I sip at it, watching as he drinks down one of his own. When my head spins, I take hold of the countertop. This time I don’t think the spinning is from my injury. “What happened when you went looking for that man, Silas?” I ask, since he hasn’t said a word about it since he got back.
“Cruz and Jagger are dealing with him now.”
About as much as I expected him to tell me. Nothing, really. “Your knuckles are all busted up.”
He tucks his hand into his pocket like it can hide the damage. “He had it coming.”
I nibble my bottom lip. “Because of what he wanted to do to me?”
His shoulders tense as he places his glass in the sink and walks back toward me, playing with my hair before he tucks it behind my ear. “Because of what he would have done to you, princess. That fucker will pay for ever even considering hurting you.”
My head spins, and I take hold of him so I don’t go over. I’m trashed and I know it. I drank way too much champagne trying to block out all the shit thumping through my head and all their overbearing bullshit.
“Are you a little tipsy? How much did you drink while I was gone?”
I look him dead in the eyes. “I’m tired, I’m going to bed,” I mutter, pulling out of his grip and heading down the hallway, using the wall for support as I go. I haven’t drunk that much since the night I partied too hard with Sloane in Italy. The night Valentine threatened to break both my legs if he ever found me dancing again. “Fuck you, motherfucker.” I do a spin just to prove I can dance whenever the fuck I want to. Asher catches me. I didn’t even realize he was right there.
“You swearing at me, princess?” he asks, confused.
“Fucking Valentine,” I mutter under my breath.
“You’re talking to ghosts, you really are drunk.” He laughs. “Lucky Jagger’s not here, we would both be in shit for letting you get into such a state.”
“Yeah, it is lucky for him,” I grumble as Ash holds me up, helping me into his room with him.
“I can dance if I want to,” I tell him.
“I know you can,” he agrees with a confident smile. “I can’t wait to watch you dance up on stage again. I have seen a lot of dancers in my time working at the club, but no one knows how to move the way you do. It’s hypnotic.”
Damn, this man is smooth. No one has ever said my dancing was hypnotic before. “I’m glad that’s clear,” I sass back, not really sure where I’m going with this but knowing I need to keep some sort of distance between us. Emotional, physical, literal inches. I get too close to him and I know I’m a goner. It’s the effect he’s had on me since he walked toward me ready to give me my interview. And right now, my head is a whirlwind of stuff just flying about up there. I’m so mentally exhausted I can hardly drag my body to bed, let alone deal with the reality that the men I love are all lying to me. Fresh pain surges in my chest at the thought. Clearly I didn’t drink enough to stop it.
I head for my room, but just before I open the door, his hand laces with mine and he pulls me back to him. “Stay with me tonight.”
My eyes run down and over his black button-up and his suit pants. He’s one fine specimen. That’s why I know this is a bad idea. “Better not,” I mutter then shove open my door and go to pull away.
He scoops me up, cradling me in his arms. “You’re in no condition to sleep alone.”
I stare up at him. “I’m in no condition to sleep with you,” I say mostly for myself.
“Why don’t we let the sober one be the judge of that.” He strides through his open door and tosses me down on his bed. He stares down at me, his hair hanging over his eyes. “Tell you what, lie with me for a bit, and when you can walk in a straight line again, I’ll let you sneak back to your room. Boys won’t be home for hours, Jagger won’t know.” He winks at me, all cheeky. “We can just hold hands.”
I want to burst out laughing, but something in his silly comment has me choking up. Why can’t I go back to our first night sleeping side by side, when I had no idea how much this man and his brothers could hurt me? It feels like a lifetime ago.
“I’ll get your pajamas.” Satisfied I’m not fighting him on it, he turns away from me and moves back into the hallway.
I slouch back and stare up at the ceiling. I should jump up and run while he’s not looking, but even in my inebriated state I know I stand no chance against their state-of-the-art security system and the guards now patrolling the yard and the only way out of this place. They’re smart, I’ll give them that, working out exactly how to trap me.
Asher returns with my silk pajamas, tossing them to me. My heavy body fights against me, but I still manage to sit up.
Unbuttoning his shirt, he watches me, his chiseled chest peeping through the gap he’s making as each button is released. I get the sudden urge to run my tongue over it, run it all the way down to his… Oh damn, now I’m staring at his package.
He catches me and chuckles darkly. “Here I am trying to be a good boy and get you safely into bed and you go looking at me like that.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Like what?” I whisper. His belt hitting the floor registers in my ears, but I can’t stop staring at him.
“Like you want me to fuck your brains out.”
“That would be a bad idea.”
