Page 33 of Watched

“Did he hurt you?” Rome questions, glancing at Blade.

“Fuck off,” Blade spits. “This doesn’t concern you.”

I push Blade away, pointing to the parking lot. “Don’t fucking speak to him like that. Just go. I’m right behind you.”

“Like fuck,” Blade steps to me again, and I hate that I need to look up at him. Six-foot-six fucking giant. “Get in my fucking car. Now,” he says through gritted teeth, the blue of his eyes almost completely invaded by his dark pupils. “I’m not wasting a second at a red light or for some fucker crossing the road.”

“Fine, just go. I’m coming.” The painful scream he releases hits my gut as his fist pounds into the wall. “I’m sorry,” I apologise, turning back to Rome. “I’ll try to make it back for your game, but I need to go. Give my flowers to Indie, say they’re from you or whoever.”

He nods tensely. “Who is he talking about?”

“Alexa.”

“Your ex?”

“You stalked me? That’s cute.”

His face falls. “Your brother is watching your ex?”

“It’s complicated.”

His toned chest strains against his shirt as I close the distance between us and look past him to confirm the area is empty. Not surprisingly, very few ever follow Blade when he throws someone from a room.

Rome stiffens and promptly attempts to retreat when I cup his cheeks and softly press my lips to his. “I’ll be back,” I whisper against them.

“Rain!” Blade yells.

Chilled air flows over my lips as I back away. “You’ll beat them this weekend. You’re Rome fucking Aston. Start acting like it.”

He doesn’t smile like I thought he would; he simply drops his head with a shy nod.

“Okay, thank you,” Dad says, hanging up the phone as we step onto his apartment balcony, the London Eye shining against the dark night only a few blocks away. “She’s okay.”

“I’m going,” Blade informs him calmly.

Dad’s expression doesn’t change as he nods once. “You take Rain and Kieran.”

Kieran stands a few feet away, smoking a cigarette. Kieran and Dad have been best friends since high school, and Kieran became an uncle figure to me. He’s Dad’s main security guard and resides one floor below.

“Why the fuck do you think I picked him up on the way here?” Blade fires back. “Call the pilots and have them at the hangar. Now.”

Blade lost the privilege of having the pilot’s phone numbers less than a week into being here. He called them day and night, attempting to bribe them with extraordinary amounts to get them to take him to LA, but, without conformation from Dad, the jets don’t leave the ground.

Dad arches a brow, gaze locked on Blade’s.

Blade matches his expression. “I’m certain I didn’t stutter.”

“You do not speak to her,” Dad warns.

Blade growls, turning away. I drop myself on the lounge and take my cigarettes from my jacket pocket to light one while fisting the handkerchief.

Blade turns and slides his hands into his jean pockets. “If I agree to not talk to her, will you call them?”

“Yes.”

“Then you have my word. Call.”

I believe Dad is so frustrated with Blade because he sees himself in his Headache. Dad can be ruthless, and he’s intelligent enough to know when to use it. Blade’s similar but lacks control. He’s been working on it, but where Alexa is concerned, it’s best you run.