Page 20 of Revengeful Punks (Dolls and Douchebags)

“Tillie. I live by this lifestyle where I could die any moment, be ripped away with regrets if I didn’t step up and put my actions into words. The moment I saw you, I fucking knew. You're it for me. It may seem fast, but I love you. It’s that simple.”

My heart skips a beat with each word coming out of his mouth and then starts pounding that I think I might pass out.

“I love you too,” I whisper and slam into him so hard that he rocks back on his heels as I squeeze him tight, resting my head over his pounding heartbeat.

“I know,” he cockily says and scoops me up into his arms suddenly, walking towards the open doorway that leads into the master bathroom. “Relax for now and then we’ll go face Logan together. Okay?” He raises a dark eyebrow, noticing the gloomy look spreading over my face.

“I really want to hate him, but I just can’t.” I bite my lower lip, dreading facing him, but I’m going to have to at some point, and I’d rather it be with the rest of the guys by my side.

“Say the word. I have a bullet with his name carved into it just for him.” Dom grins down at me and sets me on my feet by the shower as he turns on the water.

“You can’t kill him. Unfortunately, it would upset me.” I scrunch my face and love his carefree laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Maybe all will be alright and no blood will have to be spilled… maybe.

* * *

Dom walks me through his hallways, pointing out rooms as we pass by while he plays with the ends of my wet hair, twirling it around his fingers. Warm, rich brown floors and light tan walls give his house a welcoming and relaxing feel to it. The windows are open, showing lush lawns and bright colors of dahlia flowers scattered everywhere. I’m amazed as he points through an open doorway towards his office with a mahogany desk and bookshelves lining the walls. A pool table can be seen through another doorway with a bar and big, brown leather chairs. We pass more guest bedrooms before walking into an open-plan living room that brings in natural light. I could picture myself curled up in the big sectional and staring out into the gardens through the French doors.

As we step through a handcrafted archway, more warm tones that wrap around a kitchen with a huge island come into view. Pots and pans with steaming food litter the counter while light brown bricks and skylights make me want to pull up a chair and watch hisYayamaster the kitchen with years of practice. It smells so good in here that my mouth waters. That is until my gaze moves away from her humming around the kitchen and settles on a pair of sharp, honey-colored eyes that are boring into mine. I’m suddenly not hungry and would rather be anywhere else than looking into Logan’s gaze.

“I’m right here.” Dom places a kiss on my temple and walks over to hisYaya,popping a kiss on her cheek before heading over to the sink to wash his hands to help.

“Cuppy cupcake! I fucking missed your sweet lips!” Tey barrels into me, somehow crossing the kitchen at a rapid pace and lifting me off my feet to twirl us around in a circle that breaks my stare down with Logan.

“Language!” Isabella scolds Tey, and I can’t help but chuckle as he puts me back down and looks sheepish.

Remind me to never mess with Dom’sYaya.That woman is a force of nature if she can make my crazy Tey behave.

“Pet, sounds like you had an…interesting morning.” Nicky’s voice comes from behind me, his tone almost sounding bored, but a hint of amusement slips through.

Slowly pulling out of Tey’s tight embrace, I turn to face Nicky and cross my arms in annoyance. I’m pissed at him. Okay, I’m more than pissed. I’m fucking hurt. The one person who I expect to give it to me straight and hold nothing back lied to me. Maybe lying isn't the right word, but he held shit back from me and didn’t tell me about the club and Paris.

“Jealous?” I ask, unable to help the snide remark coming out while my face shifts into a hurt expression before I mask it, just like the cold expression adorning his features.

“Extremely,” he replies in a deadly serious tone. It's his only fucking reply and he walks around me without another word, his hand lightly brushing mine.

I’m pretty sure my jaw is on the floor. The audacity of these men. He doesn’t even offer an apology or excuse for what the hell he was doing at the club with Paris. I have a feeling Nicky wouldn’t have wanted to be at the club unless he was forced. He hates Paris. You can just tell by the way he ignores her whenever she’s around. It’s another thing I need to figure out, why the secrets? Why go behind my back? Was I not worth telling?

“Give it time. There's always more to the story, remember? Nicky is… not one to share his pent-up feelings so well,” Tey whispers softly into my ear from behind and steers me closer to the kitchen island with a hand on my hip.

I don’t want to go near Logan because I have a strong urge to beat up his pretty face, but I need to get this over with. It’s now or never.

I refuse to continue to have this pain in my chest. I want to close the door and never look back. That’s my new motto. Leave the past where it belongs… in the past. They say to learn from history, and I’m hoping I’m wrong about Logan and Nicky. I don’t know what I’ll do if they really did betray me. Just the thought of it fucking hurts.

I rub my aching chest and take a deep breath, trying to remember that in all this madness things do not always seem to be as they appear. Get down to the roots of the story, then kick ass if need be.

I meet Logan’s gaze hesitantly and lift my chin up high. Like fuck will I look weak in his eyes. I’ll make sure he can see just how strong I am, even if I’m dying inside. His intense eyes shine with approval as I stride over to him with my back straight, making sure he can’t see my trembling hands by clenching them at my sides.

“It’s not what it seems.” That’s the first thing out of his mouth the moment I stand in front of him, noticing how his voice carries in the kitchen.

Everyone is pretending to be doing something else when I glance around, acting like they aren’t listening, but each of them aren’t as sneaky as they appear. Tey is leaning against the counter, peering into each pot on the stove until Isabella shoos him away. Dalton is rocking back and forth on his heels as he stares out the French glass doors, but he keeps looking over his shoulder. Dom is chopping up some vegetables but isn’t even paying attention to the knife in his hand as he stares at us like he’s getting ready to jump in at any second if I need him. The only person not pretending is Nicky as he stands a few paces beside Logan, his arms crossed over his chest. I guess he’s not talking, letting Logan explain for them both.

“Really? Then you didn’t go out with Paris? It wasn’t you and Nicky in that journalist photo? Was Paris mistaken as I smashed her face in?” I question sarcastically, crossing my arms under my chest and cocking a hip.

Dalton whistles like he knows Logan is digging himself into a deeper hole. I glance over at Nicky and am almost shocked at the look of approval in his gaze.

“Anything else?” Nicky asks, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wants to laugh.

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