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Maddox.
“What are you doing?” he snarls as he storms toward me, and my heart skips a beat as I watch him descend on me.
“I, um, got off on the wrong floor. I didn’t mean to. What are you doing?” I find myself asking, my tone filled with snark, before I tack on, “Sir?” at the end. He misses a step, and his eyes widen before he stops before me. He towers over me, and I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze.
It was a mistake to question him.
I swallow hard, and fear surges through me as he backs me against the wall next to the still open elevator. His hands come up, and I flinch, making his lips tilt up for a moment, but all they do is press against the wall on either side of me, caging me in as his head lowers. Those dark, dangerous eyes hold me in place, and I can barely breathe. My heart thumps in terror, even as my pussy clenches in need. His mint and whiskey scented breath wafts over my face, his body almost touching mine. Every hard line of his form makes me want to lean into his heat, even as that smile drops and his face turns cold.
“That is none of your fucking business, pet,” he growls. Each word is slow and enunciated, laced with a clear threat—move along, don’t ask, don’t look…but isn’t that what I’m here for? So I hesitate when I know any normal person would duck and escape his clutches, running away and never looking back.
Maddox is a feral animal. Danger fills every muscle of his body, ready to be unleashed, yet I have a strange yearning to see all that power unrestrained all over me. To feel that strength, that danger…that threat of brutality.
For a moment, a flicker of heat fills his dark orbs, and my own widen. Is he going to kiss me? I really think he is. He moves closer, his body pressing to mine. I feel all that power, and a hardness presses against my stomach that makes me gasp. I think the sound breaks him from the moment, and he rips himself away.
He stands almost near the opposite wall, his eyes narrowed and lips thin and angry. His fists are clenched at his sides as he glares at me. “Leave, now,” he barks.
I hesitate again, plastered to the wall like a wilting flower. My chest heaves, my cheeks are red, and my legs clench together to try and relieve the pressure building there, even as the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
“Now,” he demands. “Or else,” he adds, the threat evident.
I might want him, I might wish to experience the beast that is Maddox Dixen, but right now, fear outweighs my curiosity and desire.
I run.
Straight into the elevator. I press the button again and again with shaky fingers as he watches me. His body trembles as if he’s holding himself back from chasing me… Why do I find that thought exciting?
The door slides closed, and only when those dark eyes aren’t on me anymore do I suck in a desperate breath and sag back into the wall as I press my hand to my chest.
Holy fuck, what just happened?
I shake my head. These men are obviously trying to scare me. But one thing is clear—they are hiding something. Maybe Bronson was right.
The door opens, and I double-check I have the right floor before getting off. I need to be more careful. If they really did kill someone, I need to watch my back and give them no excuse. I also need to find out why Bronson thinks they killed someone…and who? Only then can I get to the truth.
When I reach the door to my apartment, I freeze. The door is open, and I hear a low whisper inside. The only thing that stops me from running is the thought of Mischief. So I roll back my shoulders and storm inside, quickly scanning the room as a frown forms on my lips.
“Alistair?” I say dumbly.
He’s crouched on the floor rubbing Mischief’s belly, whose tail is wagging happily with his tongue lolling from his lips. He doesn’t even get up to see me, too happy at Alistair’s feet to beg for pets, the bitch. Why am I jealous?
Alistair looks up though, genuinely smiling when he sees me. “Hey there, Rory,” he greets.
“Hi,” I respond awkwardly, folding my arms across my chest after dropping my shoes to the floor. “Why are you in here?” I ask, unsure what to do.
He stands, and Mischief gets to his feet, rubbing himself against Alistair’s suit pants and begging for attention. When he doesn’t get it, he rumbles and trots over to me. Great, I’m second best now. I drop to my knees anyway and cup his face, raining kisses all over him.
“Hi, baby, did you have a good day? Did you miss me?” I coo, my eyes flickering to Alistair at the end to see his gaze darkening, a smirk on his lips.
“Well, shit, I wish you’d greet me like that,” Alistair murmurs.
Ignoring him, I stroke down Mischief’s back, but my hand catches on a collar. I blame the beautiful Dixen brother for not noticing sooner, but when I do, I sit back, gawking at the gleaming collar around my pup’s neck. It’s covered in diamonds, which I have no doubt are real, and his name is sewn into the expensive leather with a tag hanging from it with a number I don’t recognize.
“You got my dog a collar?” I question, getting to my feet as Alistair steps closer. What is it with them invading my personal space? I don’t move back, even though I should.
“He needed one.” He shrugs and grins down at Mischief. “Didn’t you, buddy? Now that Mommy is home, shall we go?” Mischief barks and wags like he’s responding.
“Go? Go where?” I ask.
