Dangerous: Made & Broken (A British Bad Boy Romance) (12 page)

“Thank you.” I took a sip from the glass, because it would have been rude not to. It felt expensive and smooth on my tongue, like thick silk. My next sip was bigger, and not from politeness.

He was watching me again, his expression as unreadable as ever.

I sighed and put the glass down. “You know, it’s really unnerving when you do that.”

His eyebrows rose a millimeter. I took it as a question.

“The silent staring. Or just the silence, to be honest. I think I’d prefer yelling, if this is your way of showing your disapproval.”

“I offered to keep check on your phone because if my father sent someone to fetch you, you’d likely get a few bruises. I don’t
disapprove
of you trying to escape. Blaine’s a bastard.”

“Oh.” I looked up into his flint-colored eyes with some uncertainty. “Then… why didn’t you just let me get in the cab?”

“Can’t.” Marcus looked down at the counter where he was tapping his fingers against the smooth marble. “He likes you too much.”

“Uhh…” I blinked, and felt my eyebrows creep up as high on my forehead as they could go. “Who? Blaine? He said that?”

“No. Doesn’t have to. We can tell.”

“‘
We
’?” I inquired. “And
how
? Just, you know, out of morbid curiosity. ‘Cause I gotta tell ya, I’m not really getting the same vibes. In fact, I’m pretty sure he hates me as much as I hate him. A prime example would be tonight, when he chased me through the house and threw me on the floor because I pissed him off.”

Marcus stilled completely, and for the first time that night, I saw clear emotion crossing his features. Dark anger filtered across his handsome face, but when he turned to face me, only his eyes kept that dark spark—the rest of his expression was as blank as before. “
What?”

Uh-oh.
If I thought he’d had a scary presence before, it was nothing against the nearly physical tendrils of
danger
that seemed to creep across the floor and envelop the entire room with his anger.

“We had a fight,” I squeaked, clutching at the wine glass hard to stop my hand from trembling. As angry as I was with Blaine, I was willing to backpedal if it meant his brother would get slightly less terrifying. “It wasn’t unprovoked—I threw wine in his face.”

“He
hurt
you?”

I thought back to the fight, and realized that no… he hadn’t. I’d been scared, and he had been rough, but at no point had I been physically injured. “No, not really. He just... scared me. And then he left. That’s why I snuck out—I wasn’t planning on running away or anything. I just wanted to—to show him he can’t treat me like that and expect I’ll just be an obedient little woman who stays put.”

I hadn’t mean to confess that—not to anyone, least of all to Blaine’s scary brother, but it just seemed to spill out as I stared at his blank face and storm gray eyes.

Marcus looked at me for what felt like the longest time, and I felt like he was trying to X-ray my brain with the intensity of his stare to ensure I was telling the truth. Finally, he nodded and pulled back from the kitchen counter, and it was as if the pressure in the air around us changed, making it suddenly easier to breathe.

“Finish your wine. I’m calling Blaine, and then he and I will talk before you go home. He won’t ever scare you like that again.”

The way he said “talk,” I couldn’t help but wince internally. Seemed like I’d gotten an unexpected ally.

* * * *

Chapter 13

Blaine

“Seriously, what’s gotten into you?” Liam shoved a drink across the table to me as he sat down on the crimson leather sofa on my left side. He didn’t have to shout over the music, even though we were in
Red,
one of our more exclusive nightclubs. The VIP section wasn’t nearly as loud as the rest of the club, set up to allow for sensitive business deals to be made in the private booths.

“Who actually
volunteers
for a liquidation job?” Louis chimed in from my right. “Even Marcus’s never done that.”

I looked down at my bloody knuckles with disgust. We killed people fairly frequently, and I knew even the lighthearted twins had had to put a few arseholes down over the years. Men who stole from us, enemies who crossed the line, snitches…  there was always a method to it, a nearly clinical procedure that left the least amount of evidence behind. Tie the man to a chair, spread plastic wrapping underneath him, one bullet to the brain. Easy clean up.

That wasn’t what I’d done tonight.

“Of course, Marcus
has
beaten more than one poor sap who crossed him to death before. Did you know the guy?” Liam asked. Despite their light tones, I knew both of them well enough to realize they were mildly concerned. I couldn’t blame them. When I closed my eyes I could still feel the satisfying crunch of bones breaking beneath my fists.

“He was a human trafficker. Brought underage girls in to work for him, the sick shit.” I flexed my hand and suppressed a grimace at the dull throbbing. “And I untied him—he had a fair chance.”

“Right.” Louis took a sip of his drink and leaned back against the high-backed sofa, sprawling out like he was completely unconcerned with my inexplicable rampage. I wished Ben hadn’t called them after I told him to fuck off and let me deal with the human trafficker. If they hadn’t shown up I could have disappeared into my own darkness—and right now, all I wished for was to let it swallow me up.

“But we’re still pretty curious as to
why
you felt the need to go full-on Hulk. He was going to die regardless,” Louis continued.

“—And you’ve never really struck us as the vigilante-type,” Liam finished.

Fuck, those two could be annoying when you were sandwiched between them. I shot a glare first to my right, and then to my left. “It’s none of your fucking business, is what it is.”

“Ah.”

“Mira, then.”

“What did you do this time?”

“I didn’t
do
anything!” I growled. “And you two knobheads need to back off right the fuck now.”

“Sure you didn’t.” Liam gave me his driest look as he calmly sipped his drink. “Is she still not putting out, then? It’s been, what, just over a week since you got hitched? Your balls must be blue by now.”

“I don’t care if she puts out or not,” I growled. “She’s not the only woman in the world. It’s not like our marriage is real.”

“Oh, right then.” Louis gestured toward the full dance floor with his drink-free hand. “Then why don’t you go pick up a bird for the night? Nothing like a good shag after a fight, right?”

I gritted my teeth and slumped back against the sofa, arms folded across my chest. Fuckers knew me far too well.

And that was the fucking travesty, wasn’t it? Because ever since I’d woken up next to Mira the morning after our disaster of a wedding, I’d not been able to think about anyone but her. Just the thought of picking up some random girl made me inexplicably sick to my stomach.

But Mira didn’t want me. She’d made that perfectly clear. Sure, her body reacted as strongly to me as mine did to her, but it wasn’t enough. It shouldn’t have mattered—she was just a bird I’d been stuck with against my will, after all. I shouldn’t have given one flying fuck whether or not she wanted me.

So why did I?

I clenched my sore fist at the renewed wave of frustration that rushed through me just from thinking about her. She had brought up my family, brought up my moment of weakness, and as furious as I’d gotten, the moment she threw that wine in my face my only desire was to throw her on the table and fuck her until she begged for my forgiveness. And then again. And again.

I hated her for what she was doing to my already fucked-up mind. At least before I’d met her, the darkness in me was the only thing that’d scared me. Now… now
she
scared me, because all my thoughts and all my messed up emotions revolved around her. The one woman who refused to give in to me.

The sound of my phone ripped me out of my sulking.

Despite my frustration and generally crappy mood, a touch of curiosity made its way through at the sight of Marcus’ name popping up on the display. It had been maybe a year since he last called me, and then it’d been to tell me to get my arse out of whichever girl’s bed I was in at the time and meet him for a job. We saw each other regularly enough at events and jobs, sure, but we never talked much. So why the hell was he calling me now?

I flicked “answer” and held the phone up to my ear. “Yeah?”

“
Your wife is at my place. Come get her.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“
Your wife. She’s with me. Come get her.”

“Why the fuck is she—” I stopped talking when the call cut off and cussed under my breath. He’d never been much into phone etiquette—or any manners at all, really. Why the hell had he picked up Mira? Had our house been compromised? My gut dropped and I shot up from my seat, knocking my untouched drink over in the process.

“What’s going on?” Despite Liam’s relaxed pose, his shoulders tensed as he looked up at me. Ready for a fight. Out of all my father’s sons, the twins were the least vicious, but I knew I could always count on them if shit hit the fan.

“I don’t know,” I said, already making my way out of the booth so I could get to my car. “Marcus called, said he’s got Mira with him. I’ll let you know if anything’s going down.”

“Oh. Right. You do that.”

Perhaps if I’d been less focused on getting to Marcus ASAP, I would have paid more attention to the meaningful look that passed between the twins.

* * *

When the elevator doors opened up at the penthouse floor in Marcus’ building, the nervous energy in my body was so intense I had to flex my shoulders and hands a few times before I knocked on the door. If she’d been hurt, he would have said something—I hoped. But then what could have happened to make my crazy-arse brother drive all the way to the suburbs to pick up my wife? And why had he been notified, and not me?

My looping thoughts were interrupted when Marcus opened the door. His face was as blank and unreadable as always.

“She okay?” I couldn’t stop the question from bubbling out. Fuck it, despite spending most of the car ride here reassuring myself, I needed to know. If not, that human trafficker wouldn’t be the last person I’d kill tonight.

“Yes.” Marcus stepped aside, and I walked into his well-lit flat with the view of London that would normally have made me take a few seconds to appreciate the grandness of it all. Today though, I looked around for Mira with no interest in anything else.

She was sitting by the kitchen island with an empty wine glass next to her and a stubborn, yet somewhat unsettled, expression on her pretty face.

A knot I hadn’t been aware of until then loosened in my stomach, and I drew in a quiet sigh of relief.

“Mira, go into the bedroom. Blaine and I need to talk.”

I frowned at the way my brother seemed to think it was okay to order my wife around, but Mira slid off her seat without protest and pattered out of the kitchen, disappearing around a corner. Shortly after, a door clicked shut.

Huh. Seemed even my obstinate wife found it best to obey Marcus without a fight. He tended to have that effect on people, but I could have sworn Mira got off on arguing just for the sake of it.

“What?” I was aware my tone was snappy, but I didn’t care. Tonight had been one long headache, and the way Marcus was eying me, I had a feeling it wasn’t going to get any better anytime soon.

“She says you
chased
her through the house and threw her down on the floor. Is that true?”

I gaped at him for a moment, completely taken aback.

“Is that true?”

“Why the hell is she telling you about our business? Did you two exchange dirty details of our wedding night, as well?”

“If you ever scare her like that again, or
hurt
her, you and I are going to have a problem. Mum would roll over in her grave if she knew you were treating a defenseless woman like this.” He hadn’t raised his voice, but there was an unmistakable note of warning in it.

“
Scare
her? That little tart doesn’t get scared, Marcus. I don’t know what the fuck she’s been telling you, but that is not what went down. And why the hell do you care, anyway? Last I checked, she was my unwanted bride, not yours. If you wanted in on this shit show, you really should have stepped up earlier—saved me the headache.”

“I picked her up a mile from your house. Dad’s put a tap on her phone to make sure the Clerys don’t fuck us over from the inside, and lucky for her, I’m the one who monitors it. She was apparently scared enough to risk the fallout of running off after your little encounter.”

“Run off?” I stared at him, partly shocked that she would be that stupid, and partly impressed that she’d somehow managed to get past the security. And pretty pissed with the night team for letting her outsmart them like that. “She
ran off
?”