by S. M. Soto
“What’s going on?” Garrett’s voice travels across the expanse of the gym, effectively ruining the moment. My stomach bottoms out and my heart freezes. Creed slowly steps away, as cool as a cucumber.
Picking up his bag, he walks past my brother with a simple, “She wants to learn self-defense,” then he’s gone. My eyes linger on Creed’s broad shoulders and back as he slips out of sight. I swallow thickly, and work to get my breathing under control so Garrett doesn’t ask too many questions.
“Sophia?” My brother prompts with an undecipherable look on his face.
“It’s true. I want to learn self-defense.” I somehow manage to say. His brows furrow, and his face slackens.
“Why didn’t you come to me?” There’s a note of sadness in there. I roll my eyes playfully at Garrett, trying to make light of the situation. With my hand propped on my hip I ask, “Would you have said yes?”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, Garrett rakes a hand over his head, “Probably not. I’m sorry, Soph, but I just don’t think you’re ready.”
“Garrett, there will never be a perfect time, but wouldn’t you feel a whole lot better if I knew how to protect myself?”
I see the indecision written all over his face. It wars with every fiber of his being, but I see the moment I win. His shoulders slump, and he nods his head toward the mat.
“C’mon. Let’s get started.”
This isn’t what I came here for by any means, but now that I think about it, I’d like to know how to protect myself. I can’t help but wonder how much training like this could’ve protected me while I was taken. It’s one of those irritating thoughts that will haunt me forever.
THE HOUSE SLOWLY RISES WITH noise as the team of guys filter in. They’re finally coming back from their assignment today, and I can’t tell how I feel about it. On one hand, it’s comforting being surrounded by trained killers who can eliminate any potential threat but being around them also reminds me of those nine months of my life that I lost at the hands of those vile men. Being around so many men still frightens me, and deep down, I worry it will never go away. That fear. It’s so ingrained in my mind, body and soul, I can’t help but feel tainted. All I can hope to do is take it day by day and pray that someday the toxicity will ease.
I’ve had one full day of training with Garrett since he’s been back, and Creed has pretty much been MIA since the gym incident. I don’t fully understand what happened in there, but what I do know is that I got to him, even if he won’t admit it. I felt it in the air around us. For one small second, he wasn’t just cold and heartless, he was my protector and a man that had the capacity to feel. I just need to make him see it. That in itself is almost an impossible feat. I may not know much about Creed, but from what I can tell, he’s stubborn and prideful which is never an endearing combination.
I climb up the stairs from the kitchen, careful not to spill the scalding hot mug of tea in my hands. With Garrett out with his “friend” again, I decided I’d rest in the sitting room, and watch the gas lit fire. It may not be as great as looking at a real fire, hearing the crackling of the wood, or smelling the burnt logs, but at least it’s something.
Just as I pass my room in the hallway, I freeze in front of my brother’s bedroom door when I hear a thump of movement inside. My face crumples and I narrow my eyes on his door that’s shut firmly.
There’s no way that can be Garrett, right? He just left. He can’t already be home. Can he?
My heart lurches and a trickle of sweat travels down my spine when I see movement underneath his door. Shadows move across the floor and there’s the unmistakable sound of drawers closing.
Could the mole be in there, searching through my brother’s stuff?
Without really thinking it through, I reach out and place my palm around the knob and turn slowly. When I push the door open my mouth goes dry and my eyes widen.
“Shit!” Jose whirls with a surprised expression on his face. He has a stack of papers in one hand, and one of my brother’s drawers is hanging wide open, like he was sifting through his private documents, looking for something. “Dios Mio, Sophia. You scared the fuck out of me. I think I just about shit out my heart.” Jose jokes as he sets the papers back down on Garrett’s desk and closes the drawer slowly.
My sweaty palm tightens around the mug of tea in my hand as I stare down Jose, waiting for him to explain himself. Silence stretches between us, and his jaw tics as I stand there, glaring at him through narrowed slits.
“What were you doing in here?”
I try to keep the suspicion out of my tone just in case he is the mole. Creed specifically said we needed to keep this quiet, on the low. If I arise suspicion in Jose, Creed and Garrett may never be able to stop him.
Jose shrugs his shoulders noncommittally, plying me with a smirk. “Nothing really. He asked me to look for some papers earlier, and your brother is such a fucking pig, I had to dig through all his shit to find what I needed.”
Alarm bells go off inside my head as my eyes dart around my brother’s spotless room. If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that my brother is nothing like a pig, if anything, he’s the exact opposite. He’s always been so OCD about his space and keeping it clean. Fear claws its way up my throat as I stare at Jose.
He’s the mole. He has to be.
“And did you find what you were looking for?” I croak out, afraid of stepping over that invisible boundary that can possibly get me killed by this man. If he’s the mole, he’d do anything to get rid of someone that is onto him, and that includes me. I need to tread carefully.
“No, I didn’t.” He plies me with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll see you around, Mariposa,” Jose says as he brushes past me, out of Garrett’s room. My heart thrashes wildly in my chest long after he’s left the room.
I finally get a hold of myself and force my feet to move. Flicking off the light switch, I close the door softly behind me and try not to let my fear cloud my rational thought.
Maybe Jose was telling the truth. It doesn’t sound too far-fetched. If he was the mole, there’s no way he’d risk being caught by rummaging through my brother’s stuff right now. Would he?
I shake all thoughts of Jose out of my mind and head back to my original destination—the sitting room.
Gripping the cup of tea in my hands, I stare at the roaring flames of the fire, my eyes fixated on the glass pebbles beneath the flames. With my back resting against the couch in the sitting room, I close my eyes and listen to the silence around me. The only sounds are that of my breathing and the roaring of the fire behind the glass.
I hear a creak in the floorboard and hope blooms in my chest as I wait to peel my eyes open, hoping to see Creed.
“Meditating?”
My body sags against the couch in defeat at the sound of Finlay’s voice. I keep my eyes shut and take a sip of the orange citrus tea Mera brewed before she headed off to bed earlier and before I had the strange encounter with Jose.
“Something like that,” I finally say, not really in the mood for conversation with anyone other than Creed. There’s so much I want to say. So much I need to tell him. That’s not even including my new theory on Jose.
Every night around this time, he’s usually here in the sitting room, standing by the window. But tonight, he’s nowhere to be found, leaving me alone, and now, in the company of Finlay.
“You seem sad, love,” Fin says, plopping down on the couch next to me. I lift one shoulder in a helpless shrug, cocking my head to look at him.
“Maybe,” I say on a sigh. “I don’t really know what I am anymore,” I mumble, dropping my gaze down to the mug cradled in my hands. Finlay scoots closer to me, wrapping his thick arm around my shoulder.
“Talk to me, love. What’s going on up here?” He says, taping my temple lightly. I force a smile for his sake.
“I guess I’m just feeling overwhelmed. I miss my old life. My old friends and coworkers. Everything here just feels�
�foreign. Like I’m out of place, you know?” He nods his head ever so slightly. “It doesn’t help that I don’t know what’s going on here half the time. Garrett is so secretive about everything. I feel like I’m constantly left in the dark, with no permission to do anything but stay locked in here.” I blow out an exasperated sigh.
“He doesn’t talk to you about his missions? Or anything else regarding this place?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, assessing me.
“Not a damn word.”
I drop my head back onto the cushion and stare up at the ceiling. For a second, I almost forget Finlay is still here, sitting next to me. When his fingers brush along my shoulder, I stiffen, but brush it off, not wanting to act awkward with Fin—the only friend I have here.
“I promise, Sophia. Things will get better. Just have some faith.”
My brows pinch together as I lift my head toward him. He grins down at me with that boyish gleam in his eye forcing me to smile.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks Fin, for the…pep-talk?”
He chuckles, standing to his feet. “Think of this as one of many conversations between close friends.”
“Right,” I say, finally cracking a genuine smile. “How old are you by the way? Sometimes I get the feeling you’re still a kid at heart.”
Fin laughs. “Always. And if you must know, I’m thirty-five.”
“Wow. I did not expect that. Can I call you old man now?” I tease prompting him to roll his eyes.
“Well, looks like that’s my cue to leave,” he says in jest. “Goodnight, love.”
“Night, Fin.”
After Finlay left, I should’ve walked back to my room too, getting ready for bed, but like the fool I am, I hoped he would come. It was irrational, waiting around for a man in the hopes he would talk to me and show me a minuscule amount of decency. I couldn’t wrap my head around my feelings for Creed. I should loathe him and steer clear of him, but instead I’m doing the exact opposite.
At first, I thought it had something to do with the whole savior complex. Was I so attracted and drawn to him because he saved my life? The simple answer: No. If that was the case, I would’ve fallen for Finlay—the sweet and charming Englishman who makes it his mission to keep a smile on my face. He was there at the mansion when everything went down, so why don’t I feel anything for him like I do Creed? Why was I so inherently attracted to a man that screamed dangerous? Finlay doesn’t elicit the same emotions and feelings as Creed does. He’s a friend, a really good friend, but that’s all he’ll ever be. There’s no chemistry there like there is with Creed, and I hate it.
Why am I so fucked up?
For as long as I can, I stay up contemplating the state of my sanity, waiting for him to eventually show. My eyes grow heavy as I rest on the couch in the sitting room, trying to hold out a while longer. Like my eyelids weigh a hundred pounds, I struggle to keep them open, but it doesn’t work. Slowly, my lids flutter closed, and a wave of peaceful sleep consumes my body.
I come to with the sensation of arms wrapped around me. A familiar clean and woodsy scent infiltrates my senses, prompting my eyes to flutter open. Slowly, they adjust to the dim lighting of the hall, until finally, they drift up toward the muscular torso holding me. Creed’s dark, wayward hair curls around his ears, as he effortlessly carries me down the dimly lit hall toward my bedroom.
With his arms wrapped around me, carrying me bridal style, I flash back to the first time he’d ever held me. The night of the auction. I take my time, allowing my eyes to roam over his features from this angle, without his knowledge. His jaw is sharp and dusted in day old scruff that has me itching to run my fingers over it. A wide grin threatens to spread across my lips like gasoline on fire, so I nestle my head into his shoulder, feigning sleep. I inhale his intoxicating scent and allow myself this small moment to enjoy him in peace, without the fear of being chewed out. Every piece of him that isn’t mine to enjoy, I revel in. The feel of his strong arms wrapped around me, his strong body pressed flush against mine—it’s everything and so much more.
Creed gently deposits me onto my bed, covering my body with the sheets. I focus on keeping my breathing even and I try like hell to keep my eyes closed so he doesn’t know I’m awake. I feel the heat of his body slowly slip away and sadness engulfs me. I strain to listen to his retreating footsteps and the closing of the door, but I don’t hear anything. My heart stutters to a screeching halt, and my breathing stops all together when I feel his hand trace the hair along my temple. He blows out a deep sigh, and then his touch is gone.
Once I hear the click of my bedroom door I finally inhale a deep shuttering breath. My chest expands and like a swarm of volatile bees, my stomach roars wildly at the tingling sensation along my temple where Creed touched me. Shakily, I trace where his fingers just were, and a serene smile materializes on my face.
For the first time, I fall asleep with a smile on my face and the horrifying memories I dread every night surprisingly never come.
I TRY TO MAKE MYSELF busy in the kitchen but it’s nearly impossible to ignore the weight of his stare at my back. It sears into me, setting my body aflame with awareness.
I haven’t said a word to him about last night—how he safely tucked me into bed. He’d probably deny it anyway or come up with some lame excuse as to why he carried me to bed and caressed my hair. It’s almost as if I can still feel his touch ghosting along my skin, sending a chill down my spine. If that was just one small touch from the man, I can’t imagine what something bigger would do to me.
I focus intently on slicing the carrots, too chicken-shit to turn around and face him. Creed and a few of the guys are lingering in the kitchen now that the whole team is back. Even in a house filled with men, how is it that Creed is the only one I’m aware of? My body reacts to his in a primal way. He’s everywhere, even when he’s not physically near me. I can always feel him and his ever-demanding presence. It shifts the very molecules in the air around me, tilting my world off its axis. It’s almost as if my entire being gravitates toward him.
Shaking my head ever so slightly, I cut a rectangle of foil for the casserole and startle at the sound of the cheery voice in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Did you miss me, love?” Finlay’s voice rings throughout the expanse of the kitchen. My overworked heart finally settles, and I huff out a laugh of breath at his unexpected presence, bringing a slow smile to my face. “No need to be shy. I won’t lie and say I didn’t miss your sweet face,” he says, with a wink for show. He leans against the doorframe of the kitchen, with his arms crossed over his chest. His words make me flush an indecent shade of red.
My eyes automatically drift toward Creed who’s leaning against the wall watching my conversation with Finlay. His face is void of any emotion, the only indication of his mood is the slight tick in his jaw. Suddenly, his eyes narrow threateningly, as he glares at an oblivious Finlay. I can only pray Fin will keep any other flirtatious comments to himself before things get more awkward.
Creed’s eyes drift to mine, and I swallow thickly. They burn with unnamed emotions, but the one that is most prominent is anger. It’s not the same kind of volatile anger I saw in the gym a few days ago. No, this anger is different. It detonates in the very air around us, threatening to turn this kitchen into an inferno. I open my mouth to say something, calm the turbulent waters, but before I can, Finlay loops his arm around my shoulders and pulls me away. As we slip out of the kitchen, I’m all too aware of Creed’s furious gaze pinned on our backs.
Fin rambles on and on about this and that, but I’m unable to pay attention. Instead, my mind is still focused on Creed, wondering why the hell he would be angry at me for talking to Finlay. He’s just a friend—the only guy here with an actual sense of humor that puts me at ease. I’m not interested in Finlay, not in the least. I know his playful flirting attitude is just part of his personality which is probably one of the many reasons why my brother can’t stand him. I can definitely see why Creed
and my brother get along so well, they’re so much alike. They both have that detached air around them, so cold and indifferent. The only difference between the two, is I know there’s a better side to Garrett, a happier carefree side. I’ve witnessed it as a child and an adult. As for Creed? I’m not so sure.
“Did you manage well? Get a good night’s rest after our talk?”
“Yeah, I did. Thank you,” I say with a smile in my voice, for reasons he doesn’t know.
“I can’t imagine it was easy for you when your brother was gone with us on our last assignment. I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with all this.”
My brows dip as I turn to look up at Finlay. There’s a hint of worry in his tone that makes me realize what a good guy he is. How the hell did he end up with this as his profession?
“I did okay under the circumstances.” I shrug noncommittally. “It was hard at first. I think I’ve gotten so used to having him around that those few days I felt a little lost. Especially in this…place. But on the brighter side, I was finally allowed to go outside.”
A wide, boyish grin spreads across Fin’s face. “Now that you mention it, you do look sun-kissed. I couldn’t tell last night, but now I see it. The color looks good on you. It’s healthy.”
I smile and nod my head in agreement. “It feels good. I feel good.”
“All right, love, I have some work to catch up on, and some unpacking to do. Save me a seat at dinner, will ya?”
He waggles his brows making me laugh. I nod my head, unable to contain my smile.
“You got it.”
With that, we part ways and I head up the stairs toward my room to get cleaned up before heading down for dinner. My hair and skin smells of the food Mera and I prepped for the night. It’s the guys’ first big meal since coming home from their assignment. Apparently, they got in late last night, and Finlay happened to stumble across me in the sitting room. That information only caused more suspicion against Jose to arise. If they all just got in and Garrett was out with his “friend” how the hell would he have had time to tell Jose to search through his things? Nothing was making sense or adding up. There were too many secrets being kept in this place and quite honestly, I’m sick and tired of it.
