Page 24 of Treasured By Them
What a fucking wimp. I bite back a sigh. “That all?”
“Hey, it’s a big deal when I’m trying to do my job.” His voice rises. “I tried talking to her about it, but she said I should talk to the quote-unquote asshole dommy douchebags she lives with.”
“She said what?” Edmund lowers his voice.
“We’ll talk to her.” I end the call before Morraine can repeat the insult. Then I face Edmund. “So, she’s fighting her personal security. That’s not going to work.”
“If she won’t agree to a bodyguard, she should quit her job.”
I pocket my phone and wipe down the bench. “Not a bad idea, if we can convince her to do it.”
“Fuck that.” He shakes his head. “We’ll tell her to do it.”
A shadow moves in the doorway.
Shit. Dani’s listening. I make a cutting motion with my hand, but Edmund isn’t paying attention.
Edmund grabs another towel and rubs the sweat from his face. “She’ll hate it, but that’s why we’re in charge?—”
“Edmund.” I put enough urgency in my voice to make him stop.
“What?”
Dani strides into the room, her cheeks pink with anger. “I can’t believe the two of you. Scheming to have me quit? What’s next? I’m barefoot and pregnant, packing brown-bag lunches for you to take on your gangster hang-outs?”
Edmund bursts out laughing. “Gangster hang-outs?”
“Whatever the fuck you do.” She crosses her arms, visibly seething. “Either way, I’m not quitting my job. Fuck you both, you are asshole dommy douchebags.”
Before Edmund or I can say anything, she whirls around and stomps down the hallway, slamming her bedroom door.
I exchange a look with Edmund. She won’t get away with talking to us like that.
Danica
I throw myself on my bed. Fury pulses behind my eyes. The nerve of those assholes. Bad enough I’m in this arrangement to begin with, but on top of that, they want to control whether or not I go to work?
Fuck that, and fuck them.
Yes, it’s true I haven’t been making Caleb’s job easy. That’s on me. I don’t think his presence is necessary, and it’s weird feeling like someone’s always there. When I go to the bathroom, he’s standing around, waiting for me to come out. Every joke I laugh about with Isabelle, Caleb is there to hear it, too. Every tiny spoonful of ice cream I “taste test for quality control”—Caleb notices that, too.
I wouldn’t usually consider myself a self-conscious person...until I feel like every move is being scrutinized.
“Danica.” Edmund knocks on my door. “We need to talk.”
“No.” I sound like a sulky child, but I don’t care.
“Danica. If you don’t open the door, I’ll break it down.”
“You sound like such a daddy.” I stick my tongue out at the closed door. What is wrong with me? Of course they’re treating me like I can’t make my own decisions—I’m acting like an unreasonable toddler.
Also, a secret part of me would love for Edmund and Troy to break down my door. I want to see them standing fierce and furious on the other side, with splintered planks littering the floor at their feet.
But I probably shouldn’t push my luck. I stride over to the door and yank it open. Both Edmund and Troy stand in the hall in front of me, flat expressions on their faces.
“Thank you for opening the door.” Edmund’s voice is tight.
“Yes, well.” I clear my throat and square my shoulders, even though these two men standing tall and stern like that is making me quake with the need to beg forgiveness. “We should talk, you were right about that.”
