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Unease builds inside of my chest as I observe them closely and wonder what exactly is going on here--if Antonio has any real connection with these guys besides letting them into his home. They all have an air of mystery about them that forces questions from my mind at an alarming rate.
"Looking for him, actually," the middle man speaks again. "What are you doing here?"
His presence is formidable and strikes an ancient fear into my bones as if he's some sort of god-like figure that can move mountains at any given moment or even shake up time itself. And yet he stands there before us all with poise, confidence radiating off him as though it were a glowing aura around him instead of emanating from inside himself.
His words seem arrogant but amused; never do they sound hostile nor judgmental despite our glaring difference in power or wealth between us all--it's almost charming due to its maturity and gracefulness while simultaneously making it clear who holds what kind power over whom without having them say another word about it out loud directly
My cheeks flush. I don't want to come right out and say I was railed by their friend just last night, though it's clear that's what happened. Instead, I bite back viciously, "None of your damn business! Get out already!"
The first two men lunge forward and I scramble back in fear. The middle man stops them with a small hand gesture and I sit there, completely mortified.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
6
XAVIER
The petite female sitting in the mound of blankets glares up at me with all the fury of a livid succubus.
"What the hell was that?" she demands, referring to the moment Sullivan and Mars jumped forward to show her just what happens to those who raise their voice at me.
Her full lips are pursed slightly, and her vibrant eyes flick between the three of us as frantically as a skittish feline wondering what could happen next. When I came in looking for Antonio, I was not expecting to find a woman in his place--let alone one as feisty as this. Her consistent glare brings a smirk to my face.
Well, Antonio has good taste.
I chuckle, realizing that she truly has no idea who I am, or whose bed she fell into last night.
"Not to brag," I begin as I cross my arms, "but I do believe that whatever goes on in this house is, in fact, my business. Wouldn't you agree, Sullivan?"
The man to my right nods curtly. "Yes, sir."
She blinks a few times, having obviously believed this sprawling property to belong to her lover. Then she narrows her eyes at me yet again.
"And that gives you permission to be a complete dick?" she counters.
I shrug nonchalantly, smirking wider. "I don't see why it wouldn't."
"And what about a pervert?" she shoots back viciously.
My smirk fades, and I can't help but look her up and down with a leisurely gaze. Her creamy skin has been revealed from beneath the covers, now that she's shifted onto one elbow as if prepared to fight. But instead of cowering at this moment of scrutiny, she glares right back without an ounce of fear.
"Pervert? Now that's pretty strong language," I muse aloud. “What makes you think I'm anything like that?”
It would be a bold-faced lie that this particular female doesn't turn me on in some fashion. Still, I feel inclined to reassure her.
"I won't harm you," I declare slowly and calmly as Sullivan and Mars look between us with nervous expressions set hard upon their faces, "No one here will, so there's no need to worry about it darling."
At this, her expression softens a bit, though she still looks doubtful. She sits up in the blankets and pulls them around her protectively. Her mouth flattens into a thin line as if she's trying to resist the urge of telling me off, however, something in her demeanor shifts ever so slightly. She takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment before releasing with an audible sigh.
"And I'm supposed to trust you?" she mutters cynically.
I chuckle at her response and come to the conclusion that she's one tough nut to crack--a challenge unlike any I've ever faced before nonetheless enjoyed tackling head-on when given opportunity enough. It would be my pleasure proving myself trustworthy; showing this little fireball who exactly is in charge here without causing too much friction between us along the way was going to require finesse beyond compare - but then again what fun would life be without its challenges?
"Not necessarily," I tell her, "but it's true either way." She scoffs at my arrogant response. I love it.
"What is your name?" I ask.
"What's yours?" she demands.
