Page 97 of Romancing His Heart

Yanking the screen closer, I rage type.

She does not require your services, you crazy old fuck. If she wants help learning to be submissive, I’ll do it. If she wants to test the waters in any area, I’ll do it. Her wants and needs are not your concern, so get off her goddamn dm’s and get a life, you worthless piece of shit. She’s mine.Send.

“Loki! You can’t do stuff like that,” she screams. “This is my career. There are ways of handling this bullshit. What you just did is so unprofessional. I can’t believe you would think so little of my career that you’d do something so careless.”

Wait, what?

“Red—”

“Don’t. Don’t you Red me.” I’ve never heard her voice so icy.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to undermine you or your career. But I also don’t want fuck heads coming at you like that. I-I’m serious about you, Sloane. I need you in my bed, in my life, and my heart.”

Where the hell did that come from? But it’s the truth, isn’t it? That’s what I want. She’s what I want.

She opens and closes her mouth multiple times like a fish. Just when I think she will finally speak, I hear the telltale whirring of helicopter blades.

My hand closes over hers, and I’m pulling her from the chair before she can blink. I’ve shoved her into boots and a jacket as her brain attempts to catch up. I count as the sound gets closer and estimate I have one and a half minutes before that bird touches the ground.

“I need you to listen to me. That,” I say, pointing to the ceiling, “is not a good sign.” I reach into the closet, pull out the gun she has been using for target practice, and hand it to her. Pulling open the door, I yank out the bag with the clips and ammo. “I need you to—”

The phone rings, interrupting me, and I run to grab it while continuing to throw shit into a bag for Sloane.

“What?”

“Don’t shoot. It’s us,” Ashton says over speakerphone.

“What?” Sloane and I ask in unison.

“We’re touching down, don’t shoot us.”

“Why …” I glance down at the phone in my hand and see he’s disconnected the call.

“What’s happening?” Sloane asks with a shaky voice.

“I don’t know. I have a feeling I won’t like it, though,” I admit.

My girl stands there with a gun hanging limply in her unsteady hand.

“Baby, you’ve got this. If you had to, you could protect yourself. With this,” I say, lifting her hand holding the gun, “and this.” I point to her head. As I stare into her uncertain eyes, the door bursts open. Ashton stands in the doorway with Seth right behind him.

My jaw goes slack as they enter, leaving my half-brother, Luca, standing in the entryway.

“What the fuck are you doing bringing him here, Ashton?” Red’s voice cuts through the haze of memories attempting to flood my head.

When Luca holds his hands up in surrender, I realize Sloane has taken a few steps forward with the gun aimed straight for Luca’s head. She’s become a damn good shot, and from this range, I have no doubt she could end him here and now, but I don’t want that blood on her hands.

“Sweetheart,” I whisper from behind, “stand down.”

Even as I say the words, my hands have found their way to the weapon at my back. Just because I don’t want the blood on her hands doesn’t mean I’m letting this asshole walk out of here. As she lowers her arms, I raise mine.

“Loki, put the gun away. It would be best if you heard what Luca has to say in person. That’s why we’re here,” Ash mutters.

I’m so confused. I trust Ash and Seth with my life, but bringing an enemy to my doorstep has me rethinking everything I know to be true. Slowly, Luca lowers his arms.

“Do you remember Nadja?” He stands with his arms crossed at his chest. His posture and presence are so much like my own.If our lives had been different, would we have been friends instead of enemies?The thought is unsettling.

“Nadja?” I repeat as pressure builds in my head. My eyesight blurs, and I fight to remain standing as memories flood my brain.