“You didn’t,” I mutter quickly, not wanting to get into it with him. What happened last night and this morning was so out of my realm of normal I can’t even process what it all was, and the last thingI want is for Asher to know about any of it, especially while I have to work with him.
Cruz winks at me, his eyes filled with mischief. “Don’t lie, little darlin’. You know the chemistry is so damn thick you won’t be able to resist me for much longer.”
I stare back at him, deadpan. What the hell is he trying to do? “It is not,” I say through clenched teeth, not sure why I need to deny it so much, but I don’t like what he is insinuating. Asher looks me over, and I know he can see my cheeks heating because they feel like they’re on fire. I can’t stop them, even though I wish I could. It’s more from embarrassment of sitting at dinner with the two of them than being all flustered by Cruz, but he seems to have a disarming effect on me I don’t understand. And so does Asher.
Asher’s grin turns playful, almost challenging. He enjoys making me squirm; I knew it today when he made me dance for him. “Did Daisy tell you she’s going to be working under me at the club?”
Under him? Oh, my God. What the hell does he even mean by that? I don’t look at either of them. I can’t, because I can feel the tension in the room hit a new all-time high.
“I will believe it when I see it.” Cruz snickers, but I can hear his disapproval.
Asher whistles. “The girl can move. I have every confidence she will be one of my most profitable dancers before the end of next week.”
“I say she won’t last the week,” Cruz sneers back at him, a cruel edge to his tone that gets under my skin.
“Asshole!” I snap. But their eyes are fixed on each other in a standoff that looks like it’s about to get physical.
“You want to place money on it?” Asher cuts back, looking like he’s about to fly across the table and thump Cruz.
Cruz looks just as on edge, but he’s more unpredictable, and I know I need to put an end to whatever this is as soon as possible.
I shove my chair back. “Can you not?” I place my hands on my hips, disgusted that they are talking about me like I’m not here, and that they are willing to place a bet on the likelihood of my succeeding at my new job. It’s so insulting.
Asher smiles at me. “Sorry, Daisy, I just believe in you. That was some lap dance you gave me today. I have been sporting a semi ever since.” He adjusts himself, and I’m sure it’s more for Cruz’s benefit than mine. Oh, God, have I just stepped in on some sibling rivalry?
I blink back at him, unable to believe he just said those words out loud. Knowing I can’t stay here, I collect my plate and soda. “You two are pigs. I would prefer to eat alone,” I snap, bitchy as all hell, before storming from the room, slamming my bedroom door behind me. I lean into the door, sucking in deep measured breaths. Daisy, what on earth have you gotten yourself into?
The TV springs back to life and the fight blaring through the apartment, the volume twice what it was before. I’m sure out of spite.
Just great.
I slump down on the bed, sipping my soda. Grabbing for my headphones, I place them over my ears and pump my music mix up to high so I can block them and their annoyingness out. I have never had roommates before; I lived in a mansion with Valentine, but he didn’t really communicate with me unless it was to tell me how I needed to behave for some social event we had on, or when I was extra lucky and he needed someone to take his bad mood out on. We slept in the same bed, but it was so large there was no need to touch each other. The only time he would even bother was when he needed what he called his sexual appetite filled. All about him, and lucky for me, he was quick to finish, so I would tune out and pretend it wasn’t happening,so repulsed by the man I was forced to marry I never really took part in the ritual. It’s why I was happy it didn’t take him long after we got married until he was fulfilling his needs with women from his club. It took the pressure off me.
But roommates, brutal biker brother roommates — this is going to be interesting. The real bet should be whether I will last the week here living in this apartment with Cruz and Jagger, because right now, I’m not so sure I will. Might not last the night once Jagger works out I’m here.
An hour later, I’m lying on my belly scrolling through my phone with my music still blaring in my ears. I tried to take them off a little while ago, but whatever fighting marathon they are watching is still on. I’m dog tired but too on edge to actually settle into bed and sleep, so instead, I scroll through social media, doing my research on the brothers. The reason Cruz was so passionate about watching the fight tonight becomes obvious; it seems he’s into the whole scene, with images on his Instagram of him prepping for fights, his fists bound in bandages before the fights, and even gory images of his injuries after. An insight into him I didn’t need to see. I could tell from the moment I met him he was a little crazy, but his Instagram page makes him look completely psycho. And I have to assume that’s the side of him he wants the world to see, because otherwise, why put it all out there like that.
Asher’s page is tamer, with images of him drinking with friends, mostly women, and from what it looks like, mostly at the club. He comes across as a party boy, always up for a good time. And from the warning I heard Sloane give him to stay away from me, maybe a bit of a player as well. But his energy is fun.
Jagger’s page is more aesthetic, with hardly any images of him at all. It’s all about his bar, The Precinct, and actually looks like it’s runby some PR person and not him at all. It’s not personal and gives me absolutely no insight into who he really is. From what I saw last night, he’s a scary motherfucker with no heart, who you don’t want to be on the wrong side of. That’s who, and why would you want the world to see that side of you?
Someone removes my earphones, and the noise from the fight immediately hits my ears. I sit up in a rush and turn my phone over so they can’t see what I was looking at. But I feel the color drain from my face when my eyes lock onto his dark and dangerous ones. It’s not Cruz like I expected, in my room just to annoy me, but Jagger, and he’s furious.
“What are you doing here?” I squeak.
“I think the more appropriate question would be why are you here?” He glares at me, and it’s stone cold, making a chill come over my skin.
“I… Sloane… I—”
“Spit it out. You should be back in Italy with your family.” His eyes narrow. “Why didn’t you get on that plane this morning?”
I raise my chin, trying to act braver than I feel. “I told you I didn’t want to go home.”
“So, what you snuck out of the airport after we left?”
My shoulder lifts. “I wasn’t going back there.”
He grabs me by the wrist and hauls me to my feet. “You should have kept running, little girl. Coming back here was a bad idea.”
