Page 2 of Amour Fou (Deepest Desires #2)

M y wrist is snatched back before I even get a chance to take hold of the door handle to the back office. Zeke presses his hand to my shoulder and moves me back.

“Now’s not the time, ‘akh .”

“You’re mistaken, Habibi. I think it’s the perfect time.” I grin broadly, knowing full well that my brother—from a completely different set of parents—is in fact right.

“This is a bad idea.”

“Nah, it’s funny.” I shrug, angling my head towards him sweetly. “Come on, join me won’t you.”

Zeke sighs, removing his hand from my wrist. “Jesus Christ.”

Gripping the handle, I turn it, barging into the room. Zeke bundling in after me, the both of us freezing on the spot and tumbling forward slightly at the scene in front of us. Deckard has Cairo up on the desk, face pressed to the wooden tabletop, and ass raised high up in the air.

“Shit!” Deckard leans over her, shielding as much of her body from us as possible. Zeke instantly turns around, giving both of them his back.

Such a gentleman.

I—on the other hand—nod, impressed with their sexual display and cross my arms. “Y’know, I could give you a few pointers for—”

“Xaden, I swear to all that is fucking holy!” Deckard growls. “I told you to stay the fuck out of— ”

“I told you,” Zeke snorts behind me.

“Can the both of you stop fucking standing there and GET OUT!”

Yep, Deckard really is pissed, and if the crimson colour on his face is anything to go by, I’m about to have something thrown at me. It’s Cairo’s words I don’t expect.

“Deck, it’s fine. He obviously thinks he has something better to offer me than you do.” She makes eye contact with me, manoeuvring her hand from underneath her body, and reaches to me. “Come on then, show me what you got.”

“What the fuck!?” Deckard looks down, hand still entwined tightly in her black hair.

“No, come on, baby. Let’s see what he’s got.”

“Uh, what?” My eyes dart between the both of them. “I… Wait a second, I—”

Cairo bursts out laughing. “Get the fuck out of here, Xaden! Don’t barge in and offer if you’re too chicken-shit to follow through.” I dodge out the way, just in time for the plastic tissue box to fly past my head.

“Ok, now that’s just rude. I was going to give you some tips on how you can—”

“OUT, FUCKER!” Deckard bellows, humour at the end of the word. Hands grip my shoulders and before I know it, I’m being dragged out by Zeke. “Get some fucking work done while you’re at it, instead of interrupting—” He doesn’t get to finish before Zeke slams the door shut behind him.

“What did I say?” He steps forward. “Leave them to their shit. You fuck this gig up for us, ‘akh, and I’ll slaughter you myself.”

“Come on, don’t be mad at me.” I inch closer to him, pursing my lips together in a kissing motion. “You just need to get laid, and I promise—”

“ Yakhsaf Allah bih al’ard,” he grumbles, shoulder checking me on the way past, and in true Zeke fashion, he uses his hands and arms to accentuate the insult. Except that does nothing but make me laugh harder. Zeke has always been so poetic in his insults.

Asking Allah to swallow the earth beneath me is one of his favourites.

“ Habibi, wait!” I laugh, chasing him down the corridor.

Cairo joined the team almost one year ago, and since she’s been here, things have only expanded.

I’d be lying if I said things haven’t changed for the better.

Her hacking skills are better than her counterparts, and she has managed to free up Deckard’s time a lot more, which has led to more openings and spaces being secured for future events.

Which in turn means more donations, more private sponsorships, and much more money. I follow Zeke into the main hallway of the mansion and help the staff make sure everything is checked and correctly set up.

Zeke and I spent five years in the military as part of Delta Force, and our unit was always high on the list for being the most competent at getting shit done. I followed him into battle every single time, and even now, nothing has changed.

Our blood together runs thicker than that of our own families.

We were hired as part of Idée Fixe two years ago and are the eyes and ears of every single operation necessary to make sure each night runs as smooth as possible.

Our knowledge is key to keeping everyone who enters Idée Fixe safe, and even with Deckard’s extensive knowledge from tour, he has other stuff to focus on. That’s why we’re here.

While Zeke makes his way over to a group of workers standing by the electrical office, I decide to give him a break from my antics and help the rest of the crew clean out the foyer. We have three weeks left until the next event, and it needs to be perfect.

“Okay. What needs to be kept?” I ask the blonde girl standing with her back to me. Turning around, her gaze meets my chest and slowly raises, her jaw slack.

Their reactions are always the same.

Standing at six-foot-five, Zeke at six-seven, both of us covered in more tattoos than skin, it’s hard for either of us to be missed in a crowd.

Which in turn, makes it harder for us to hunt on the very rare nights we take Caretaker roles.

It isn’t all that often, usually only when someone calls in sick or quits .

“I…uh.” She clears her throat, her facial expressions moulding from fear to excitement to panic. The grin I’m trying to hold back finally cracks, crawling upwards from one side of my mouth to the other, and I step forward.

“You what… blondie. Tell me.”

“T-the box with—” She points to the right, not taking her eyes off me as I step closer, her chest nearly pressed to my stomach.

This one’s tiny.

“The box with what?” I twirl a piece of her hair in my fingers but the sound of boxes flying steals my attention. Nix stumbles through the archway of the mansion Deckard secured last month, tripping over the cardboard boxes.

“ Merde !”

Someone’s pissed.

The pretty little blonde takes that as her moment of freedom, and leaves.

“Since when do we leave shit lying about, ce n’est pas une porcherie !!”

Three young guys scramble to where he stands, removing the boxes from his feet—clearly petrified of losing their jobs. That’s one thing about Idée Fixe; we pay extremely well considering our parties are very few and far between.

People from around the world come to join Deepest Desires, all for a taste of the action, and their reward… total exclusivity. I don’t miss the welt on his righteye when I walk towards him

“The fuck happened to you, biker boy?” I circle my finger around my own eye, frowning slightly. “You catch a right hook?” Huffing, he sits in one of the booths, pressing a bag of ice to his eye.

“Turns out Shannel wasn’t as single as she said she was. Her husband came home a little earlier than expected, and well,”—he pulls the ice pack away, squinting—“you should see the other guy.”

“I bet.” I lean in, getting a closer look at it, before bumping my fist with his.

“How long until the electricals are set up and ready for a test run?” Nix asks, leaning forward and resting his forearms onto the table. We’re three weeks away from the next party, and so far, everything’s coming together perfectly. Having more staffing has been a godsend.

Pulling the sleeve of my black hoody back, I check my watch. “Give us a couple hours and we should have the sound system and strobe lighting complete. Zeke just needs to look through the electrical system in the basement and we can—”

Words fail me when the most beautiful thing on two legs walks through the door in grey, relaxed fit sweats that rest low on her hips, and a crop hoodie to match. Her bright red hair is tossed up on top of her head with a few thin strands framing her face.

The body on this woman is astonishing. The tiniest waist I’ve ever seen with an ass and tits that rival the Greek goddesses of history. My body won’t even move from the spot.

“You’re drooling, brother,” Nix scoffs from next to me, and all I can do is flip him off. I don’t even look at him.

I can’t.

“Can I help you?” Zeke’s deep voice comes from behind me, bringing me back to reality.

“Uh, yeah.” She readjusts her duffel bag, reaching her hand out to him. “I’m Alyssa.”

Zeke shakes her hand, the professional as always. “Zeke.” He nods once.

Usually when women come face to face with the big guy, they cower slightly. Not this one, I think she actually squares her shoulders more.

“I’m here to meet up with—”

“I’m Xaden.” I reach out towards her.

“Hi.” She smiles, her plump lips framing perfect teeth.

Nice firm handshake. Wonder what that will feel like wrapped around my cock.

I pull her closer to me. “Party doesn’t start for a few days but if you’re that eager, I can sort you out now… and later. ”

Snatching her hand from my grasp, she steps back from me, grimacing. “Yeah, hard pass. Thanks though.” Her eyes flick, looking me up and down.

“Leave her alone, Xaden.” Cairo shoves me out the way, a wide smile on her face. “Hey!” she squeals, opening her arms to Alyssa and embracing her in a tight hug. “How was the drive?”

“Oh, piece of cake.” She smiles flatly, waving her hand between them.

“Really?” Cairo squints.

Alyssa lets out a heavy sigh. “It was awful; I should’ve taken you up on that offer to fly here. It would’ve been much easier… and quicker.” She giggles and the sound sends shivers over my arms.

Her voice would sound beautiful with my name on the end of a moan. I must make some form of sound because Cairo turns back to me with a frustrated look on her face.

“Heel, boy.” She shakes her head like a disappointed mother. Taking hold of Alyssa’s hand, she leads her past me.

“Is he always like that?” She throws her thumb over her shoulder.

“Pay no mind to him, he’s an animal.”

“Maybe she just needs to relax a little.” Tilting my head in Zeke’s direction, I elbow him, still keeping my eyes on the sway of Alyssa’s hips as she walks away from me. “Or she just needs a good dick to suck.” I chuckle.

Alyssa stops, turning on her heel to face me. Slowly raising her eyebrow, she smirks back at me. “Prefiero cortarme la garganta antes que arrodillarme ante ti, perra.”

Ok, I’m completely aroused at her shouting at me in another language.

“I don’t speak French.” I shrug.

“It’s Spanish, you moron,” Nix snorts.

“Ah.” I nod once, still facing her. I speak in Zeke’s native language. “ Ya amar ‘iinaha majnuneh.”

“Uskut!” Zeke scolds me, clicking his fingers beside him as though I’m a dog. That’s a first. Usually, he’s more than happy to engage in this kind of banter with a woman.

“Y’know… ‘ana ‘afhamuk!” She winks. “Yixrib beitak, wa-beitilli xallafuuk.” Looking me up and down with a disgusted expression.

Cairo bursts out laughing beside her, clutching her stomach with one hand, the other encasing Alyssa’s wrist gently.

“That’s what you get, Xaden!” She laughs harder, pulling Alyssa with her. “For being such a flash piece of shit.” Throwing her head back, she cackles even louder. Alyssa walking in time with her.

“What did she just say?” Nix asks, stepping beside us.

“She just asked God to destroy his house and the house of the people who gave birth to him,” Zeke replies.

“That’s harsh,” Nix scoffs.

Zeke turns to face him, while simultaneously standing in front of me. “Most of our insults are, we go straight for the jugular.”

“Brother, I think I’m in love.”

Zeke groans beside me, smacking me on the side of the head.

“What the fuck, man?” I exclaim, rubbing it gently.

“Do you really have to bother the staff.” Zeke looks down on me, pointing behind him, and I can tell he’s majorly pissed, but there’s also something else there that I can’t quite place. “We’re already short as it is, and I’m sick of having my ass chewed out because I can’t keep you in line!”

Holding my hands up in surrender, I grin. “Alright, I’m sorry.”

Screwing his face up, he shakes his head. “No, you’re not.”

“She’s sexy as fuck though, right?” I smile so broadly my face begins to ache, and I watch the muscles ripple through Zeke’s jaw as he fights the smile.

“Get some fucking work done.” He chuckles, taking a few steps back from me, before eventually turning around.

“You know I’m right!” I call to him .

“Do you ever stop talking?” Nix questions, and considering he’s a man of many words himself, the audacity of the question isn’t lost on me.

“No.” I shove my hands in my trouser pockets, turning my head to face him. “But maybe if you stopped talking to women for a bit, you wouldn’t end up looking like you went two rounds with Mike Tyson.” I grimace, lifting my finger to poke the bruise before he inevitably smacks my hand away.