Page 11 of Mastered by Them (Rose and Dagger #2)

Troy

“M anchester.” Caleb sits next to me at the bar. The bartender—a relatively new guy since our last one was poached by the Vorsongs—brings him a beer.

Ernest’s is a quiet bar in the business area of Salding. Dark wood, low but tasteful lighting, artsy paintings on the wall. It’s popular with the Layton family and the guys like me and Caleb who work for them. I should’ve known I wouldn’t get a lot of peace here.

I nod at him. “Morraine.”

He makes a show of looking around the dark-paneled room. “Where’s your guy?”

“Working.” I don’t let on that Edmund’s in Mirarosa, checking out Caleb’s security measures. Again.

“Ah.” If Caleb bothered that I’m not more forthcoming, he doesn’t show it. “He seems really into the Aseyev girl.”

Hell. Now we’re gossiping? “What makes you say that?”

“He nearly killed his cousins at the engagement party.”

I snort. “They probably deserved it.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Caleb doesn’t sound convinced. “You guys sharing her?”

“Fuck you, mind your own business.”

“So you are.” He smirks and catches the eye of a black-haired woman sitting on the other end of the bar. “Or you were. And you like her, too. That sucks, man. Edmund never struck me as the kind of guy to share his favorite toys for very long.”

“You better watch your mouth.” I let the wordless threat hang in the air.

“Right. Not my business, like you said.” He drains his beer and stands up. “See ya, Manchester.”

I force my shoulders to relax. “See ya.”

Seconds later, he’s chatting up the dark-haired woman. She smiles back at him, but I can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. I bet he’s name-dropping the Laytons, because soon enough she’s holding onto his arm.

It doesn’t take long before they’re leaving the bar together.

I frown after him. He’s doing a shitty job as the Laytons’ head of security, and it’s going to be bad for the family.

Maybe I’m not thrilled with everything Edmund’s doing with Dani, but I don’t want Vorsong Circle to move in.

It would be bad for a whole fuckton of people.

Not just the Laytons and Aseyevs, but San Esteban as a whole.

The Vorsongs are like locusts. They come in, rip apart a city, then move on to the next.

“There you are,” a feminine voice says behind me. “Christ, Troy, I’ve been scouring the city for you.”

I freeze, blood cold.

She hops onto Caleb’s empty bar stool. Her rich blond hair is loose around her shoulders. A different look for her. She usually has it in a strict bun.

She reaches for my forearm, but I flinch back.

Keeping my limbs well out of her reach, I say, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Troy. Come on. I’ve been trying to recruit you.”

“Not interested.” My stomach’s a mess of writhing ropes. Nausea grips me by the throat.

“Please. I really need you.” She smiles.

It’s a beautiful smile—pink lips, white teeth. Symmetrical, welcoming. A dimple at the corner suggesting playfulness.

It’s the smile of the devil before she drags you into hell.

As much as I’d love to escape the Layton family and the torture of watching Danica marry Edmund, I can’t go back. I won’t go back.

Her smile fades as she switches into her placid business face. “The new office has a grand opening coming up soon. I have someone scheduled for security, but you would do a much better job.”

“Still not interested. Just like I told Faulk.”

“Faulk didn’t give you the full extent of the deal.”

“There is no deal I would ever accept from you.”

“Troy.” Amber’s eyes hold a hint of warning. “Don’t be like that. Maybe we didn’t end on the best terms, but I can forgive you for it.”

I won’t fall prey to her manipulations. You hurt me, Troy. The only solution is to ignore her until she leaves.

“Come on.” Her voice is wheedling, whiny.

“You’re not getting anywhere with me.” I stare at the glowing beer sign just behind her head.

“Fine. For now.” She leaves her card with her number on the bar next to me. “Give me a call, Troy. I really need you.”

Only when she’s gone do I feel like I can breathe again.

* * *

Danica

“It isn’t only for the appearance of unity.” Granddad gives me a beseeching look over his cup of herbal tea. He has quite a spread arranged for me—tea, my favorite honey spice cookies, and breakfast pastries that he isn’t allowed to eat because of his heart. “It’s for your safety, granddaughter.”

“Did Edmund put that idea in your head?” I ignore the food and tea. Now that I know he brought me here to discuss Edmund, I won’t accept his bribery.

“No. I haven’t spoken to him.”

I squint at my grandfather, searching for signs that he’s lying. He isn’t, though.

He squints right back at me. “You don’t have to share his bed. You’ll have your own room.”

“No. Not happening. Also, I don’t want to talk about bedroom arrangements with my granddad, thanks very much.”

Granddad takes a sip of his tea and nudges the plate of cookies toward me.

I look away from the plate.

“I would offer to put stakes on a chess game with you,” he says, “but I think you will win. And I do not want to gamble with my family’s safety—do you?”

A slant of light hits the chess table, beckoning me into memories of the two of us hunched over it. Granddad, ever the teacher, would have me repeat moves and walk me through strategies. I trusted him to steer me along the right path.

I still trust him.

But what he’s asking me today is so outrageous, trusting him is hard.

He doesn’t rush me through my thoughts. There’s no chess clock running; there never was.

I allow my mind to entertain the what if . What if I moved in with Edmund and Troy? Would it hurt me? My pride, yeah, in that they think I can’t take care of myself. I could handle that kind of hurt.

Heartbreak is the bigger risk. I’m falling for Troy. I’m even falling for Edmund—although I can’t explain why.

And then there’s that inner confusion. I don’t want to be told what to do, and yet I crave being under their control.

What does it mean?

Only one way to find out.

“Fine. I’ll do it. But I’m bringing Cackle.”

The next day, movers load my boxes into a truck and ferry it to Edmund and Troy’s apartment. I drive my own car with Cackle meowing pitifully in his carrier.

I have a shiny new reserved parking space in the garage below the building, and my own code to use the elevator.

Edmund and Troy direct the movers to the guest room, which I’ll be using.

It already has a bed and dresser, so my furniture won’t be necessary.

I left those things at my old place, and I’m still paying rent.

This move is temporary. I didn’t bring much.

My cat. Clothes, toiletries, books. My journals, of course.

Eventually, the movers leave. I go down the hall to my room and stare at the boxes lined up. They don’t even fill a single wall. Cackle, still in his carrier, continues to meow.

“Do you want some help unpacking?” Edmund’s voice startles me.

“No. I’m setting Cackle free so he can explore the room.” I open the door to the en-suite bathroom and see that his litter box has already been set up. His water bowl is out, too, and I put a few pieces of kibble in his food dish.

I close the bedroom door in Edmund’s face and open Cackle’s carrier. He bolts out like he’s been shot from a cannon and immediately starts patrolling the room.

The queen-sized bed seems opulent and decadent compared to the tiny twin I slept in at my place.

The comforter is a soft, dove gray which matches the filmy curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling window.

A modern, gray-stained wooden dresser faces the bed, with a decorative mirror placed over it.

The mirror will have to go. Nothing scarier than waking up from a nightmare and seeing another face staring back at you… even if it’s your own.

I lift the mirror and slide it into the back of the walk-in closet.

Now the wall looks empty—it needs something. Perhaps a dartboard bearing the likeness of my fiancé’s face? The idea makes me snicker.

I pad over to the window and look out over the city lights. It’s late. I could go to sleep—I’m not even hungry.

Or I could leave this room and wreak some havoc.

Cackle is busy surveying his new kingdom, so I ease out of the bedroom.

Troy stands in the large kitchen, chugging a glass of water. He’s wearing black sweatpants, nothing else. They curve low on his hips. My mouth goes dry and I reflexively swallow.

He makes eye contact. “Dani. Can I get you anything?”

“Depends. Where’s Edmund?”

He jerks his head toward the living room.

“Perfect.” I grin and lift my shirt over my head. “Follow me.”

Intrigued, he does as I ask. His footsteps are silent as he travels in my wake. I shed my bra as I move into the living room.

Edmund sits up, his eyes wide and locked on my bare chest. “Well, this is a nice surprise.”

I ignore him and look over my shoulder at Troy. “Want to go swimming?”

“Sure.” He sounds amused.

“Fuck, yes,” Edmund adds.

I scoff. “I’m inviting Troy, not you.”

“Is that how we’re playing?” Edmund shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Have fun out there, brat.”

“I will.” I reach for the light switch by the giant picture window. The pool glows a soft blue, inviting. Turning, I see Troy has already shoved down his sweatpants. His cock stands half-erect.

I shimmy out of my jeans and underwear, dropping them on the floor. Then I slide open the door and step into the cool, evening air.

“You’re really not inviting me out there, huh?” Edmund calls after me.

“Not a chance.” I grin back at him, then reach for Troy.

“Don’t do this just because you want to make him jealous,” Troy says in a low voice.

I laugh. “His jealousy is a side benefit. I’m doing this because I want you. And be honest...would you really mind that much if it were the main reason?”

He looks me up and down, heat in his dark brown eyes. “I suppose not, little girl.”

Little girl. I like the sound of it, every time he calls me that. It fits us, too, because he’s so big, and I’m so short.

Spinning around, I dive into the pool. The water is shocking to my system at first, but after I traverse the length, it feels perfect.

Troy dives in and makes long, powerful strokes to join me at the far end. I grab onto his shoulders. He dips under the water, taking me with him. Our arms and legs twine together and his mouth finds mine in an underwater kiss. Everything is soft, wet, wonderful.

My heart pounds with excitement and my body comes alive with his touch. He brings us back to the surface so we can breathe. I plaster myself against his torso, grabbing on with my legs and arms.

“Up you go.” He lifts me out of the water so I’m sitting on the edge of the pool.

I stare down at him, waiting for whatever he does next.

His dark eyes locked on mine, he says, “Spread those legs for me, baby girl. I want to taste you.”