Mackenzie is off-limits.
Scarlett is off-limits.
Whoever the fuck she is—She. Is. Off. Limits.
I narrow my gaze, focusing intently on each of the guys. Marcus has his arms crossed, scowling at me. Zach is helping Trent stand upright, patting him on the back as though he’s a fighter who just lost in the ring and needs a pick-me-up. Vincent remains seated on the couch, just as he was when I first walked in. He’s sipping from a crystal tumbler, watching with a bored expression.
“She’s off-limits. I don’t care if it’s against the rules. I don’t care if you don’t like it. Fuck with her, and we’re going to have problems. We clear?”
“When the fuck did you become top dog?” The contempt in Zach’s voice can’t be missed.
I narrow my gaze, grinding my back teeth together to stave off the anger surging through my body. Taking a threatening step forward, I keep my voice low and even.
“I’ve always been top dog, and I’ve always been the one in charge. Let’s not forget that. You all came to me, remember? I fixed your problems, and now, you’ll do whatever the fuck I say because I’m in charge.”
The silence that ensues is almost stifling.
Remaining unbothered by their anger, I cross the floor toward the bar and make myself a drink. Popping the button loose on my tux, I take a seat on the open chaise across from them, waiting to see who will speak up next.
“We had a plan, Seb. You gave us your word.” It’s Vincent this time, just barely restraining himself.
I lean back against the leather, making a show of crossing my ankle over my knee. I take a long, hearty sip from the tumbler and pause, just to bring my next words home.
“You still have my word. But this little game is mine to play, and if you guys don’t like it”—I make a show of looking them all in the eyes—“then there’s the fucking door.”
Slowly, my words sink in, and the tension in the room dissipates. Marcus takes a seat on the chaise next to me, and Zach calls one of the security guards on the lower level who’s ready to bring a slew of wanting women up for the night. The only one who is still stewing in the corner is Trent. He’s openly glaring at me, even after the women are brought up. A pair take a seat on each side of him; one woman kisses his neck, and the other strokes him through his slacks.
I raise my near empty tumbler toward him in cheers, which only serves to piss him off more. He grips both women aggressively and drags them down the hall toward one of the open rooms. Marcus stands beside me with a gorgeous, billowy redhead attached to his side. He pauses just before departing.
“You’re poking a bear with Trent. I’m telling you, man,” Marcus warns.
I shrug. “He’ll learn his place. Eventually.”
Marcus shakes his head, humor lighting his features, but even so, I still see the worry in his eyes. “Find anyone down there who caught your eye?” he asks, referring to the women down in the club I’d consider bringing up here to fuck. I shake my head, making no move to get up.
“Not yet.”
Little does he know, only one woman has caught my eye and been able to keep it, and said woman is back at my resort.
The next morning, I wake to light shining in through the suite windows. I was so upset last night I forgot to draw the curtains. I decided after what happened, space would do Baz and me wonders.
I need time to think, time to get my head back on straight because it seems whenever I’m around Baz for too long, I start to forget why I’m truly here. I start to believe what we have is real, and that can’t be true. Because if it is? That would make me a liar and a failure, and I refuse to be either.
After showering, I head straight for the steel safe in my suite. Entering the code, I pull out the paperwork and my laptop inside. My hair is still dripping as I scatter everything out across the bed, trying to make sense of it all. I have articles from my sister’s death, the botched court proceeding that followed, and everything else in between. I didn’t learn anything new at the gala—nothing I could use against any of them. Raking my fingers through my hair in frustration, I nibble on my thumbnail. It’s a horrible habit I’ve had since I was a child.
Getting up from the bed, I start to pace. I need to try harder. I have to somehow patch up this issue with Baz and get him to willingly bring me around his friends. Then and only then will I be able to get them to change their minds about me.
Right now, I’m a threat. It’s obvious they don’t like the idea of Sebastian getting serious with a woman. That would threaten all their fun.
I suddenly stop my pacing and pick up the picture that brought me here. The one with the Savages. The only ones missing from the photo are Marcus and Baz. An idea suddenly takes form in my brain.
I wasn’t playing smart enough before.
But I am now. It’s time to play hardball.
Even though I probably should’ve spent the night up in the penthouse and waited for Baz, I dress quickly, hoping I’ll still be allowed up there. We didn’t leave things on the best of terms last night.
I just needed the night to clear my head and remember what I’m really doing here. I hope he’ll understand. With the dress from last night slung over my shoulder, I head to the top, using the fob he gave me, and instead of walking right in, I knock on the door.
For a second, I don’t think he’s there, and I start to deflate. My thoughts run awry as I try to think of where he could be. He left with Dan after dropping me off last night. Did he go somewhere with the rest of the guys?
I perk up when I hear heavy footfalls, and the door is suddenly opened, revealing a shirtless Baz, dressed only in a pair of luxurious looking drawstring pants. I can clearly see the imprint of his cock, and Jesus Christ, I’m back to square one all over again.
Quickly darting my gaze up to his, I clear my throat, tucking loose strands of hair behind my ear.
“Morning.” I rock on my feet anxiously when he doesn’t say anything. My heart is hammering in fear. Maybe last night really was the last straw. He has the pick of the litter; he doesn’t have to deal with my nonsense. “Thought I’d bring this back. Thank you again for yesterday.” I hold out the dress from last night, but he doesn’t take it. He just cocks his head to the side, watching me.
I heave a tired sigh. “Baz, please. I really am sorry about last night—”
“You still haven’t brought your stuff up.”
My brows slowly inch higher. “My stuff? Wait—what?”
“Was last night your answer?”
My eyes slowly widen with understanding. “No! God, no. I was just giving you space last night. Everything got so messed up. I didn’t want you to be angry with me, but it felt like you were.”
Baz sighs. He glances up at the ceiling for what I assume is strength and jerks his head over his shoulder. “Come on. There’s breakfast.”
Out on the balcony, the sun shines brightly. Beacons of light pour over the table and the spread of food. It smells heavenly, and on cue, my stomach growls embarrassingly loud.
I cough into my fist, trying to drown out the noise. “Expecting company?”
He takes the seat across from me, sliding a mug of freshly brewed coffee toward me. “Nope.”