“I tripped an alarm?” I ask.
Connor takes my arm and turns me back toward the house. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“She thought she could get an Uber,” Anvil murmurs. “She was going to wait on the front curb.”
Trick laughs heartily. “I love this girl.”
Connor is not laughing. He looks furious.
I’m hustled back into the mansion, and my bags are tossed into the closet. My gaze darts toward the media room. Is the girl still draped over the couch? Or did they un-restrain her and let her dress since they thought they might be under siege from intruders?
“I think this time we should get to watch you punish her,” Trick says, still smiling.
“I should let you,” Connor says.
I suck in a breath and shake my head.
“Good. Where? Is there time for me to make popcorn?” Trick jokes. “I’m hungry.”
Anvil removes his enormous coat, which could blanket a small village. There are several scars on his torso that draw my eyes. I remember hearing of various bloody battles that C Crue’s fought in various parts of the city. Are those his war wounds? I guess so.
“Anvil, you want popcorn?” Trick asks.
“Nah. I’ll be in the media room,” he says, stalking away.
“What’s up with you?” Trick calls after him. “You planning to take Holy Orders or what?”
Anvil ignores the question and disappears back into the room.
“There’s very beautiful company in the house, and he’s watchingReservoir Dogsfor like the third time this year. What the hell?”
“I don’t know,” C says, not even looking in Anvil’s direction.
“Maybe you should have him checked out,” Trick says. “Let me know if you want me to do a search for a nearby urologist. Or a shrink.”
Connor doesn’t answer.
I try to pull back when we reach the main staircase.
C’s eyes narrow. “Zoe, you’ve tried my patience enough tonight.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“Nothing at the moment. You and I will sort this out in the morning.”
I glance at Trick and then back at Connor.
“Morning’s fine with me,” Trick says.
“You’re not invited,” I say.
He puts a hand over his heart. “I’m wounded, Z. I’d invite you to any party. I’m sorry you don’t feel the same.” He winks at me, and I can’t tell if it’s a lighthearted wink or not.
“Is he angry?” I ask as I ascend the stairs, knowing there’s no way of escaping at the moment.
“No,” C says, taking me back into the bedroom. “Do I need to handcuff you to me? Or are you smart enough to know there’s no point trying to get out in the middle of the night?”
“I won’t try to leave again tonight.”
