“Appreciate your help,” I throw over my shoulder before following Miles towards the bank of elevators.
“Are you armed?” Miles asks, placing a card over a reader and waiting for the light to turn green before lifting it.
“No.” I’m lying, and we both know it. I’m not stupid enough to come here without protection, however.
The doors slide open with ading. “Get in and put your hands on the wall.”
“Going to check?” I ask mildly, doing as he asks. I’m too far into the building now. Even if Miles threw me into the small space, no one would do a thing to help me.
He doesn’t push a floor, but he does at least wait until the doors are closed, and we’re trapped in there, before he puts his hands on me. Arms first, then my shoulders, his touch abrupt and professional. The first thing he finds is my concealed weapon, snug on the inside of my pants.
Looking over my shoulder, our eyes meet. No expression on his face. Without hesitation, and without looking away, he pulls the gun out. He releases the magazine and empties the chamber before putting it back with a distinct click. He pockets both and continues his search, sliding his palms between my legs, palm skimming my dick. He moves down my inner things, around to my ass, and then crouches so he can reach my ankles. His fingers sneak under the hem of my pant leg, tracing around the blade strapped to my ankle. He unhooks it and brings it with him as he stands. It goes into his pocket as well. Is he going to add it to what I’m sure is an already-extensive collection?
“Anything else?” he asks, gaze boring into me.
“Not anywhere you want to go,” I say sarcastically. Not even a twitch. Tough crowd.
Miles presses the top floor and then sets himself up in front of the doors, blocking me—and anyone from getting into the elevator without his permission. He spreads his legs, locking fingers around his wrists. An illusion of relaxed, but I know he’s anything but. A lethal weapon.
“You knew I was coming.”
“We knew you were here the moment you stepped into the building,” he says quietly.
A nonanswer, though I’m surprised he answered at all. “He could have just sent me a note.”
Miles tenses imperceptibly and even glances back at me, a look of concentration on his face. Doesn’t acknowledge the statement otherwise, of course.
I shove a hand into my pocket to suppress my urge to tap my fingers against my thigh. Seeing Xavier shouldn’t make me nervous. Not anymore. Not now. Admitting that he does means admitting he still matters.
My gut clenches as the doors slide open, and Miles steps out, half turning towards me. “This way.”
Into the belly of the beast.
Xavier
Theknockatthedoor is a welcome interruption. Holding a finger up to stop the man on the screen from speaking, I call out, “Enter.” I don’t care if he’s the head of a multi-million-dollar company that we’re in negotiations with. Miles would never interrupt unless it was important. And my secretary has been trained far too well, and they know if they’re the one knocking, they’re already fired.
Miles enters, closing the door behind himself and standing in front of it. Legs apart, fingers wrapped around the opposite wrist, resting them against his front. The perfect soldier. The perfectweapon. My weapon. If I asked him to open the window and jump out, he would do it. I’ve never met anyone as exquisitely obedient as him. Unwavering loyalty. Love.
“Hunter just entered the building,” Miles says quietly. I’ve never heard him raise his voice, not in all the years I’ve known him. He doesn’t need to; he gets his point across just fine with his actions.
Did he now? It’s been a long time since he’s come to me of his own volition. Years, in fact. “Retrieve him for me.”
Miles inclines his head and disappears.
“Something important has come up. My secretary will reschedule with you.” I don’t wait for an answer, immediately removing myself from the meeting. They may be powerful, but I hold more power than they could ever hope for. If they don’t come crawling back on their own, I’ll make sure they do.
It takes only a few seconds to get into the live footage of the elevator that reaches this floor. Watching Miles frisk Hunter is more than entertaining. He’s very thorough, with cold efficiency I appreciate. I know when I send him to do a job, it gets done. There isn’t another person in the world I would put that absolute trust in.
Not even my husband. Hunter has too much animosity, and he’s unpredictable. A dangerous firearm without a safety. He hates me just as much as he loves me, and it’s delicious. I’ve learned to embrace it because once upon a time I had no other choice.
Leaning back in my chair, I lace my fingers together and wait. Miles turns his head at something that Hunter says, and I regret not turning the sound on. What did he say that gave him that look? What is he doing here? I highly doubt it’s because he wants me to bend him over this desk. Though I wouldn’t be opposed to that. I’ll never say no to Hunter, not in anything.
The second he enters the room, my pants get tight, my entire body sitting up and taking notice. He looks good. Better than good. I can smell him from here, that sweet cologne he likes. A creature of habit. I want to run my hands through his perfectly styled brown hair and wrinkle his suit. Muss him up more than a little bit.
Without exchanging pleasantries, Hunter sweeps across the floor and drops a small box on my desk. “This is yours.”
I glance over to where Miles has closed the door and is standing in front of it. Stopping Hunter from leaving without permission and preventing anyone from entering. Guarding.
