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My head falls to the side, resting on Mica’s chest, and I breathe in his masculine scent. “Mmm, you smell good,” I whisper, and shiver as we step into their flat. It’s chilly here, compared to the hall.
“Here, drink this.” Linc places a glass of water to my lips. I take a sip, but he shakes his head. “All of it, Belle. Now.”
I grin at his demand, sniggering at how he’s always so bossy, but do as he says anyway. I have to admit, it feels good. He makes me drink another full glass, before nodding once, and disappearing.
Kelly steps up, kisses my forehead, and whispers goodnight. Mica never once puts me down.
He carries me to the guest room, and lays me on my bed, before moving around my room. I lie still, not watching him out of fear that the movement will cause the room to spin.
“Here,” Mica says, helping me to sit up. He pulls a large, baggy shirt over my head and pushes my feet into pj bottoms, before sliding them up my legs. He helps me get them up and over my hips and then aids me in removing my dress. I flop back onto the bed and pile into the fluff of blankets.
“Thank you,” I whisper into my pillow. Mica chuckles and Kelly places a bottle of water and some Tylenol on the nightstand.
“Sweet dreams, Belle.” He kisses me softly on the forehead.
It’s the last thing I hear before I slip into sweet unconsciousness.
* * *
I’m jolted out of my sleep by raised voices, and it takes me a moment to work out where I am and what’s going on.
“You don’t have a fucking choice! These clients paid, signed a contract! Get to the fucking shop, or that money comes out of your paycheck, and I’ll make sure the clients know you’re the ones who backed out!”
The sound of Johnny screaming right outside the guest bedroom door causes my booze fogged brain to throb. At least I’m not nauseous. I throw my hand over my eyes and take a deep breath. I don’t know when he turned into this raging, fucking cocknose, but when we were little, Johnny was so different. He was kind and caring. He looked out for me and protected me. Now he’s a womanizing douche nugget who drinks like a damn pirate, and I can barely tolerate him when I’m halfway across the country. Being in the same flat as him is driving me insane. I wish he was the old Johnny again, the one I was proud to claim as my big brother.
How did he ever convince the other three to move in with him? The guys stress that they’re not friends, but why would you live with someone you don’t like? It doesn’t make sense to me.
The guest room door flies open with such force that it hits the wall behind and bounces back. A very angry Johnny stomps in. I yelp, not having expected him to barge in, and he sneers at me.
“Since my business partners have decided they’ll be moving on, they have some extra work to do today. I’m sure you’ll find some way to entertain yourself while they’re gone.” Johnny sneers, and I flop back on the bed.
“Sure,” is the only response I can muster. I’m too hungover to fight the little shit weasel right now. Johnny storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and I just roll over. He can have his tantrum. Whatever is going on with him, I don't want any part of it. When my big brother decides he’s ready to be a decent human being again, he’ll know where to find me.
A few minutes later, just as I’m contemplating dozing back off to sleep for a bit, there’s a soft knock on the door that definitely isn’t from Johnny.
“Come in,” I call, and Mica enters.
“So, Linc and Kelly have to head to the shop for a while. You wanna hang with me?” he asks, and I sit up, smiling brightly.
“Sure!” I agree, which perks him right up.
“Sweet. I’ll go get ready!” he says cheerily, and I hop up to get ready myself, suddenly not feeling so awful after all.
After a long, luxurious shower which has me feeling semi-human again, I choose a pair of high-waisted, cut-off, blue, jean shorts, and a tight-fitting, white, strapless top. I slip on my black Vans before skipping out of the room and into the hall.
The sight of Mica in his black board shorts and blue tank top makes my mouth go dry. He looks good. His hair is still wet from his shower, and I shake my head. These three shouldn’t be allowed to be in the same room together. Imagine all the women worldwide who get wet just looking at their abs and ink.
Mica flexes, reaching for a cup that’s just out of reach, and I tilt my head sideways. Someone get a bucket for my drool.
“Hey, beautiful. I’m just getting us some water for the ride,” Mica says. I blink.
“Ride?”
Mica grins mischievously, and I lift a brow. Alright then.
I follow him out to the garage, where a beautiful classic motorcycle sits in a corner spot beside some seriously fancy cars. It’s a deep, cherry red with black and chrome accents and a Triumph logo on it.
Mica pops the trunk of the Audi in the spot next to the bike, pulls out two open-faced helmets, and hands one to me. I stare at it for a moment and then laugh nervously.
