Page 113 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

Full-bodied, not some narrow, carved, fake-tanned thing Hollywood kept pretending leading men should be. He had pale skin, was soft along the jaw, his eyes brightened by the thinnest line of kohl possible on his tear line and clear mascara on his lashes.

His team had outdone themselves.

The tux made him look powerful in a way he hadn’t expected.

Malik’s voice gentled. “Just look at you.”

Xander swallowed around the sudden knot in his throat. “Do I look okay?”

Maya made a sharp sound. “Okay?”

Malik stepped up beside him. “You’ll illuminate that red carpet.”

“I bet you say that to all your clients.” Xander laughed, his eyes burning.

Malik shook his head. “No I don’t. It’s your soul, kid. That’s what makes you stunning. The tux is merely an accessory.”

Roxie pressed her nose against his hand. He scratched her head as he took a few steady breaths. By the time he walked out of the bedroom, his team had packed the emergency kit, the second outfit, and every product Malik insisted he’d need before the night ended. Roxie and Ranger followed him, down the hall until Cassidy appeared near the top of the stairs.

Xander stopped.

Cassidy stood at his full six-foot-three height in a tailored black jacket, black shirt open at the throat, black trousers, and polished black dress shoes. His hair was brushed back, beard trimmed close, his whiskey-brown eyes moving first over him like a security scan…then…like a man.

The second gaze was slower. Hotter.

Cassidy’s focus traveled from his shoes to the line of the tux, up over his chest, his throat, and across his face. Something warm and hungry shifted behind his eyes before the professional mask locked into place.

“Problem?” Xander asked.

Cassidy leaned into him and whispered, voice was rough. “Plenty.”

That tone did dangerous things to his willpower.

Downstairs, the house was full of activity.

God’s men had gathered in the front entry and outside near the vehicles, each of them also in black-on-black everything. Their badges and guns were hidden, but their authority was impossible to conceal.

God’s long, thick hair was loose and flowing over his shoulders, brushing Day’s cheek as he bent into their hushed conversation.

Steele’s back was against the wall in the hallway, looking like a man who guarded the passage to the underworld, his ever-present toothpick between his teeth. Tech stood by his side staring at the tablet in his hand, polished and preppy even in all black, except for the neatly tied white and silver silk bow tie.

Ruxs and Green waited outside under the front portico, scanning the street where the paparazzi had gathered in an attempt to be the first to broadcast details of his appearance for the night.

Free wasn’t visible, but Xander was sure he was hovering close in cyberspace.

The sight of all of them waiting for him hit harder than he’d expected.

Almost a month ago, he’d been terrified, trapped in a workout room, certain he was going to die alone in his own home. Now he stood in the same house, dressed for the biggest night of his career, surrounded by men who’d rearranged their lives to keep him safe.

“Before we go,” Xander started.

The conversations in the entryway died down.

God turned toward him, so did the others.

Xander clasped his hands in front of him because if he didn’t, he might start fussing with his cuffs.

“I know I’ve said it before, but I want to say it again. Thank you. All of you.” His gaze moved from God to Day, Steele, Tech, then through the open door to Ruxs and Green. “I know this hasn’t been easy. I know you have your own lives, your own work, your own problems back home. And I know I’m probably the most high-maintenance person to guard you’ve ever had.”