Page 21
Story: Climbing Everest
“I’m tired of thinking of you asthe guard.”
“You shouldn’t be thinking of me at all unless you’re trying to get me killed,” he says softly enough that the guys won’t hear him downstairs.
“For fuck’s sake. Name?”
He huffs out a breath, looks at me over his shoulder and says “Karolos,” before turning back around and taking his post directly in front of my door.
“So does your presence in front of my room mean I’m only allowed to leave with one of them?” I ask, jerking my chin toward the hallway even though he’s not looking at me.
“It means if one of them isn’t by your side, another guard or I will be. At all times.”
“Great,” I mutter.
There are still so many packages left to be unpacked. I’ve barely made a dent since waking up, considering my body still feels as though I’m moving through sludge.
But if Kato wants all this shit packed away, so be it. Not like I’m not used to physical labor. I’m just not used to doing it in such a long fucking dress. Or clothes in general.
All I can do is shake my head as I unload the bags, slipping dresses and blouses and shirts onto hangers before carrying them into the walk-in closet that might be bigger than my apartment in Georgia.
There’s even an island in the middle with drawers. I assume that’s where my undergarments and accessories will go.
Wow. I guess it’s going to take me some time to get used to this lifestyle again. Not that my childhood bedroom had been anything this big, but it was more common than not to wear designer clothes and carry designer bags. Got to keep up the image for the Family, after all.
Once the bags are empty and set near the door, I start on the boxes. Makeup, toiletries, shoes, and more accessories than any one person needs.
Well, at least I can finally take a shower tonight, and a majority of the clothes Kato ordered will cover my body, though the dresses are either similar to the one I wear now, or the hems are cut so short they’ll barely cover my ass.
I’ve barely got my arms loaded with the shower gels and face wash when Madd appears at my door.
“You keep taking off the heels,” he says. The playful and wicked smile is gone. Now he’s frowning at me. “Do I need to strap them in place?”
Before I drop everything and cause a mess, I turn my back on him and set everything on the double vanity before crossing the room and sliding my feet back into those stupid torture devices.
I’m not exactly opposed to heels, especially since I wore the platform kind every shift at the club, but I’d rather be comfortable while doing mundane tasks around the house.
“Better?” I ask with a sardonic smile.
Madd crowds my space, his spicy, leather scent wrapping around me and warming me as though not a minute has passed between us. My sweet, playful Maddox. Each of them had such different personalities but were always so gentle and kind with me.
This person in front of me looks mildly unhinged, especially when he raises a hand and wraps it around my throat, though not hard enough to cut off my air supply.
He drags me closer, bends forward and presses a hard kiss to my lips, his tongue shoving inside and tasting me.
Fuck…he’s an even better kisser now than when we were kids. A sickening green fog slithers through my belly as I wonder how many women he’s kissed through the years to get so fucking good at this. It feels as though my ovaries are seconds from imploding while my toes curl inside the narrow heels.
When he pulls away, I fight the embarrassment as I sway toward him, like my body is chasing him, my mouth chasing his for more.
“The wedding lady is here.”
He wraps his fingers through mine and guides me from the room as though we’re a loving couple.
Except there is no love in his eyes when he looks at me, not anymore. There’s hunger and lust, but there’s also something darker, something I can’t quite decipher.
I’m starting to wonder whether I’m strong enough to push the dresser in front of the door tonight to keep all three of them out of my room and out of my bed.
Chapter 7
Maddox
Table of Contents
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