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“I just bet you do,” I say with attitude. I enjoyed that banter, but the ‘little one’ thing is annoying. We all know I’m little. Let’s move along, please.
When I turn around with a pout, I see Savage’s eyes trained on me. His expression is unreadable, so I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I look down at myself to see if it’s my clothes he has an issue with, but it’s the same thing I had on earlier. My face heats because I can still feel his eyes on me. He’s intimidating and his eyes are fucking frosty, so I keep my head down. “What?”
“Not the prettiest, am I?” he asks, tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Huh?” I respond brilliantly, still not making eye contact, for fear that I’ll cower from his dark stare.
“I know I look scary, but you don’t have to be afraid of me.” My head snaps up at him and I see that regardless of what he’s said, his eyes are not kind. Looking at me like that, there’s plenty reason to be afraid of him. Despite what he thinks, it has nothing to do with his scars.
Steeling my spine, I shake my head, look him in the eye—which is difficult—and start to say something, but I’m cut off by the phone on his desk beeping. A tinny, feminine voice filling the office. “Mr. Benavelli, Mark is here with the files you requested.”
Savage growls and I slink back and hide my erection. I’ve never been scared and turned on at the same time.
He jabs his finger on the phone and says in an angry voice, “Send him in. And don’t bother me again. I told you I’m offline for the rest of the day.”
“Y-yes, sir. S-sorry to bother you.” My heart goes out to the poor woman. He doesn’t have to mistreat her because he has a chip on his shoulder.
“Fucking rude,” I remark in a low voice, startling myself, because holy shit, this man is dangerous!
Those dark, cold eyes turn on me, and he growls again. He sure loves growling. Wonder if he’ll do it when I’m sucking him off. God, I hope so. What the fuck am I thinking? Am I crazy for thinking that? One hundred percent.
“What the fuck did you just say?” His tone deflates my erection.
I don’t have a death wish, but I don’t like people talking to me the way he is. Fuck him. He might be a scary son of a bitch, but he doesn’t have to be mean. “I said you’re fucking rude. Obviously, she’s doing her job. She said he has the filesyouasked for.” I jab my finger in his direction. “Don’t fault her because someone is followingyourdirections.”
His face reddens and he looks ready to explode. Whatever. I don’t regret calling him out. I hate bullies. They irritate the fuck out of me, and I can tell by how comfortable he is talking like that no one has ever called him on it.
The knock on the door interrupts what I’m sure would be a brilliant and scathing retort. “Enter,” he bellows, making me jump.
The man—Mark, I’m assuming—hurries in and slides past me. He glances at me, and I give him a small smile. He returns it, then puts the files on the desk. “This is from the clothing store app. They’ve asked for a meeting in the next three months after they get their quarterly reports back. Then they can renew their contract.”
Savage looks over at me, something glinting in his eyes that he quickly covers. “Very good.” Mark’s eyes go wide, and he scurries from the office, probably not used to getting the slightest recognition for his work.
For the next hour, Savage works, Quin and Michael don’t move from the door, and I’m bored. I stand and move around the office, ending up by the window. Staring at the street, I wonder if Savage ever enjoys this gorgeous view. He doesn’t look like he enjoys a lot of things, so that’s probably a no.
When I turn around, I find Savage’s eyes on me. They snap up to my face and I realize he was looking at my ass again. Yes, it’s a real bubble butt that sticks out and is perfectly round. Men like Savage are a sucker for a round ass they can put their dicks between. I smirk, but don’t call him out on it, because I know I have a good ass. Whowouldn’tstare at it? I just go sit back down and look him in the eye. It’s hard because they’re socold.
Scrambling around for something to say, I ask, “Can I see my brother?”
Savage looks me over and licks his lips. The action gives me a flutter in my belly, hoping it’s because he likes what he sees, not because his lips are dry. “Let’s go now. I’m done here.”
He stands and I notice anew how much taller than me he is. Not as tall as Quin, but bigger than him. Savage’s shoulders are broad and his arms are thick. His chest is nicely built, flowing down to what can only be spectacularly defined abs that taper down to narrow hips. He sees me sizing him up and gives me a flat look. I shrug. He’s hot as fuck. Why can’t I look?
We leave the building and Michael gets in the driver’s seat, Savage and I slide in the back and Quin disappears somewhere.
The drive to a shipping yard is short and silent. I’m nervous to see Cris. Will he be mad that I interfered? That’s one thing he’s been telling me for years—stay out of his business and stay on the legal side of things. But he was missing and I did what I had to do.
Savage waits in the car while Michael and I walk to a small side building. Michael steps inside first, and I’m practically on his heels.
The building is nothing but an open room with a desk, a chair, and a closet in the back. Michael opens the closet and drags out my bound and gagged brother, Cris’s face red with anger. I give Michael a hard look and he simply shrugs, unfazed. I start towards him, but Michael pegs me with a look of his own, stopping me in my tracks, and shoves Cris down in the chair. Michael rips the tape from his mouth and Cris curses, then gives him a withering look. Michael shows no sign that he gives a fuck as he steps back.
Cris curls his lip up at me and sneers, “What are you doing here?” His face is swollen in some areas, his hair a tangled mess with most escaping from his hair tie, but his eyes bore into me how they always do—with barely contained contempt. You would think he would be happy to see me since he’s been locked in a fucking closet for a night and some of the day.
Struggling to keep the hurt off my face, I sit on the edge of the desk close to him. “I talked to Mr. Benavelli.” Cris’s face turns red, but not with anger this time. It’s almost like he’s embarrassed about what he did, which is a first. Only took me exchanging my life and body for a year for him to be contrite. “He’s going to let me work for him in exchange for your freedom.”
Cris looks surprised, like he didn’t think I would trade myself—mywork—for him, something I know he wouldn’t do for me. Why do I love this guy again? Fucking familial connections are the worst sometimes. “Work? Doing what?” he asks suspiciously.
I shrug and look away. He can always read my face and he’ll know I’m keeping something from him. And, like the sucker I am, I’ll end up telling him I agreed to the terms of sucking a cock a few times a week for a year. I mean, those aren’t bad terms, but this is still my older brother. I can’t tell him that. “He hasn’t told me yet. I told him I’m in tech, so maybe he has something for me to do there.” I absolutely didnottell him that, but Cris will never find out if I have anything to do with it.
