Page 9

Craig had several facial piercings and ear gauges, adding to his striking appearance. He was well-toned, and his pretty blue eyes almost seemed at odds with his bruiser appearance. I found myself unable to look away. He looked like a thug, not someone who would be at home cooking breakfast.

"Your oatmeal is boiling over." He spoke, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Shit!" I snatched the saucepan with my oatmeal from the burner and glared at it like it was the problem, not the man standing next to my stove.

Craig pulled a carton of eggs and various other fresh ingredients from the fridge. I poured my slightly scorched, lumpy oatmeal into a bowl and topped it with the sliced strawberries and a drizzle of honey. I didn't know what he was cooking, but delicious scents taunted me as I choked down my ruined breakfast. By the time he pulled five plates from the cabinet, I'd decided I'd had enough. Scraping my bowl into the trash, I rinsed it out before placing it in the dishwasher and headed through the house to the front door.

"Where do you think you're going?" A deep voice rumbled behind me just as I reached for the handle.

"Out." I replied without bothering to look to see who had spoken.

A tattooed hand reached around me and pushed the door closed as I tried to open it. My eyes followed a blackout tattoo up the man's arm as I turned around to face him. He was close enough that my senses were flooded by the scent of his cologne. I looked up at him, finally getting a good look at his face and physique. His curly brown hair still appeared messy from sleep.

I was able to trace the intricate designs of his tattoo work across his body, from his arms all the way up to his jaw. Only his face remained largely ink-free, making it all the more striking. I noted that he was not as heavily pierced as his friend Craig. Still, the metal in his ears, nose, and nipples added to his intimidating appearance.

"You can't keep me here. I'm not a prisoner."

"You're whatever we say you are." He replied, cocking his head slightly to one side. "Until we're sure of where the threat is coming from, Princess, nobody comes in and nobody goes out without my approval."

Outraged, I shoved against his chest, causing him to stumble back a few steps. "I don't think so, bossy pants. Youwork for my father, which means you work for me. And I have decided I'm going out."

"My name is Rich, but if calling me 'bossy pants' makes you feel like a big girl, I'll allow it. This time." He chuckled. "But you're mistaken about who's in charge here. Allow me to enlighten you, Princess." He moved toward me, closing the distance until my back was pressed against the door.

He was large and muscular, and even though he was standing still, I could tell he could move quickly if needed. I couldn't deny that he was appealing in a way I hadn't noticed before. This whole house was full of trouble.

"I'm the one in charge here, and you will do what I tell you, when I tell you."

I jumped as he planted both hands beside my head on the door and leaned down until we were at eye level. His deep brown eyes seemed to look right through me. It was as if he was daring me to say something otherwise, and I cursed myself for the way my breath caught in my throat. When did all the oxygen disappear?

"You hear me, Princess?"

"Fuck you, bossy pants." I said, but the words didn't have the bite I wanted them to.

He chuckled darkly, raising an eyebrow as his gaze dipped to my lips. "Gladly, Princess. When you've earned it. Now run along to the kitchen. If you ask nicely, I'm sure we can even get you something worth eating."

I growled lightly and pushed past him. No way in hell was I going to sit in the kitchen with them. Instead, I headed back toward the master suite as I dialed Tiffany. She answered on the third ring.

"It, like, better be life or death, bitch. I'm too hungover for you to call me this early." She groaned.

"These guys won't let me leave the house." I whined as I plopped face down on the bed.

"What?" Tiffany screeched. "Are they, like, holding you hostage or something?"

"You could say that."

"Fuck that. Give me, like, thirty and I'll be there."

"Tiff," I cautioned. "Rich said nobody can come in either."

"Like that's gonna stop me. I'm a Humphreys, for god's sake. My father practically owns, like, this whole city."

"Please don't. I just needed to vent."

"Like, shouldn't have called me so damned early then. Besides, I saw the one on the news, I gotta know if the other four are just as tasty man-candy as he is. Love you, bitch, see you in, like, a bit." She hung up before I could protest further.

A knock at my door stopped me from hitting redial.

"Victoria, it's Craig. I brought you breakfast. That oatmeal didn't look very appetizing." He sounded almost apologetic as he called to me through the door.