“Everything on the list appears to be here except…”
I wait until the tension reaches its boiling point, and then I curve a brow, wordlessly announcing I’m not speaking another word until I’m given something in return for my efforts.
Eight breaks the intense stare down first. “Aight. I’ll bite.” He rubs his hands together while shuffling from foot to foot. “We’ve misplaced something. We’re of the belief you have it.” After gesturing his hand between Nikolai and himself, he nudges his head to Nero. “Nero believes differently.”
I appreciate both his honesty and belief that Nero has faith in me, but it doesn’t alter the facts.
I’m being eyeballed as if I am the criminal half of our duo.
“How long ago did your…stuffgo missing?” I want to ask how long I’ve been under surveillance, but it is less heart-breaking this way.
It is a fight not to fold in two when Nikolai answers, “Four days ago.”
“Which was a good twelve monthsafterNero purchased the house across the street from you so he could make out he isn’t mowing another man’s turf by stroking his cock to his missus from afar.” Eight’s lips snatch shut when Nero growls. “What? I thought she knew.” He swallows harshly before shifting his eyes to me. “How do you think he changed so fast tonight? Tempy wasn’t giving up his shirt for anything, even with it reeking of sweat, and the winds are too cold to go shirtless on a motorcycle, so he popped home for two seconds to get dressed, most likely for the first time in days, while you rustled up a pair of fitted jeans from the back of your closet.”
I can’t fight the urge to bend for a second longer.
He’s been watching us.
Does that mean he saw us…
I can’t say it.
I refuse.
I’m also devastated by what his confession could mean. I thought Nero was attracted to me because he saw past the stigma of being with a plus-size woman. I had no clue he was only sniffing around to find the goods his boss believes I stole.
I’ve never felt more stupid.
“Could you make it sound any more perverted, fuckface?” Nero snaps out, his fury undeniable. “He was watching you, butterfly. But only because I asked him to keep an eye on you. I had to know you were safe when I wasn’t there. But he only had access to the cameras monitoring the outside of your home. He didn’t have access to anything behind closed doors. I’d kill him before I’d ever let him see you like that.”
I want to believe him, but four plus four doesn’t equal ten.
“Then how does he know Tempy claimed your shirt?”
Eight answers before Nero can. “She dragged it onto the patio this afternoon so she could nestle with it next to the firepit and in the low-hanging sun.”
Oh.I’m still angry, but Tempy loves heat, and the temperature in our home cooled drastically when Nero took his call, so his excuse is believable.
There’s just one thing that doesn’t make sense.
“What’s your excuse for knowing I wrestled my jeans out of the back of my closet?”
Now, I’m not the only one angry. Nero looks furious, and his I’m-going-to-kill-you stare has Eight speaking at the speed of sound. “Her ex is a douche. He’s been giving her shit all week. When I shut him up with my fists, the front of his pants got a little stained. I figured I’d replace them with a pair from across the street, forgetting she had burned all his belongings, including his ugly-ass suits.” He shifts on his feet to face me. “I saved myself a trip to the store by compromising with a pair of jeans I found in the back of your closet.” His smile is unexpected considering the heat of our exchange. “For someone who thinks meat on bones is for dogs, your husband’s new threads are an extremely snug fit.”
“Soon to beex-husband,” Nero chimes in, not wanting anyone to confuse his dislike of cheaters.
As I drift my eyes between three sets, I suck in some big breaths. There’s too much to take in. I’m the most confused I’ve ever been, but somehow, also curious.
“Don’t,” I snap out, pulling away when Nero attempts to bring me out of my stupor state with touch.
I’ll never work through my confusion with that man’s hands on me, and I’m suddenly sickened by the idea instead of hopeful.
Once I’ve sucked in a lung-filling breath, attempting to weaken some of the fog in my head, I twist to face Nikolai, the man I’m reasonably sure is responsible for Nero’s resurrection in my life.
“I don’t have your…stuff. Everything that was in my warehouse is here…” I pause again. This time, more from the sudden realization not everything Shiloh and I counted during stock take is present on the inventory list. “Except the commercial bags of flour I purchased for your wedding. Justine wanted the guests served freshly made Prizohkis. They require alotof flour.”
“Flour?” Nikolai asks, his brows pulled together. “That’s all that is missing from your inventory. Just flour?”
