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The other Belladonnas and I would’ve happily killed the patriarchs. Why did it feel wrong for Xander to wire a bomb that did just that?
Gavin Crude didn’t care about collateral damage. It was different for Xander to put that power of killing into his hands.
That was what I told myself as I made my way downstairs.
“What’s wrong, little bird?” Dominic called to me from one of the living rooms.
I stepped inside. There was a fire burning merrily in the fireplace, and Dominic tucked a bookmark into his book. He looked larger than life and slightly unreal, sprawled back on the big couch. In the house, he wore a t-shirt that hugged his broad biceps and rode up enough to expose the little bit of ink that Dominic wore. I wanted to get another look at his tattoos, now that I could focus on something besides the pounding need between us.
I went to sit on the couch, but he grabbed me and pulled me into his lap. I let him, finding myself comfortable on his muscular thighs, and as his arm circled my waist, I reached for his book.
“I’m surprised you use a bookmark,” I said, looking at the cover to see what he was reading.
“I’m a thug, not a monster.”
“I don’t think any of you are just thugs,” I said, still bothered by Xander’s activities and more bothered that I didn’t know why I cared.
Dominic scoffed. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
I slipped off his lap to look around the many bookcases that spanned the deep blue walls. Dominic was sprawled on the couch, but behind him were enormous windows that let in soft, golden light, and a wide window seat. Aiden’s home looked like something out of the books I read when I was a kid. Like the kind of home I’d fantasized about.
I pulled out a book and joined him. Dominic held his arm out to me as he sprawled back on the couch, and I curled into his side. The two of us read silently, but the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his muscular body against mine lulled me into a sense of tranquility.
That lasted until Aiden arrived home.
Aiden stepped into the room, his dark hair tousled and a tired look written across his face.
As soon as he saw Dominic and I curled up together, his eyes widened as if he’d just had a shot of pure caffeine.
“You two look comfortable,” he said.
“This is Selena’s home,” Dominic reminded him. “She’s your fiancée.”
“She is indeed,” Aiden said. “And we should be seen together, given the… surprisingly abrupt nature of our relationship.” To me, he said curtly, “Get dressed.”
I pulled lazily away from Dominic. I should’ve been delighted to see the seeds of jealousy and discord growing between them, making them easier to manipulate. But instead, it ignited a burn in my stomach, a sense of something wrong.
I still leaned over and kissed Dominic’s cheek before I rose. I handed my book to Aiden on my way out of the room. “Here. It’s a romance. You seem to need to learn just what a woman wants.”
“I promise you, Selena, I know just what you need.” Aiden turned and nestled the book back into the shelf. “And I already read every book in this house.”
I walked up the stairs instead of answering.
A while later, showered and dressed in another of the beautiful dresses that now hung in my closet—though I hadn’t asked for any of them—I knocked on the door to Aiden’s room to tell him I was ready.
He swung the door open, dressed only in a towel around his waist, his dark hair damp. The colorful tattoos that wound across his leanly muscled chest and powerful arms drew my gaze, and I didn’t try to hide the effect he had on me.
Aiden Crude might’ve been a controlling dickhead and a criminal, but he was beautiful to look at.
“I’m ready,” I said.
He nodded, clearly not interested in discussing whatever had kept him busy from the time he issued me orders until I showed up at his room. I glanced around his room, which was pristine, filled with antique furniture with elegantly carved lines and dark, beautiful wood. A framed photo of him and a woman I assumed was his mother was on his nightstand; she beamed out of the photo, her dark hair flying in the breeze, her arms tight around her son as if she would protect him from the world.
“Your mom was pretty.”
He nodded as he emerged from his walk-in closet, carrying a gray suit along with a crisp black button-down shirt. I thought he wasn’t going to say a word about his mother, that topic too sensitive, but then he said, “I think she would’ve liked you.”
“Oh?”
