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“Did you buy this?” I ask before trying it. My eyes widen while my mouth enjoys how fucking good this is. “No way does this not have sugar! The sweetness is amazing. Where did you buy this?”
“I made it,” Zander proudly declares.
“We fucking made it!” Domino calls out in annoyance from the door. I’m surprised the man hasn’t popped a vein in this lifetime with his consistent anger tangents.
“All you did was toss it in the fridge,” Zander says with a pouting expression. “Even that, you were complaining.”
“I’m not made to fucking cook for a woman!” he emphasizes, standing at the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest. “This is all besides the point! Iva!”
My mouth is full of another spoonful of amazing pudding. I take my time, turning my head to view the man in question, who’s glaring at me like my existence really pisses him off.
This is the man who was apparently going 200 m.p.h. on the paid freeway to ensure I was alive and well?
They all must have been drunk, high, or on some sort of drug because I can’t envision Domino Leighton giving a shit about me in the slightest.
He continues to enjoy hating me down in his selfish veins.
“Hmm?” That is the best way I can answer him with my mouthful.
No way am I rushing finishing this delightful sweetness for anyone… okay, maybe for Zander if he asked me. Ares, too. Jeez, they’re on a higher tier than Warren now. I bet he’s noticed…
“From now on, you don’t go anywhere without one of us, you hear?” he announces as if he needs the entire mansion to know our business. “You’re also doing private training with me!”
Huh?
Taking a few seconds to swallow my pudding, I tilt my head to one side.
“Train with who? You?” It’s absolutely laughable. No, it’s not even plausible to think about because it could never possibly happen in this lifetime. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”
“You can’t defend yourself,” he announces. “If you could, that fucker wouldn’t have got his dirty hands on you!”
“How do you know his hands were dirty?” I ask and look at Zander. “He could have been wearing gloves.”
“You have a good point,” Zander agrees. “Didn’t find any fingerprints that didn’t match any of us on your body.”
“You checked that?”
“Of course we did.” Zander frowns at my surprise. “You’re our Maiden, Sweet Dynamite. Someone dared touch you without our permission. We’re going to make sure we take every stance to try to identify them. How else are we going to get revenge?”
Revenge…
“Iva!”
“I’m listening to you,” I groan, getting irritated with how his voice literally bounces off the walls like a constant echo. “Training because I can’t defend myself. Got it.”
“You’re not taking this fucking seriously!” he growls.
“You know what?” I gather enough strength to uncross my legs, get out of bed, and stomp over to the door until I’m facing Mr. Douche of the Season.
And kicking him right in the balls.
The gasp of dismay comes from our fearsome Ruthless King, who caves over with an array of Russian curses. I take the opportunity to kick him in the chest, sending him back on his ass while he’s still clutching his cock.
Ares and Warren are down the hall, watching the madness, as are Zander, Kian, and Arlo, who are still in the room with me.
With an exaggerated huff, I cross my arms over my chest, hiding my breasts that are probably visible in a silhouette view, thanks to yet another one of Domino’s white shirts.
Man has a fucking closet full of these things that he just loves tossing on me, his damn weak pet that he hates.
