Page 26 of Billionaire's Promise

Ava

He glares at me. I take in his broad shoulders, the acres of cut muscle, the corrugated abs, the concave stomach, the jeans that cling to his powerful thighs. He shifts his position and I jerk my chin up, and spot the new stitches on his forehead. I draw in a breath. "You're hurt?" I take a step toward him and he freezes.

"Are you okay?"

"Don't I look okay?" he growls.

"Uh, you look a bit beat up, to be honest."

"A bit?" Weston snorts and Baron sets his jaw.

"Why did you come?" He scowls.

"Hello to you too," I quip as I walk inside the room. Four sets of eyes follow me. "Isla told me you were hurt, so…" I toss my hair over my shoulder. What the hell am I doing here, anyway? I’d heard her say that Baron was down and something inside of me had pushed me to his side. I’d grabbed a cab—a freaking expensive ride which had cost me nearly forty pounds—gah! And made it here in record time, and the arse that he is, he’s glowering at me like he’s displeased about seeing me.

"Well, as you can see, I am fine," Baron snaps.

"And in your usual growly-pants mood," I mutter.

"Growly-pants?" He growls—no surprise there—then frowns. "What does that mean?"

"She means you’re being a bitch." Weston rises to his feet. "And in all honesty, I agree."

"You stay out of this," I say at the same time as Baron.

Weston looks between us. A speculative look comes into his eyes. My cheeks heat. I know what he's thinking. He's seen me with Ed, and now, here I am checking up on Baron. Hell, the questions I see on his face. I have the same ones for myself. Only, I don’t have the answers either.

Weston opens his mouth as if to say something, then shuts it.

"What?" Baron snaps. "Why don't you spit it out already?"

Weston scowls at Baron. "I hope you guys know what you are doing," he mutters.

"Why don't you stay out of this?" Baron glowers.

Weston bares his teeth. "Surely, you know that being part of the Seven means we are always up in each other's business?"

"Don't remind me." Baron rubs the back of the neck. "And you guys blame me for staying away for all these years?"

"You're back though, Baron," Weston's frown deepens, "which means, you need to play by the rules."

"As if any of you guys did?" Baron mutters. Weston opens his mouth and Baron raises his hand. "Stuff it," he barks. "Honestly, Wes, back the fuck up already."

"See?" I stab my finger at Baron, "See what I mean? Growly-pants. Definitely growly-pants."

He whips his head around and his gaze narrows. A vein throbs at his temple. "I don’t need you here, either," he snaps.

"Too bad, I am here already." I move further into the room and the other men rise to their feet as one.

"Uh, I think Amelie’s calling me." Weston places his glass down on the table with a thump.

"Yeah, me too. I mean, not Amelie, but Julia." Damian turns to me. "Hey, Ava. How’s it going?"

"I’m good." I smile brightly at him and another growl rumbles from the asshole still sitting.

"I didn’t see Julia on the way in," I say.

"Oh, she’s not here." Damian smiles. "She’s, uh, been a little under the weather."