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I press my lips together, feeling a flush run down my neck when Griffin raises a brow at me as if he knows what I’m thinking.
“Well then,” blue eyes drawls, coming up on the other side of my chair. His hip brushes against my shoulder and I fight the urge to turn around and look at him, that fierce heat returning to my body, but for a different reason this time.
And now that I’m sitting between them an entirely different fantasy is already running through my head. Hot, hard, crowded…
Blue eyes taps a finger along the collar of my jacket before I feel his fingers slide beneath the fabric. His touch is warm and gentle. Enticing. I can’t help it. I tilt my head back to stare up at him.
His eyes are hot and penetrating, his lips curving up in a slow smile. “This tension… I can’t say it's quite expected-”
“But we need to get on track,” Cobain says and I have to wonder who pissed in his cheerios.
He’s a grumpy little something.
And a motherfucking killjoy.
I turn my gaze away from Blue eyes to stare at Cobain, finding him already watching me.
Griffin may give me nerd vibes, but with Cobain there’s something very nordic about him, like he could be a viking or Thor’s brother.
Or like that hot blonde fucker from the motorcycle show.
If only he weren’t clearly such a boring sourpuss.
I lick my lips and his eyes track the movement, but otherwise his face gives nothing away. Clearing my throat, I push away all dirty thoughts. “What were you saying about not wanting to hire me? Because I could have sworn that you said you had a proposition for me.”
“We did,” blue eyes says, his fingers continuing to sweep across my skin.
It takes every ounce of willpower that I have not to shiver at the touch.
“We don’t want to hire you, we want to work with you,” Griffin clarifies.
I scrunch my nose, already shaking my head. “No, I work alone.” There’s a couple of people who I work with at times. They’re my drop men, nothing more and nothing less. And I rotate them out like clockwork, never letting anyone get too close or too involved in my workings.
Indy is the only one who I work with often, but that’s different, because I’ve known her since my early days of petty pick pocketing. If she wanted to flip on me, she could have easily done so a long time ago. She knows me and I know her.
But these men, whoever they are, I don’t know them.
I don’t trust them.
“I think you’d be willing to make an exception.” Blue eyes still has his fucking hand on me, but I refuse to be thrown off track.
“No, I don’t make exceptions to my rules. For starters, I don’t know who any of you motherfuckers are, and that’d be grounds enough not to trust you. Throw in the fact that you kidnapped me, and well, sorry but the answer is no, there’s no way in hell I’m going to work with you. You can untie me now and let me go on my merry way, please and thank you.” I wriggle against the bounds as an emphasis for my point.
Griffin lets out a little snort.
“Josiah Cross,” Cobain says and my gaze snaps right back to his. “That’s right, we know he’s your father, and that you, the Architect, your real name is Rian Cross. We know everything.” I don’t know which is louder his footsteps or the beat of my heart as he nears. He bends forward until we’re eye to eye. “Including the fact that you’ve been out for revenge for the last two years. Well, we’re ready to help you get it.”
“What-” The one word is breathless and I can’t force any other to accompany it.
“That’s what we want, Rian. We want you to work with us to steal your father’s fortune.”
