“I can’t be bothered to go anywhere today. I can’t remember the last time I had a full day at home.”
“He just wants to stay and be around his little lady friend,” Alfie teases, and I pinch my nose, stifling another giggle.
“Urgh, don’t start.”
It’s weird to listen to them like this. Caden sounds different. Like the hard, unbudging tone is one he puts on for me. Right now, he seems calm, like he’s having a normal conversation with normal people. There’s no strain, no coldness. It’s strange. It’s hard to picture that man as anything other than evil and murderous and horrible.
I don’t hear the pitter-patter of paws until they stop right in front of me.
My head lowers in slow motion, and then my eyes grow wide.
Well, good morning, Bob.
He stands at my feet, looking up at me, then lets out a small bark that has me yelping and my soul nearly exiting my body.
Snitch.
Fiz’s head pops round the doorway and then a smirk appears on his lips as he catches sight of me. “Well, well, well.” He comes into full view, leaning on the doorframe, hands sliding into his pockets. “Looks like we’ve got a little spy under our roof.”
He’s got on a baggy grey tracksuit this morning, a white gold chain rimming his neck. His black curls all dishevelled, darkbrown eyes heavy with sleep, with a devilish glimmer in them. Lax but curious, tired but menacing.
I cross my arms and scowl.
“You care to join us for breakfast?” He cocks a brow at me, reaching to pat his dog on the head. The dog who is still glaring at me and probably contemplating which limb of mine he wants to eat first.
“No,” I say, wondering what I’m actually searching for, then the bitter, roasty aroma wafts through the door. I almost shiver. “I’m just after some coffee. If you demons run on caffeine.”
He chuckles. “I run on the blood of my enemies and the sweet juices of pussy.” His eyes make an unsubtle drag down my body, giving me the sense of being naked. His tongue even pokes out and wets his lower lip. My knees wobble a bit. “But, sure, we have coffee too.”
He stands there, leaning on the doorframe and just… stares at me, with a wicked smirk on that smooth face.
I square my shoulders. “Wonderful. Where can I get some?”
He purses his lips, stifling a grin, making me wonder what’s going through that head of his to make him look so scheming. He pushes off the doorframe and hooks his finger inside Bob’s collar and tugs. “Come on, boy, she wouldn’t fill you up anyway.” He makes another dramatic scan of my body. “Too bony.”
I chuck my middle finger up at him, which he laughs at, then pulls his dog back into the kitchen.
Gingerly, I step to the door and over the threshold.
Caden’s standing on the opposite side of the huge island, arms crossed and brows flattened into an unimpressed line. Tightly pressed lips and a clenched jaw. He’s got on a white vest, tight pecs and pebbled nipples poking out the fabric. Black jogging bottoms hang loose on his hips, revealing the elastic band of his boxers. A massive black Cane Corso – whom Iglimpsed last night and nearly made me pass away entirely – by his side. He doesn’t bother coming to inspect me again.
It’s too uncomfortable to look Caden in the eye, remembering what he did to me and how my body reacted. So, I avert them down. I examine his tattoos closer this morning. I saw them last night, but I was too preoccupied with the anticipation of him doing something horrid that I didn’t really absorb them. Now I see them clearly. Those squares on his right arm look like a deck of tarot cards falling from his shoulder. Each one with a unique weapon, all stamped on the same tarot: Death.
I don’t make it subtle as I stare at each card trailing along his arm. One card has an axe on it, several of them have different guns, one has a hammer. Another one is a screwdriver, and the last one I spot is a rope in the shape of a noose.
I gulp uncomfortably and look back up at him. He’s scowling at me. He drops his arms and circles them behind his back.
The foreboding images now hidden, I tear my gaze away from his.
Alfie’s by the coffee machine. He looks up to beam at me and then pulls a mug from the side. “Good morning, princess.”
His soft, deep voice unwinds my rigid body. I take him in. He’s shirtless, baring all those huge, masterfully honed muscles. The man has muscles I didn’t even know we had in our torso. His upper body is covered in tattoos, cutting off at the base of his neck. A massive array of art. He’s got grey joggers hiding his bottom half. I’m hit with a sudden desire to see him naked. Is he tatted everywhere else?
Swallowing that before it makes me sweat, I say, “Good morning, Alfie.”
Caden rolls his eyes. “I’ll be in the garage. Don’t disturb me.” With that, he turns on his heel and stalks off, his enormous bulk of a dog following.
So, I guess apologies for sexual assault aren’t a thing around here.
