Page 12 of Room One Hundred and Seven: Catch and Claim

“Someone has to be and since I’m the only one who has been keeping track of Kirby, because I knew exactly who she was to us ten years ago even though the timing was complete shit, I’ve been the most levelheaded of the bunch.” When he glances at me to see the dubious look I’m giving him, he shoots me with a narrow-eyed glare and waves his hand toward where he’s working the lock, “Case in point. It’s not like we could break this door down without someone noticing and coming to investigate.”

I grunt in response, because he’s not wrong. Before he can give any more examples of how Kirby has scrambled my brain, and Dominic’s as well, the door swings open. The sight that greets me has me seeing red, but not because it’s scandalous.

Kirby is sitting on the edge of the bed with the man we saw her with earlier kneeling at her feet. Her eyes are locked on us as we fill the doorway. The way her eyebrow is arched has me wondering if she was expecting us and has just been waiting.

Kirby snaps, “That didn’t take nearly as long as I thought it would. You should have taken the bet, Charlie,” she shoots the man at her feet a sharp look, “because you would have won.”

“Yes, mistress,” he practically purrs, a blush rising up his neck and toward his cheeks.

I don’t know if he’s embarrassed because of the position that he’s in or because he’s concerned that we’re going to judge him. It’s not going to happen.

Well, as long as he leaves without much fuss.

“Well,” Kirby draws the word out and, effectively, pulls my attention back at her, “are you going to share why you have so rudely interrupted this session? One you have no right to be interrupting, by the way.” Her lips are pursed, her displeasure written clearly on her face. “Not that I should even need to say that because you know you aren’t supposed to be in here.”

“We’re here to talk to you,” I growl the words and take a step closer to her.

I can practically feel the way Wolfe wants to hold me back, but he still steps up right along with me while Dominic does the same. That’s why they’re my brothers. They don’t have to always agree with my play, but they back me and it.

“I don’t see what we could possibly have to talk about. I don’t even know your names,” Kirby waves her hand dismissively, her tone matching the gesture.

It’s a brush off. We all know it. But the thing is that I’m not easily brushed off.

“We’re not going anywhere little Phoenix,” Dominic’s voice holds a hint of steel while still being soft.

It’s clear he’s not going to budge on this, but at the same time he’s not trying to threaten her. Putting her in that kind of position is the last thing any of us want.

Kirby’s glare intensifies to the point that she would peel layers of skin off me if she was within reach and had the right tools to do so. “Charlie, it seems like it was a good idea for me to give you instructions already,” her tone is sultry and enticing while she speaks to the man at her feet even though her eyes never leave us. “Be a good boy and leave us.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Charlie whispers before crawling toward where we still stand in front of the door.

We part for him and only when he’s within reach of the door does he stand. “Oh, and Charlie,” Kirby calls out and the man turns toward her, his eyes on the ground, as she promises, “I’ll be checking up on you. I expect my instructions to be followed.”

“Of course, Mistress.” Then he slips out of the door without looking back.

My curiosity is screaming at me to find out what the fuck she instructed him to do. It takes a lot of effort to not pepper her with questions. How I refrain, I’ll never know.

It might have something to do with the look in her eyes as she sits there on the edge of the bed looking like fucking royalty. Her shoulders are back and there’s nothing relaxed about her posture. Her head is raised, and her chin is jutting out defiantly.

“You,” I start, but she holds up a hand and for some fucking reason my words die on my tongue.

“I’m going to warn you before you start spewing some macho bullshit on me,” she sneers the words. “I’m not some simpering little woman who doesn’t know her worth or understand what she’s doing. I am very aware of what every choice I’ve made in the last ten years means and how it led me right to where I am.”

She arches an eyebrow as her blue-grey eyes stare straight into mine. Her words are a challenge, and they’re directly aimed at me.

I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, needing to get a little bit of composure back. I’ve never been knocked off my feet by a woman before, but with her it’s like I’m on my back footwith no hope of ever getting ahead. It’s odd, but I can’t say I completely hate it either.

Very fucking odd.

Instead of bringing up what she’s clearly expecting me to bring up, I change tactics. “You remember who we are,” I don’t phrase it like a question because it’s not.

The way she emphasized ten years was a clear indication. My gut is screaming at me that if she didn’t remember, and if that night hadn’t earned us at least a little respect and some of her time, then we wouldn’t even be having this conversation in the first place.

“I remember,” her voice is brittle.

For the first time since I saw her for the first time in ten years, her fragility shines through. For some reason that has hope and warmth spreading through my chest.

She needs me.

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