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The biggest one? I recognize the smell of the room I’m in. Kato. The same warm, spicy smell from when we were kids, as though he hasn’t changed up his body wash or cologne.

It all slams back into my consciousness like a fucking wrecking ball and I sit straight up…then drop right back down when the room spins.

Those assholes. The men I have pined over for four years drugged me and dragged me back to Kato’s. Do they not realize what the fuck they’ve done? Do they not realize the dangerthey’re in, the danger they’ve put me in by bringing me back to Cedar Springs?

Throwing the blankets off, I slowly push up to sitting and swing my legs over the side. It takes far longer than I would like for my brain and body to get on the same damn page, but I eventually get my legs stable under me.

And realize I’m still naked.

Did they seriously carry me from my apartment with my ass and tits hanging out for every low life in the complex to see? The men I fell in love with as a stupid kid would have gouged out the eyes of anyone who ogled me.

But those three men in my room last night…they might have looked like my Kato, my Brixton, and my Maddox, but they are not the same. The looks in their eyes were dark and murderous.

And the way Kato had spoken to me, the way he’d manhandled me as though he hates me…

What the hell happened in those four years we were apart?

Part of me had always hoped they thought I was dead so they could move on with their lives, meet someone new, fall in love and live happily ever after.

But there was also that selfish part of me who hated to think of any other woman receiving the love and attention they’d showered on me every chance they got.

It was better if everyone thought I was dead. Better for me, and absolutely better for the only three people who I ever truly loved.

Stilllove. Though I’m not sure who the hell those three men were in my apartment last night. There was so much hate and vitriol in their eyes and my sweet gentle giant Brix had been downright terrifying as he’d first stood silently in the dark, then loomed over me as I’d cowered on the floor, his eyes boring holes straight into my head.

Crossing the room, I seek out clothes, a robe, anything to cover my body. I have to get out of here before anyone realizes I’m not only back in the state, back in town, but in the Antoniou estate. World War III will erupt right on the front lawn if that gets out.

“Fuck,” I grit through clenched teeth. There isn’t even a fucking washcloth in the ensuite bathroom. Literally nothing other than toilet paper I can use to cover myself.

Not that I won’t try to run through the front door naked. The humiliation and discomfort of the cool air will be far more palatable than the bloodshed that will follow the second my presence is declared to the public.

Throwing all caution to the wind, I make my way to the window and look out.

Second mother fucking floor. Which means climbing through the window isn’t an option. I’ll have to try my luck with the bedroom door, getting through the hallways, and out the front door before Kato or the others realize I’m on the move.

As quietly as possible, I do this shuffle jog to the door, raising one arm to cover my boobs the best I can – leaving my lower half on full display – and turn the knob, yanking the door open quickly…

Before jumping back with a yelp.

Right outside the door stands a big, broad dude who stands at least an inch or two over six feet and looks like he can bench press me without breaking a sweat.

He’s also armed and now looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“You’re to stay in your room until Mr. Antoniou, Mr. Marshall, or Mr. Winters retrieves you,” he says before nudging me back inside and pulling the door closed.

What…the…fuck?!

Since when does Kato call the shots in his father’s home? If anyone would want to speak to me, make demands of me, it would be Christos Antoniou. Maybe even Cora, though she was far quieter and meeker than my British mother.

Anger and confusion war for control as I stare at the closed door. I am not going to sit here and wait around naked for anyone to comeretrieveme. What am I, a fucking pet?

Yanking the door open again, I use both arms to cover my tits and my crotch and glare up at the guard. “There are no clothes in here,” I say.

“Don’t know what to tell you,” he says, once again closing the door.

I release a frustrated growl, slamming a palm against the sturdy wood.

Fuck it. I’ll just wrap myself in the sheets or blankets, make myself a toga out of the bedding until someone tells me what the hell is going on. And then I can tell them the kind of danger they are all in if I stay here any longer.