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“Who says?” I shrug, scrunching my lips.
He barks a laugh, sharper than his customarily light one, while sliding off his stool, rounding the island to rinse his bowl, and sticking it in the dishwasher. “Five raging Noire brothers whom I consider close friends. Not happening.”
Ignoring his reasoning, I press. “She was checking you out too, and she needs a good man.” He chuckles, the sound holding the slightest hint of longing, so I push further. “She keeps going on dates with these losers and—”
“Does Axel know?” His brow creases.
Jealous?
“Yes, but—”
“Then, it’s handled, Freckles. Off-limits is off-limits. End of discussion.”
I smack the counter, irritated by his obstinacy.End of discussion. Who does he think he is? Wells?“Ty, you never date. None of you do.”
He tilts his head, mouth in a cocky scowl. “Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not happening. We don’t bring women to the house, and I have no interest in anything serious.”
Liam ambles in with an odd expression, gaze heavy on me like wet cement. And Gage strides along behind him, equally as off. I’d be annoyed they interrupted our conversation, but they seem as though they’ve both swallowed a secret.
“What’s wrong with the two of you?” I chirp.
Liam’s eyes widen as if I caught him with his dick out. He adjusts himself—not his dick, his face—usual smirk in place. “Nothing. Morning to you too, High Society.”
I glance at Ty, who I assumed would be laughing with me, but he’s scrolling on his phone, unaware of the bizarre vibe floating through the kitchen.
“Tell me what the hell is wrong with you,” I snap at all of them. “You’re freaking me out.”
Gage ruffles the plastic wrap on the cookies, glowering at Liam and then peering back at me. “Wells was looking for you, Ivy.” He stuffs a snickerdoodle in his mouth without any further explanation.
The three stand silently, staring at me, concern on their faces.Or maybe confusion?
I do need to find Wells because my stomach is suddenly knotted with that foreboding twinge from yesterday.
Strutting into his office, I find him chomping on a Tootsie Pop as though it’s public enemy number one. He squints one eye like a pirate upon my entrance, and now, I’m completely weirded out.
“What the hell is going on?” I bite out. “You’re all being freakishly bizarre.”
“Jesus Christ,” he hisses, popping out his mutilated sucker. “What did the morons do?”
I laugh, entertained by his exasperation. “Rough morning meeting?”
“Yes,” he sighs. Whatever stress he’s dealing with is evident in his gloomy features. My carefree man from yesterday is pained. He forces a smile. “I’m glad you’re here. Have a seat.”
“You’re scaring me,” I whisper, my gut screaming in apprehension.
“Don’t be nervous. I want to discuss some things. No sense in waiting until after Thanksgiving.”
My heart races; my throat dries.This is it.
I roll my lips in anticipation as he leans forward, studying my movements.
“Ivy, it’s you and me. No matter what you’re feeling, I’ve got you. Okay, baby?”
I nod. “Okay.”
He reclines back into his chair, tossing his chewed lollipop stick into the trash. “It’s hard to know where to begin, so let’s start withwhat we spoke about at the fire the other night. Do you remember that one of the five groups in KORT is The Order?”
“Yes.” I swallow, rubbing my sweaty palms over my pants to dry them and let the texture ground me.
