Chapter Fifteen

“Get that asshole out of my pool,” Cecelia orders Sean from the lounger they’ve been bickering on since we got here.

I press my lips together.

Sorry mouse, the water feels too fucking good.

Sun-drenched and weightless for the first time in fuck knows how long, I crack open my beer and survey the yard. Tyler makes quick work of unpacking our cooler as Cecelia gives Sean hell for not having her back during our little showdown.

“Tell me you didn’t miss me,” he prompts, crowding her on the chair.

“Irrelevant. If I can’t trust you to have my back when I need you, what’s the point?”

Doing my best to drown out their drama, it’s Sean’s last confession that has my ears perking back up. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I don’t know what that is when it comes to you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, for both our sakes, I should probably leave you alone, but I’m not fucking going to.”

There it is—the truth he refuses to spare either of us as he kisses her to drill his point home. As I thought, he’s been fighting himself when it comes to her—while I’ve made a firm decision the predicament will remain his and his alone. Tipping my beer, I survey the sparkling pool and surrounding grounds while I tune in on their back and forth.

“. . . Father has security cameras set up everywhere, and he’s already threatened me about having company. This isn’t going to bode well.”

Which is precisely the reason for our ambush today.

Surprisingly, Sean lets her in on the camera surveillance solution, me, but not the when.

Sean really does trust her, and due to my decision to let her through—if only to hasten serving up Roman’s justice—means she’ll be privy to a lot more in the coming days and weeks. But whatever Sean’s thinking about regarding Cecelia long term is delusional. On that, I decide to let my brother be the one to break it to him when the time comes.

At the moment, Roman is boarding a plane for a day trip to one of his Detroit plants, which gives us just enough time to get in and out. When the subject is redirected to me, Sean pleads my case. “Look, he isn’t easy. But he’s here because he wants to be.”

Part truth, part lie.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? The guy is a motherfucker.”

Tipping my beer to again hide my grin, Tyler intervenes. “Good. Mom and Dad made up. Time to celebrate.” He sprays them with a beer as Cecelia’s laughter rings out, and Sean and I lock eyes as I ready myself to play my part.

My turn to make nice.

He scoops Cecelia up honeymoon style and delivers her to me by jumping them both into the pool. Breaching water, she sputters out her scold as they begin to coo at one another until Sean’s cellphone rings. He immediately exits the pool darting a glance my way before he answers with a, “Hey, Dad.”

Right now, Dad is being played by Jeremy. He’s giving us the all clear, stating Roman’s plane is climbing toward an altitude he can’t be reached—and we can’t be monitored.

Feeling the weight of her familiar stare, Cecelia inches toward me, where I lean against the shallow end wall. Her eyes roaming over me in an unmistakable way.

“I suppose you want an apology,” I say, close enough to drink in every detail. She’s pure temptation—long, drenched, slightly fire-kissed hair, perfect fucking features, bee-stung lips, palm-sized tits, toned torso, ample curves—a literal wet fucking dream. The triangle of material between her thighs hovers just above the water as she inches toward me.

Despite the grudge I have against her maker, she really is the most beautiful fucking girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. Along with a mix of things that would allure any man—innocent and forbidden.

A mouthwatering combination of fire and water.

But despite my body’s constant reaction to her—not for me.

“I won’t hold my breath,” she scoffs.

Downing my beer, I hold up a finger. “Okay, I think I’m ready . . .” I exaggerate my exhale. “I’m sorry I told Sean I caught you staring at my dick.”

She surprises me by tossing her head back and laughing, and I can’t help my return smile. Her eyes widen at the sight of it before she speaks up.

“You are a rare bastard.”

“I prefer motherfucker.” Her eyes bulge. Yeah, I heard you, mouse.

“At least then, it would be somewhat factual. Isn’t that right, Tyler?”

We both glance over to Tyler, who shoots me the finger, adding in a “Fuck You.”

Cecelia and I share a grin as her navy eyes dance along my profile, dipping further with every word she speaks. “You had your door open. I was surprised, to say the least.”

“And the other five minutes?” I quip.

“Do women actually sleep with you?”

“No, never. They’re too busy screaming my name. Except the last girl, she was like a corpse.”

No offense, Ginger.

“You are unreal. Psychiatrist’s dream indeed.”

Her eyes glaze as a little silence lingers—as does her appraisal of me. “What are you thinking about?”

Her guilty gaze drops. “Nothing.”

This girl has no chance of making it in our world if she can’t play off something as simple as sexual attraction. Though I can, I find myself in a new but predictable pattern as I fight my cock’s reaction to her. Thankful when Tyler leaves his lounger and Sean nears with a nod for the both of us, I turn and push out of the pool. Out of time for the patty cake portion of the plan, I begin walking toward the back door, and Cecelia speaks up. “Where are you going?”

“Have to use the can.”

“You could ask.”

The clank of the gate closing at the side of the house cues me in, and I turn and lower my shorts.

“Oh my God,” Cecelia sounds up behind me with fast directions, “through the door past the study, down the hall on the left. Savage.”

Candy from a baby.

“Oh, I think I might like that better than motherfucker.”

Sean joins her in the pool, promptly stealing her attention.

Closing the back door, I glance around before stalking through to the front door and opening it where Tyler stands in wait, our packed duffle bag in hand.

Within seconds we’re in Roman’s sad excuse of a security closet, six surveillance screens stacked atop each other on small shelves.

“You were right. He’s got them angled to capture every possible approach.”

“It’s the reason he built it like this. No ambush is possible without being flagged. Which means there’s something in this house worth finding.”

“Then why wouldn’t he update his cameras?”

“Because he had no real plans of living here.”

“So why bring her here?”

We’re still no closer to finding out why a month after her arrival.

“Exactly,” I say, unzipping the duffle.

Tyler flips through the screens, stopping as Sean corners Cecelia in the pool and begins fucking her.

“Lucky bastard,” he groans, as my eyes linger a little longer on the twist of her features before he kills our view. “Now, let’s hope the fucker has some stamina because, as you know, it’s been a whole week.”

He rolls his eyes due to the number of arguments we’ve had with Sean in trying to keep him at bay until we could figure out how to use their little love quarrel to our advantage. Though he made it my call, he’s been vocal about the time it’s taken.

Taking what I need from Tyler’s backpack, I drop my soaked trunks and start toweling off.

“Jesus, man, some fucking warning would have been nice.”

I pull up my sweats. “Just trying not to leak all over the floor. Don’t want you to have to mop up.”

“I’m talking about the fucking hard-on,” he grits out, eyes pinched closed as I glance down at the inconvenience of interacting with Cecelia.

I slap his jaw playfully, and his eyes pop open in a glare. “You poor thing, I guess you didn’t get the talk. I’ll make it brief. One day, when you’re a big boy, little Tyler will grow three sizes too big and want to do some pushups when he sees a beautiful girl.”

“Play it off all you want, but I physically felt that chemistry you two were stirring up in that pool.”

Shrugging, I bend and dig into the bag, snatching some of the mics and a flash drive.

“You’re not going to deny it?” Tyler asks.

“I don’t lie to myself, but that’s exactly what it is. Chemistry because I can’t and mentally taxing because I won’t. But that’s all it is . . . an old-fashioned case of wanting to fuck what you can’t have because it’s bad for business and will destroy relationships . . . but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

He holds my inquisitive gaze a millisecond before recovering. “Clocks ticking. I’ve got the first floor.”

Making my way upstairs and into her room, I head straight for the laptop on her bed, plug in the flash drive I filled with spyware, and start the download.

Glancing around, I spot a bag of books from a major retailer. Unable to help my grin, I unload it on her bed. She hasn’t been back to the library since I told her it was off-limits. She’s avoiding me when and where she can, as I have her. A receipt floats out—landing on top of the pile—and on the back of it is a handwritten list of books she wants to read.

All of them romance.

Lucky for her, Sean’s just her type.

It strikes me then—as it often has over the years—that most of the population craves that type of connection. By now, I should have felt some deep seeded need inside of me that longs for a spiritual bond to go with the sexual. Maybe by allowing myself to remain stunted, I inadvertently got rid of that urge.

Tyler’s voice jogs me out of my thoughts. “All good up here?”

Shoving the books back into the bag, I situate it the way I found it and pocket the receipt before pulling the flash drive from her computer. “It is now. Got three mics in.”

“Downstairs is good to go, and I got the rest of this floor while you were sniffing through her panty drawer.”

“Fuck off with that,” I say as he flicks my ear playfully when I push past him and head toward the stairs.

“Tell that to your dick,” he mutters.

“He’s a big, big, boy but even with his ego, he makes good decisions.”

“Time will tell,” he taunts, trailing me as I start to take the stairs two at a time and stop on a dime just a few steps down—the hairs on the back of my neck spiking in awareness while an uneasy feeling spreads through me.

“What?” Tyler asks, all traces of animation in his tone gone as I glance up to where he stands at the top of the stairs.

“Sure Roman is on a plane?” I ask, unease running from my soaked head to my bare feet.

“Fucking positive.” His brows pinch in confusion. “What’s happening right now?”

“I don’t know,” I say, scanning the foyer. The feeling starts to dissipate as I start back down the stairs. “Nothing.”

“You sure?” Tyler prods.

No.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”