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She may not want to be followed around by me, but I see through her bravado. She doesn’t want to be protected by me because she wouldn’t be able to handle the proximity. Our attraction would only deepen if we spent that much time together.
That’s the reason I need to turn down Asher’s request. As much as it will pain me, I can get someone else on the team to watch out for her in the physical sense, but I’ll keep tabs on her and catch the fucker trying to hurt her myself.
“Ava, can we discuss this after the party?” Asher asks, presumably seeking to make sure no eavesdroppers are lurking to catch gossip about the Wells siblings.
“Fine,” Ava says, brushing at a stray curl that slipped from the elaborate knot her hair is arranged in and tucking the dark lock behind her ear. “But we will be discussing this together,” she stresses. “No more going behind my back and thinking you can make decisions about my life.”
Ava casts one more glance in my direction, meeting my gaze again, before straightening her shoulders and walking back in the direction she came from.
I’m proud ofmy girl. She’s come a long way from that timid creature who could hardly look me in the eye.
This Ava wasn’t backing down.
Asher shakes his head. “Why did I ever want a sibling?” he questions and drains the contents of his champagne.
I chuckle. I can’t resist goading him. “Sisters and daughters are payback for how you’ve treated women. This is karma at work, mate.”
Asher shakes his head at my sentiment. “It must be. Now I’m the only man in a family of women, and I’m at my wit’s end,” he says, his gaze dragging over to where Ava, his wife, Madison, and his mother were convening.
I knew the Wells patriarch’s passing did a number on my friend. Henry Wells was the closest thing I ever had to a true father, and tonight is the first time the Wells annual New Year’s Eve party has gone on without him.
Madison finds where we are standing and motions to her husband for him to join them. I glance at my watch and see there’s only three minutes to midnight.
Before heading over to the women, Asher turns back to me. “Despite what Ava says, this situation is more serious than she is letting on. Tell me you’ll think about it.”
Protecting Ava? Wasn’t something I needed to think about. My first answer was a resounding yes. But the commonsense part of my brain was screaming danger ahead.
I nod because I can’t say all I’m thinking. Asher could be Mr. Prim and Proper, but when it came to his sister, I’d seen a different side of the man.
And I really like my tuxedo and don’t need bloodshed tonight.
“Go to them,” I stick with instead. “Don’t worry. Ava will be fine.”
Asher smiles and his shoulders visibly relax at my words. “Let me go join the lionesses. Wish me luck,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder before making his way towards the front of the tent and wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist.
I’m distracted by watching the Wells family begin countdown to midnight. I sense that familiar pang of…something in my chest when I look at happy families. I wouldn’t dare call it envy.
Ava couldn’t ever belong to me. Ava represents pureness and light. All my darkness, my filthy hands and my devil’s reputation, shouldn’t go anywhere near her and yet I want her.
I want her to be mine with every cell in my body. Mine to caress. Mine to capture.
No other woman brings out the caveman in me. What was Asher thinking? Requesting I become Ava’s personal protection when it’s me she needs protection from was akin to asking the wolf to protect Little Red.
When did these feeling change from seeing her as Asher’s cute kid sister to wanting Ava?
Cravingher.
Protecting Ava was too risky. Surely, one of my men could handle her protection. Only, did I want them around her?
The vibration against my thigh stops my line of thinking, and I extract the phone and peer at the contact name.
James Eastwood.
I let the phone continue to ring. Armageddon could strike tonight, and I’d join the devil’s ranks before I ever spoke to James again. He was never a father to me. No, a father evoked feelings of someone who sat you on their knee or gave life advice to their only son. Pats on the back for a job well done and uttering the words “I’m proud of you.”
All my father ever provided were insults and raised fists.
The fucking nerve to call me on a holiday like we ever had that kind of relationship.
