Page 5 of Fighting My Demons

Halfway up, it rings again, and I reject it again. Brian is far from rational, and if he is calling, it means he is out of prison again, making me wonder why he is out early and what he wants with me.

“Ex?” Addie asks, nodding to my phone.

“I wish. He would be easier to deal with. No, it’s my brother,” I tell her.

She looks confused before realizing who I am talking about. “The one that was in prison?”

I hate talking about my family, and my brother is a touchy subject, seeing as everyone believed he’d killed my father in our teens. We didn't have the best upbringing, and I struggled with not giving him what he wanted. Helping with his rage was not worth risking my life. He was irrational and reckless.

“What’s he want?” Addie asks.

“What he always wants. Money and time, possibly wanting me to bail him out again,” I tell her just as the doors open.

All three impossible men are standing there. Though I now know their names, just not sure who is who. The Viking god is Latham. His name suits him.

“Finally. Bella, can you show Latham to your shared office and find a place for these two to work? And when you are done, come see me, please,” Cyrus tells me.

I nod to him before he wanders off with Addie, leaving me with three intimidating men towering over me even though I am wearing heels.

I am furious. Just how the hell am I supposed to work with them and have them all on the same floor? They give me the creeps; working with this Latham person would be impossible. I can already tell he is a cocky, infuriating man by the smirk on his beautiful face. I stare at them, looking them over, trying to figure out where to put the other two.

"Xavier," says the blond-haired one.

He is all muscle but leaner, and who wears a tank top to a corporate business? He holds his hand out for me to shake, and I grip his fingers, giving it a little shake. I don't want to touch them. My thoughts run rampant with a desire I haven't felt in ages. His blue-green eyes are watching me. He has flames tattooed up his exposed arms and over his chest, and my god, he smells nice. The man beside him clears his throat, and I realize I am still holding Xavier’s hand. I hastily drop my hand, forcing my gaze away from him to look at the man beside him.

"Blaine," he says, offering his hand, but I fold my hands across my chest, wanting nothing more than to get away from them.

Blaine is just as intimidating.

Where did Eli and Cyrus find these men? At the gym? Did they live there?

They definitely don’t look like they belong here. I give him a once-over, trying to be discreet. His eyes are so dark they are endless pools of black with short cropped dark hair, his fringe falling in his eyes that twinkle oddly back at me.

"Bella," I tell him, tearing my gaze from him to look at the one I know as Latham.

His hair is longer, his skin darker, the color of mocha, and he reminds me of a Viking with the way his hair is braided neatly. Damn, I wish my hair was that long. I want to run my fingers through it. It sits just above his lower back. He has high cheekbones and thick eyelashes, his eyes gray like storm clouds, yet they are set hard as he glares at the other two men.

Does he not like them? I thought they all knew each other.

"Well, shall we head down?" Latham asks, motioning toward the elevator.

I nod, pulling my head from my daydreams, shaking off the strange feeling of dampness between my thighs. I push the button, and they step in and seem to take up all the space in it, forcing me to be pressed against Blaine.

I try to reach around Latham to press the button to the floor we need to go to but only manage to press into his back.

"Space, seriously. Move over and stop rubbing up against me," I snap, becoming quite overwhelmed.

Latham presses the button before turning around to face me. I want to shrink under his intense gaze. Something tells me he is dangerous. Something sinister that makes my skin prickle, and a cold shiver runs up my spine. Suddenly, I shut my mouth, finding I can’t speak while he watches me like that.

"Well, now, don't you have quite the temper?" Latham says, and I glare back at him.

He presses closer, his scent overwhelming me.

"Someone has their panties in a knot. Would you like a hand with them?" he asks, and I gulp.

His hand moves to my hip and his fingers play with the waistband of my black slacks.

"Try it, and you won't have a hand," I warn him.