When we’re in the bedroom, Brennan’s fingers find the zipper of my dress, his calluses grazing my spine as he eases it down, slow and deliberate, sending shivers racing across my skin.
I lean into him, expecting his lips to trail down my neck, to claim me like they always do, but he stops.
“Let me get your bath started.”
With that, he leaves us. I frown. Generally he’ll do that after one of our vigorous lovemaking sessions.
Puzzled, I look at Dorian.
His steel-gray eyes are dark and distant.
He cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheek, and presses a lingering kiss to my temple. “Rest, little one.” His lips are warm, but his words are clipped, like he’s holding something back. “We’ll be back soon. We’ve got some things to handle.”
My stomach flutters. “Things to handle?Now?”I expected that we’d be tangled in bed, their hands erasing the night’s chaos.
But when Brennan returns, my men share a quick glance and promise they’ll be back soon.
In moments, the door clicks shut behind them, leavingme alone with the hum of the city beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. My skin prickles, not just from the cool air but from the weight of their absence.
I shimmy out of the dress, letting it pool on the marble at my feet. Uncertain, I’m standing there in my lace lingerie, my heart thudding with a mix of longing and unease.
The bath Brennan ran waits, the steam curling with lavender, the tub a deep, inviting pool.
I slip out of my undergarments, letting them gently fall to the marble floor. Then I sink into the hot water, sighing as I’m wrapped in the warmth and essential oils.
My muscles loosen, but my mind races, replaying the night. Moretti’s words—”Keep your husband sharp”—cut like a blade, his cold smile hinting at secrets I don’t know about.
Like a wave, the things I overheard Everett say return. He mentioned my father and an escort ring. Though I have little love for the man and I question his morals, surely he can’t be involved in something so vile?
My stomach churns.
And now with the way Dorian and Brennan are acting, I’m upset, concerned, and I need to know what’s going on.
Even though I sink deeper, I can’t make the questions disappear.
My heart racing, I finally give in to the need to know what’s going on.
Determinedly I step out of the tub to towel off.
Instead of dressing in lingerie or pajamas, I slip into my silk dressing gown. Then I cinch the belt tight, as if it can hold me together.
In the bedroom, I see a light blinking on my phone, so I pick it up.
There’s a text from an unknown number.
Adrenaline spikes in my system.
I shouldn’t look, but I have to.
You were a vision in blue tonight, Mrs. Vale. But even stars flicker when the wolves begin to circle.
My breath catches, my fingers trembling. It’s too personal, like someone was watching me, closer than Marcella’s lens. My pulse accelerates even faster as fear and anger tangle in my chest.
I refuse to live my life in the dark, in fear.
There is absolutely no doubt my men are hiding something, and I’m determined not to stop until I get the answers I need.
Most evenings, I don’t think twice about the office.