Page 18 of Unforgettable

Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them back. “Thank you, Slade.”

“No thanks needed. I want you to remember that you can count on me.”

I have to swallow around the thick emotion that’s growing in my throat before I can find my voice. “I won’t forget.”

Slade gives me a firm nod, then leads me off the elevator and into the biggest condo I have ever seen. Even to my untrained eye, I can tell you this place is top-of-the-line everything. I thought the penthouse above the club was fancy, it has nothing on this place.

Exquisite art covers the walls and the dark hardwood floors shine. There is a plush rug between two cream-colored sofas that looks so thick and luxurious, I want to take my shoes off and bury my toes in the soft pile.

The last place I lived; I didn’t dare step on the floor barefoot. The rooms were all done in a piecemeal of horrible throwback to the 70s carpet—more likely it just hadn’t been changed since the 70s—it was sticky, stained, and smelled horrible. The whole place was awful. I even wore flip flops in the shower because it was so gross that a jackhammer and a pressure washer couldn’t make a dent in the gunk that was permanently fused to the bathtub.

I try to imagine what the bathroom here looks like. I bet it’s spotless. I wonder if there’s a bathtub big enough for me to soak in. I haven’t had a real bath in so long. I’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure. For now, I continue taking in this amazing apartment, in awe of the fact that I’m actually going to be staying here.

On the other side of the plush couches—couches that I can see myself curling up on with a cozy blanket and a good book—are floor to ceiling windows. The view… there aren’t enough words in my vocabulary to describe it. The sun is setting in the distance giving the view of Central Park an almost otherworldly appearance. It’s breathtaking.

Though it’s Matthew who takes my breath away when he steps around Slade and gently cups my cheek. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He rubs at the back of his neck, looking nervous for the first time since I met him. “I lost my shit when I saw that look of fear on your face. I never want to see you afraid again.”

Feeling braver than I am, I put my hand on top of his. “I appreciate that you want to keep me safe—from everything apparently—but Kisten is right, I am skittish. I always have been and probably always will be. It’s something I’m used to so you should try to not freak out every time I jump, okay?”

Bravely, I take a step closer to Matthew until I can wrap my arms around him in a hug. Slowly, he wraps his arms around me in return. Taking care to be gentle with my back. I rest my head on his chest over his heart. The steady thumping is soothing. I can’t quite explain it but being in his arms feels like coming home. Honestly, I’m not sure how I even recognize the feeling. I’ve been without the comforts most people associate with a home since my mom died when I was fifteen.

My stomach picks that moment to growl loudly, causing my cheeks to flame from embarrassment. Matthew pushes his lips to my hair, and after a few more seconds of holding me, he pulls away. “Let’s get you fed.”

“Okay.” I try to smile, but it’s lost in a grimace when he moves his arms away, causing my shirt to pull away from the worst of the wounds on my back. He narrows his eyes then spins me around. Whatever he sees leaves him less than happy if the curses falling from his lips are anything to go by.

Without a word, Matthew grabs the hem of my dress and pulls it over my head in one quick movement. I gasp and cover my breasts. Even though both Slade and Kisten just got an eyeful of my nakedness, neither of them comments or acts like anything is off about Matthew just stripping me down in front of them.

Matthew’s breath hisses through his teeth, and he makes a few other grunting noises as he gently examines my back. “I knew it was too early for those stitches to come out. You’ve reopened a couple of the wounds. Damn you, Daniels. This is why I got so fucking mad. Look what you did.”

Kisten gives me an apologetic look before walking around to look at my back. I wince when he makes a pained sound. As if my wounds are a physical blow to him. I don’t know these guys well, but I know enough to know that Kisten is going to beat himself up over this and that Matthew is only one misstep away from beating up his best friend all over again.

“Holy Fuck. Damon did this? In our club? In a public scene?” Kisten’s voice is incredulous.

I don’t know if he wants answers to his questions or if he’s just trying to work out how something like this happened at Matthew’s club. A place that is supposed to be safe for its members. I don’t dare answer. Matthew is treading close to the edge already, and I don’t want to draw any closer attention to the fact that his club isn’t nearly as safe as he thought.

“You should’ve let me beat him to death for this,” Kisten says coldly. “In fact, I still might.”

I look over my shoulder to see Kisten’s eyes glued to my back in a cartoonish look of horror. Matthew’s eyes are burning pits of flame that promise retribution, and he’s looking straight at his best friend. I know he doesn’t want to fight with Kisten. He’s pissed and wants to lash out at someone, but Kisten doesn’t deserve his wrath.

“Matty, it wasn’t his fault.” I’m not sure where the nickname comes from, but I like it. I like thinking of him as my Matty and not Matthew or Master Bennett that everyone else calls him. With downcast eyes, I quietly accept the blame. “This is my fault. No one else.” I can’t look at any of them as I admit, “It’s all my fault.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rose,” Kisten barks. “This is Damon’s fault. He’s a piece of shit that we should have dealt with a long fucking time ago.”

“Don’t you fucking yell at her,” Matthew growls, taking a threatening step towards Kisten.

“Both of you calm the fuck down. Why don’t you focus on what’s important right now?” Slade snaps. “Come on, little bit, let’s get you cleaned up. Hannah will tend to your back and then make you dinner.”

A pretty redhead steps out from behind Slade and gives me a shy smile. “I’m happy to be of service,” she says softly.

“Hannah, Rose will be staying with us for the foreseeable future. She’s ours to take care of while she’s here.”

Matthew lets out a low growl when Slade uses the word “ours” in conjunction with my name. Warmth blooms in my chest at the possibility that he doesn’t want to share me.

The redhead—Hannah—looks up at Slade with so much love and adoration it’s painful to see, especially when Slade returns the look with hardness. It doesn’t seem to faze her, though.

“As you please, master,” she says quietly.

Slade blows out a breath. “Hannah—” he starts but seems to think better of whatever he was going to say and closes his mouth.

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