Page 41 of Nest of Thieves
The alpha in the passenger seat shifts to look at me, waiting for my response. I slide my gaze around. I don’t know the names of the muscle cars. Vette is obvious. He has the Corvette, but there has to be a car that’s close to Lark in the garage. It would make sense. There’s one muscle car that’s more compact, sitting next to the Aston Martin and murdered-out Ford Raptor on a lift kit.
“The small car...it’s a Lark or Larkspur?” I’m guessing here. I’m not a car buff, but I do know a few models.
“It’s actually a Super Lark, but good guess. The Aston Martin is mine as well.” Lark brushes his long hair over his shoulder. “Vette’s probably waiting for us.”
Right. Point taken. Stop wasting time.
We get out, and the guys take my things before I can grab them. I almost point out that they’re being far too nice to someone they’re coercing into helping them, but decide I’d rather keep my arms fresh in case I need to punch or fight my way out.
“We can set you up in the spare room between me and Lark.”
I frown. That’s too close for comfort, but one shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds...or the hand that robs, in this case.
“Sounds good.”
I follow them into the grand foyer, marveling at the staircase I missed admiring on the way out. I was too focused on getting my things. The floor is covered in pretty white marble, and rooms branch off on either side of the foyer with big, arching doorways. The walls are painted a creamy champagne and the crown molding is brilliant white, giving the entryway the illusion of more light than it actually has. Abstract paintings cover the walls, reminding me of the black and white painting in Mac’s room.
The guys are halfway up the stairs by the time I stop staring. I scurry to catch up, clutching the dark-stained handrail. Mac doesn’t complain about carrying Atticus, even though I know the vivarium is heavy. Lark cuts in front of him and pushes through the open door of the room just after Mac’s. Two doors away from the stairs. Lark’s and what I assume is Vette’s doors are on the other side of mine. Across from the row of bedrooms is a large, open space with expensive couches, lounge chairs, three big-screen TVs mounted on the wall, and a refrigerator with glass doors. Beers, soda, and bottles of water line the shelves.
That must be their gaming room.
“You’re so handsome.” I turn and watch Mac lean over Atticus’s cage, tapping on the lid. “Hey, little buddy. You want a cockroach for dinner?”
“He’s not pest control,” I grumble, entering the oversized room. This one isn’t as bold as Mac’s with its black crown molding, but it’s pretty. Soft grays and blues cover the walls. The four-poster bed is nicer than any bed I’ve ever slept on, well, aside from Mac’s. I stand next to it, holding onto one of the posts while I observe the men.
Mac is still talking to Atticus like they’re old friends, and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me soften to the alpha even more. Not everyone likes snakes and Atticus can be a dick.
Lark places my suitcases inside of a walk-in closet and glances around. “Sorry it’s so messy.”
I check to make sure we’re in the same room. It’s spotless.
“This is great.” I jerk my thumb toward the hall. “What about Vette?”
Mac stands to his full height after bending over Atticus’s cage, and I studiously ignore how big they both are. I will not be the fool who falls for the tall alpha. I mean, the height doesn’t hurt, but a woman needs a little more than height, muscle, and charm to win her over, right?
Right. That’s what I’ll tell myself.
Lark not so subtly inhales. “Interesting.”
I stiffen. Fuck my scent, the backstabbing bitch. The scent suppressors I took yesterday are wearing off, and it’s clear to everyone in the room that I’m a little turned on. “What?” I ask, squinting at him.
Reading thefuck offmessage written across my face, he simply shrugs and walks out. “Vette is in the office downstairs.”
Mac does not fuck off.
“You smell really good.”
I give him a look. “That’s so weird.”
“It’s the truth. I’ve never met anyone who smells as delicious as you do.” Mac approaches the bed, stopping a few feet in front of me. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Seriously?”
“That’s a no, then.”
“I’m confused. Are you saying you love me?”
“Not exactly.” He tips his head to the side, and his eyes slowly trail over me, taking their time passing over my legs before flicking up to meet my gaze. “But I can’t deny there’s something enchanting about you. I don’t know if it’s because you’re as wild as we are or because you’re some sort of witch, casting a spell over me. Whatever it is, it makes my skin crawl with the need to know who you are.”
