Page 8

Chapter Eight

Jolie

Thumping behind my eyes alerts me to the shit show that was last night. My head feels like it’s filled with cement, and I swear my tongue has grown a layer of fuzz overnight. Ugh.

“Turn the lights off,” a masculine voice croaks from behind me.

My whole body goes rigid, and I try to sort through the hazy fog clouding my brain. Zero—I come up with nothing. Ninja-flipping out of the bed, I hit the carpet with a soft thud. I wait... nothing. I feel my body and I have a shirt on, so that’s something. Who the fuck is in my bed? I rise onto my hands and knees to peep over the side of the bed, hoping I won’t regret what I’ve done. It wouldn’t be the first time I have done something stupid, but I usually remember. I don’t think I had sex last night. I can feel my bikini still on underneath the oversized shirt.

Think, Jolie, think. What the hell happened after the body shots with Danika? Whatever Marlow gave me wasn’t a good idea. What, or rather who, did wasted Jolie get up to last night?

Looking past the jumble of bedding, I spy a naked back. That doesn’t help. I crouch back down on my hands and knees and crawl towards the door. I will deal with this later. For now, I need water and something greasy.

One thing I love about rich people is their doors never squeak. No loose floorboards that groan under pressure. I slip from the room, still on all fours, when a set of bare feet comes into view.

“Isn’t the other person supposed to do the walk of shame?” Looking up, I see Davis extending a hand out to me.

“To be fair, I have no idea who it is. Figured I would deal with this killer headache before kicking whoever it is to the curb,” I reply as Davis pulls me to my feet and we walk side by side to the kitchen.

“I didn’t think you would be a blow and throw type of girl. The poor guy probably just wants to cuddle.”

“Pssh, cuddling? That is what teddy bears are for. If I had any sense about me last night, he would have had his marching orders before I passed out.”

Davis laughs as we enter the kitchen. Brennan is standing by the breakfast bar, looking fine as hell. I have never seen him in a suit before.

“Morning,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee.

The other guys are all seated at the breakfast bar, picking at fruit and muffins.

“Hold up, spin for me.” A smile reaches Brennan’s lips, and he turns. “You scrub up well and your ass is fine in those pants.”

Davis coughs from beside me, using my bluntness as his escape. He takes a seat beside Boston, who is shooting daggers my way.

“Jolie, inappropriate,” Brennan chastises.

“But is it really? You’re not my caseworker anymore.”

Brennan shakes his head, turning to wash out his coffee cup. It’s nice to see he doesn’t just leave his mess for the housekeeper.

“Talking about inappropriate, Jolie has a boy in her room.”

My jaw clenches. Davis, the snitch, better be glad he is no longer standing beside me.

Boston and Laughn jump from their chairs, looking ready to commit murder.

“I’m going to kill him,” Laughn snaps.

“Sit down!” Brennan barks.

I watch as a will to defy Brennan crosses their faces, but after a few seconds, they both sit. Interesting... Brennan holds some kind of power over them. I make a note to keep an eye on that dynamic.

“You too, Jolie.”

I take a seat beside Case and lay my head on the cool bench. No one starts talking, so I close my eyes. This is how the beginning of the end always starts. I mess up, I get the talk, and I usually just mess up again. Brennan is the one who told me I self-sabotage.

“Here,” a voice says after a few minutes.

Taking my time to sit up straight, I find a cup of water and two pills have been placed in front of me. Sighing in relief, I make quick work of downing the pills.

“So, a boy,” Brennan starts. He better not try to give the birds and the bees talk—surely he knows I dropped my skittles a long time ago.

“Marlow gave me drugs,” I blurt out, pointing towards him, trying to deflect.

“Seriously, I give up. You are all adults. Jolie, it may be best to not bring any guys back here, unless you want them dead. Laughn and Boston do not need to be bailed out of jail again.”

“Fine, but I don’t see why they care. Boston doesn’t like me and Laughn keeps a pet girl,” I argue.

“If Boston even talks to you, he doesn’t hate you, and Laughn doesn’t do anything to those girls that they don’t want,” Marlow defends on his friends’ behalf. “You are now one of us, whether we like it or not. Brennan, for some strange reason, brought you here, and we protect our own—that now includes you by extension.”

“What he said,” Case interjects before shoving half a muffin into his mouth with zero grace.

“Bloody hell. This is why I never wanted brothers,” I huff under my breath.

“Burn! You guys just got friend zoned,” Petra adds, walking through the kitchen with a mop in hand, high-fiving me as she passes by.

“I really love her,” I say as she exits the room. The others don’t say anything or even get the chance before my stomach grumbles.

“How far away is the nearest Maccas?”

All their heads snap up as if I said something wrong.

“Why?” Brennan asks cautiously.

“Because I’m feeling queasy and greasy crap food is supposed to help,” I say back, confused by our exchange. “Plus, I could go for a chocolate frappe.”

“The closest one is about forty minutes away if there’s no traffic. If you didn’t notice, McDonald’s is not the food of the people here,” Davis says.

Of course it isn’t. All these rich people with their private chefs and eating out.

“You go kick out your friend, and I will make you something to eat,” Brennan offers.

I sigh and slip from the stool. “Sounds good. If I’m not back down in five minutes, assume he has lured me into a sex dungeon against my will.”

Brennan snorts at my joke. At least someone thinks I’m funny.

“I will give him three minutes and then I’m coming up,” Laughn threatens. “No one puts my baby in a sex dungeon... except me.” He winks, and Boston elbows him in the ribs.

I race up the steps—three minutes isn’t a very long time, and Laughn coming up here to make a scene isn’t a good idea.

Pushing open my door, I find the mystery guy sitting up, and at the noise, he turns to face me.

Holy biceps, Batman; I know my mouth has dropped open. I suspect even a small amount of drool could start rolling down my chin.

“Hey,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if I should wait or sneak out. I know Myers is here somewhere?—”

“And you don’t like each other.” I cut him off, the memory of meeting Mister Preppy coming back to me. “I don’t imagine many people like him. It’s okay, I will walk you out.”

He nods, already half dressed.

We have about thirty seconds before Laughn makes his way up here. I have a vague recollection of this guy, and I’m sure as the memories come back I will get a better picture of how he ended up in my bed.

He follows me downstairs and, luckily for him, our audience joins us as I open the front door.

“So . . .” he says.

“I would say it was fun, but I have very limited memory from last night.” Being straight forward can be a fault, I own that, but I highly doubt this is his first one-night whatever. I’m still convinced there was zero sex.

“Oh, I was just going to ask for my shirt.”

Of course he was.

Lifting the white material over my head, I bunch it up and throw it his way before shutting the door in his face. There, that wasn’t so bad.

My stomach rumbles and nausea washes over me.

“Well, that wasn’t awkward at all.” Case snickers, leaning against the wall. The others have all disappeared.

“Wouldn’t be the first time—probably won’t be the last. What can I say? I love to party and have inadequate respect for tomorrow. I also have a newfound pastime of pissing off Boston.”

Case smiles, pushing himself off the wall. “He’s going to kill you in your sleep. It’s been a while since a girl has challenged him like you have.”

“What? Did he kill her?!” I laugh, but Case goes stiff.

Reading body language is something I do well, and I know he can’t decide on how he wants to respond. I hit a nerve, a serious one, and can’t help but wonder how they would all react to this topic.

“Jolie, food is done,” Brennan calls.

Time to see how bad a trigger this girl is.

Case doesn’t follow me, but the rest of the guys are seated back at the breakfast bar, talking amongst themselves. Taking a seat in front of the plate Brennan cooked for me, I scoop some of the steaming hot eggs into my mouth, then swivel to face the guys. I’m still in my bikini from last night, and Marlow throws his shirt at me, which I pull over my body.

“So, is it true? Did you kill a girl that challenged you like I do?”

Brennan’s hand comes down hard on the bench, causing me to jump. The guys at the table have different reactions. Boston storms off, Marlow lays his head on the table, closing his eyes. Davis calls me a fucking bitch, running off after Boston, and Laughn just stares at me.

“Sensitive much? I was curious to see if I was in any danger.”

“Jolie, just fucking stop,” Brennan snaps.

I have never seen him lose his composure like this. I open my mouth to apologise, but he stops me by raising his hand up.

“Take your food to your room.”

I silently do as he says, with another thing to add to my list.

List of suspicious shit:

1- Weird note.

2- Kidnapped and chased… Was it them?

3- Brennan being there to save me.

4- Being fostered by Brennan’s parents.

5- Brennan being a God.

6- Everyone’s reaction to me asking if Boston killed a girl.