Page 13 of Bound by Them (Rose and Dagger #1)

Edmund

I can only stare at little Danica, at the stubborn twist of her lips, the angry narrowing of her eyes…and the vulnerability in the way her shoulders hunch forward.

Stop feeling things, Edmund. You feel too goddamn much .

I want to take her home with me. But Jon is waiting in the car. I can’t bring Danica with us—I don’t need him reporting this to my father.

I give her a lazy grin. “My little girl wants to be punished? We can do it right here.”

This time, when I move to pin her against the counter, she doesn’t try to escape. She wants this. She’s a brat and she needs someone to keep her in line.

I could be that someone. As long as I don’t feel too much. “You trust me?”

She nods. “I shouldn’t. You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah. I am.” I should apologize, but I’m still furious about that tattoo I found. The ink was fresh. Why would she go out and do such a thing?

I keep her pinned with my feet on either side of hers. I send my hand up beneath her shirt and cup one of her breasts. Her skin is as soft as the satin of her bra. I run my fingertips over her, finding her hardened nipple. With my eyes on hers, I gently pinch the nipple through her bra.

She gasps quietly and sends a frantic look to the hallway behind me.

I lean forward and bite the edge of her ear. “Troy will warn me if anyone’s coming. You good?”

“I’m—I’m good.”

I continue manipulating her nipple, rolling it around, getting her worked up. With my other hand, I pop open the front of her jeans and find her wet, wanting pussy.

“Edmund,” she breathes.

“Remember, I’m punishing you. This won’t end well.”

“What? No, no punishments.”

I grin as I slide a finger into her, crooking it forward to rub against her G-spot. I pinch harder and harder at her nipple.

“Edmund—yes—ow, but yes—” She grabs my forearm. Her eyes squeeze shut. “Please, right there.”

A few more strokes, until I have her panting, shaking, and ready to burst.

“And…I think that’s enough.” I yank my hand from her pants and pop my fingers into my mouth, tasting her. So fucking sweet. “Enjoy your visit with your granddad.”

She stares at me in shock, looking dazed. “You…what? Enough?”

“I told you I was going to punish you.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Troy’s voice, loud in the hall, is getting closer. “They’re probably cleaning up. I’ll go check on them, sir.”

I raise my eyebrows at Danica. “That’s my cue to leave.”

“Ugh!” She shoves at my shoulder before doing up the buttons on her jeans. “Never speak to me again.”

“Princess.” I shake my head. “If I could stay away from you, I fucking would.”

* * *

Danica

The day after we saw each other at my granddad’s house, Edmund sends flowers. I set the vase on the curb outside my house with a note that says “free.”

The next day, a box of luxury chocolates. I leave them on the counter for my roommates. Wallace eats so many, he makes himself sick.

More gifts arrive each day. Several bouquets, a bracelet with dangling sapphire charms, a case of beautiful, brightly colored macarons. I give away every single one.

After over a week of gifts, my roommates and I are getting ready to go to the movies.

I think this is Elias’s idea because I’ve been so grouchy.

I overheard him telling Rita and Wallace that I need a “distraction.” He’s not wrong.

Especially when I get another text from my canker sore of a cousin Patrick.

If you forgive me, I can move back from Vegas. I hate it there, cuz .

Good. He should hate it there. The rest of the family had a big meeting after Patrick’s charges were dropped by the district attorney.

Not enough evidence or some bullshit. Granddad basically said Patrick had to leave, or the whole family would fall apart.

So he sent him to Las Vegas to live with Granddad’s cousin Aleksandr.

Please, Dani. I’m sorry, okay?

I don’t know why I don’t block him, but I should. Maybe I like how miserable he sounds.

The doorbell rings. I’m closest, and already wondering if this is another stupid gift from stupid come-for-brains Edmund. Sure enough, a uniformed delivery woman stands on the stoop. I have to sign for a beautiful, magenta box. The sender is, of course, Edmund.

Rita gasps when I carry it into the kitchen. “No freaking way.”

“What?”

“That’s from Baciarvita.”

“And?” I find the kitchen scissors and start hacking at the luxurious black ribbon.

Rita shakes her head of curly red hair and snatches the scissors from my hand. “And one does not stab a box with a Baciarvita bag inside it. Here.”

I stand back, amused, as she delicately cuts through the ribbon. She hovers her hands over the top of the box as if she’s saying some kind of blessing.

“What are you doing?” I ask, laughing.

“Dani, this is serious. Baciarvita means ‘to kiss life.’ It means the world. Heaven. Everything.” She sighs, all melodrama. “You have, in this box, the kind of handbag I’ve dreamed of for my entire adult life.”

“Then it’s yours.”

“What?” She squawks. “No. You can’t give this kind of thing away. You—you haven’t even seen it!”

“Easy decision.” I shrug and walk toward my bedroom. “I don’t want it. I don’t even want to see what it looks like.”

Rita gasps and keeps repeating, “I couldn’t. No way.”

But I bet, eventually, she’ll cave and start using the bag.

* * *

Troy

Since we saw Dani at her grandfather’s house, the past few days have been strangely quiet. Edmund’s father and grandfather have talked about retaliating against the Aseyevs for the whiskey sabotage while outwardly making nice with shit like gift baskets. As far as I know, nothing’s happened.

When Edmund told his father he doesn’t think the Aseyevs blew up the whiskey, he was met with disbelief. He’s in his dad’s office now, arguing about it again. It’s late in the evening. Neither of them will have much patience with the other.

Edmund told me to wait out here with Arky. Seems risky, but maybe he just wants to have it out with his dad.

Since nobody’s around, I scratch Arky’s ears. “Who’s a good boy?”

The silly dog wags his tail and presses against my leg. I think Arky wishes he was one of those purse dogs so we could carry him around with us everywhere.

“They fucking did it, we know they did it!”

I wince at Ed Senior’s raised voice. It means Edmund is pressing, arguing back. It’s good, I guess, for Edmund to push his father. But it rarely ends well. Edmund never gets his way. Then Ed gloats for days afterward.

“Then what are you going to do?” Edmund yells back. “Are we going back to the old days where we all kill each other? Is that what you want for the family, for your city?”

They both go quiet. I imagine Ed talking about how San Esteban should’ve been the Laytons’ from the beginning, and if those pricks hadn’t moved in on Layton territory, we wouldn’t be in this position. It’s an argument I’ve overheard a thousand times.

I look down at Arky. He looks up at me. Sometimes I just want to take the dog and run.

But there’s no way out of this life. Not for me. Especially not for Edmund. And even if I could get out, Edmund is my best friend. I could never leave him—or Arky—behind.

* * *

Danica

Rita holds her new handbag close as we leave the movie theater. I think she’s worried someone’s going to mug her for it. I think she’s worried I’m going to mug her for it.

I won’t, although the bag is beautiful. I’ll give Edmund points for his taste. It’s a slouchy shoulder bag in pale pink, with a lollipop charm on the zipper. I haven’t touched it, but it looks soft.

If only it hadn’t come from rat-ass Edmund, I might’ve kept it.

Wallace slings his arms around Elias’s and my shoulders. “So? What did you think? Wasn’t the soundtrack epic?”

His situationship played strings for the score, and he won’t shut up about the guy. It’s kind of cute, actually, and makes me wonder what it would take for Wallace and the situationship to move things to the next level of a legit relationship.

“The soundtrack was epic.” I wrap my arm around Wallace’s waist, hugging him back. “Almost as epic as Kaido Golden’s abs.”

Wallace pretends to swoon, but then, adorably loyal, he says, “No, the soundtrack was better than Kaido’s abs.”

“The movie needed more murder.” Elias is sulking because he wanted to watch a biopic on some serial killer from the 1970s. But he picked the last film we watched for roommate movie night, and it had serial killers, too.

I nearly walk into Rita, who has stopped dead in her tracks.

She stares ahead, absently stroking the Baciarvita bag. “What’s going on up there?”

Wallace, Elias, and I peer across the street as emergency vehicles speed over to the alley across the street and come to abrupt halts.

“Someone was hurt—that’s awful,” Wallace says.

“No, someone was killed.” Elias frowns and makes the sign of the cross. “That’s no ambulance—that’s a forensics van.”

Police officers jump out of cruisers and start stringing up crime scene tape and placing barriers on the sidewalk.

They move with quick, serious movements, like they’ve rehearsed this a thousand times.

Other officers direct traffic and set out cones and lights.

I can’t believe what I’m seeing. This is bizarre and mesmerizing.

I feel horrible for wanting to stare and figure out what’s happening…

but at the same time, I can’t look away.

“Everyone disperse,” an officer says as she crosses the street toward us. “Please move along.”

“Yo, did someone die?” another pedestrian shouts from behind us.

“This is a police matter.” The officer’s face gives away nothing.

“Come on.” I tug on Wallace’s arm, leading him away. Rita and Elias follow along with us.

None of us speak on the drive back to our house. It’s heartbreaking, really. Someone died tonight, maybe while we were in that cozy movie theater, entertained by an action-adventure film and eating our body weight in buttered popcorn.

“Hey, Wallace. Tell your guy that the soundtrack was really good.” Elias clears his throat. “Especially the strings.”

“Thanks.” Wallace pulls onto our street. “I’ll let him know.”

When we get to our driveway, two people are standing by our front door.

One, tall and wearing a plaid shirt with jeans.

The other, much shorter, but standing regally with her silver-blond hair worn down around her shoulders.

I recognize them instantly and jump out of the car as soon as Wallace stops.

“Mom? Dad?” I rush toward them. All I can think about is Granddad—something happened, something bad, and they’re here to give me the news in person. Tears spill from my eyes. I was just there, I just saw him. He was feeling so much better, eating the right foods, taking it easy.

“Dani.” Mom’s voice breaks on a sob.

Wallace, Elias, and Rita all hold back, giving us space because we’re blocking the front door.

“What is it?” My voice quivers. “Just tell me.”

Mom bursts into tears. “He’s dead.”

“Who? Who’s dead?” My mind flashes through all the men in the family. Dad, who is right here and obviously alive. Then Granddad, Patrick… Dmitri .