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Little Storm?”
I know the feeling, Little Storm. No need to fight it.
The buildup is so often the demise. But Ivy Kingston has shattered that theory. So worth the wait.
A broad smile splits my face because I know my Little Storm better than she knows herself.
“We’ll be business partners, but to the world, you’ll be mine.” My words bring a frown to her face before she can correct it. Fantastic. Let the cravings begin.
Other than the lingering blanket of smoke, Liam is all sex appeal and nothing but trouble.
Liam stretches his arm out, squeezing Wells’s shoulder, but never averting his fixed scrutiny from me. “Since we all live here, it seems as though she’ll be my guest too. Right, Chief?” Ty smacks Liam’s chest. “So, Liam, this is Ivanna Kingston. Ivy, meet Liam Graves, otherwise known as the pot stirrer.” “Hey.” Liam laughs as though Ty nailed it and he’s not at all ashamed. “I keep things fun around here. Wells and Gage are far too serious.” His eyes bounce in mockery. “What about you, Ivy? You like to have a good time, don’t you?” He winks, and although he’s kind of a dick, I like him.
“You’re the one I need, Ivy.”
“It’s worse. She’s the job. Her father is our fucking client. And, furthermore”—he throws out his arms—“we agreed she needed to be brought into our inner circle. But everything tonight suggests you’re going to be coming into her inner circle.” Ty laughs, which garners a scowl from me. “Sorry.” He shrugs. “That was funny.” Children.
That’s true. It doesn’t. She isn’t mine because I saw her first. She’s mine because she was made for me and because everything changed the second I laid eyes on her, which he knows damn well.
The fucker doesn’t get her at all. Ivy is brighter than every star in the inky sky. A field of fireflies blinking nostalgia. A goddamn bonfire illuminating the stale night air. I’m skilled at hiding emotions, but at this moment, with my pulse thudding between my eyes and my fingers flexing with an itch to fist, it’s a struggle. “Ivy is the light.”
“I. Don’t. Share.”
“You and Liam are family, as is Ivy. She’s like a sister. You assholes can cockfight and risk losing her completely, but I’m keeping her forever.”
And trust me when I say, I won’t repeat my mistakes. I’ll protect this sister from anyone necessary.”
What the fuck am i missing
“So, if she doesn’t come willingly?” he asks. My gaze locks on to his with all the earnestness the answer requires. “We force her.”
C’mon, Little Storm. Talk to me.
“Oh, right. I should back up. I’m in …” Her tone grows tentative, shy. “I mean, if this whole marriage situation still works for you.” If she only knew. “Yes, Ivy, it works. You’ve made my day.
“It’ll be tight, but I can manage.” That’s not how things work with us, Little Storm. “I’m coming to get you. I’ll be there at two, help you pack up there, unload here, and take you to see your father tomorrow.”
“Ivanna,” I warn. “Yes, Gavin?” she snarks, and my cock jerks, aching to tame the brat. “I’ll be there at two.” It’s not a question or a suggestion. Several beats of weighty silence before a resigned, “Okay.” “See ya soon, Little Storm.”
but at the last second, I shift, pressing her against her Ferrari. Her breath hitches as I cage her there, lips parting when I dip my chin, eyes roving over my face as I lean in to whisper in her ear, “I’d like to hear you ask me nicely.”
“Ask me nicely, Little Storm. For what you want.”
“Please, Mr. Wells, could you get off your fucking ass, wipe the cocky smirk off your face, and load my damn luggage?”
I follow behind her on the way to Shady Pines so I can see her father and tell him his little girl is mine now.
He called me Ives. I love that almost as much as Little Storm, both so unbelievably fitting. It’s uncanny how he seems to know me better than he should, better than most. Maybe that’s a skill for his job—keen observation.
If he wants control, my compliance, he’ll have to earn it. Fight for it.
“If you were mine, I’d want to know who was taking you.”
“But rules are rules. Once a week. You go off and live your life the way he wants. That’s the best thing you can do for that man. Lord knows all he ever talked about was giving you a beautiful life.”
“Hey, Freckles.” Freckles. These guys like their nicknames, don’t they?
“As opposed to that inconspicuous matte-black six-wheeled Jeep Apocalypse?” I chirp, which causes Ty to clap with a chuckle while Liam and Wells both sport sexy smirks, but also inquiring eyes. “What?” I shrug. “I know cars.”
“A ’67 Shelby Cobra. Real or replica?” “Real.” Wells beams, proud, like he was yesterday when he brought me to see the house. “Jesus, and a 1970 Plymouth Road Runner. My father loves this car. A 1956 Porsche 356 Speedster. A Ferrari GTO 250—1963 or ’64?” “Impressive, Freckles.” Ty chuckles. “It’s a ’64.”
“We have ways of funding those who need to escape and can’t afford us. We’ve helped a lot of abuse victims that way. It’s the area of our operation that Ty oversees.”
“You’re part of our family now, Little Storm.” His voice is satiny, delivering those words, but I can’t help wondering if it’s part invitation, part threat.
“Good girl, Ivy.
I might not have sold myself as arm candy, but I think these men own me all the same.
I’ve had years to learn her, admire her, obsess over her. Crave her smell and her taste. Long for her touch. She’s even better—utter perfection. A goddamn masterpiece.
But she needs time to crave me the same way so that when she’s officially mine, she’ll believe she chose this regardless of how skewed that truth is.
She’s the storm. I need her to clear the path for us.
“Sorry,” she says, curled up near him on the couch, a half cushion away. Too damn close for my liking. “I have a whole other world up here that sucks me in when I least expect it. And often against my will. It’s like trying to hold on to grains of sand.” Holding grains of sand.
“Do you like that? Overbearing? Controlling?” “Powerful. Dominant. Sexy. Yeah, that works.” Jesus, she’s perfect. Doesn’t miss a beat and calls me sexy to Liam’s face. A goddamn dream. “Down, girl,” Liam snipes with a chuckle. He’s going to fuck with her now. Don’t let him get the upper hand, Little Storm.
You’re mine now, Little Storm.
Because I need you to trust me. Quickly.
“I need you, Little Storm. Not your money.”
“This is a step up from that. I don’t trust many people, so one of the four of us will be with you at all times.” Her chin jolts up, squinted eyes trained on me. “So”—she clenches her fists with a huff—“you’re saying I can never be alone now? For the next five years?”
Ivy twists in her seat to face Ty. “Dom Toretto. The Fast and the Furious.” I’m not sure what that’s about, but Ty bends in half, howling. “Shit, you’re hilarious, Freckles.”
“That wasn’t so bad,” he says, to which I cock my eyebrow, wondering if he was in the same room as me. He smiles. “She knows we won’t be letting her out of our sight, and as far as I can tell, she’s pissed but not planning to flee. Gage had to get that out of his system. It’s done. And if we didn’t already know, it’s clear she’s got the fight in her to survive what’s coming.” “She’s a lot to rein in,” I muse.
she may very well hate me when all is said and done. It’s the one destination I can’t see clearly because at the end of this, her feelings about me won’t be a choice I can manipulate any longer. But whether she likes it or not, she’ll be tethered to me. Mine. I’ll have to let that be enough.
The Little Storm played me.
Ivanna Kingston takes a proper dress and corrupts it into becoming the eighth deadly sin.
I like that she watches me. It’ll take the sting out of discovering I’ve been watching her for years.
You’ll never be the same, Little Storm.
