Page 136 of Bad for Me

“What are you doing here?”

“I work here, sir. I am the new front desk attendant. I’ve only been working here a few months,” Matthew says, flinching when I scowl at him.

“Who hired you?” I ask, confusion and frustration filling me. “Never mind. I don't have time for this shit. My name is Storm Rossi.” His face seems to pale at the mention of my name. “I own the building and should know everyone working here. I will find out who hired you without speaking to me first later.”

I tuck my gun back into my waistband and leave Matthew, heading for the bay of elevators. I pull out my knife, needing something to keep my hands busy and use the tip of the blade to hit the button for the elevator and smile when it opens immediately. I twirl the blade in the air, staring daggers at the numbers on the screen as they move impossibly slowly.

The blade is sharp, but I've spent my entire life training with my dad’s men, learning to handle every weapon under the sun. It's my destiny to take over when my dad dies or decides he is ready to step down. My mother wasn’t a fan at first, but when it became clear I had an appetite for violence and was a natural with weapons, I think she realized the training was the best thing for me. It channeled my anger, gave me an outlet and allowed me to act on those violent urges in a controlled space.

Finally, the door dings open, and I barrel out. I pause to take in my surroundings. Two of Dad’s men stand outside the single white door in the hallway. Ashby’s apartment is the only one on this floor. There are no other doors except for the emergency exit, which stays locked unless there is a fire or disaster. Ashby has a key, but I've never seen him use it since moving in. All the other floors have three apartments, but when Ashby started searching for an apartment, I made sure he came here. I’d set up an email for this condo and for the realtor selling it to offer it to him at a steal, telling him the previous tenants were in a hurry to move and just wanted to sell. He’d taken one look and fallen in love just like I knew he would.

"Storm," the voice of my dreams and obsessions calls. I watched videos of him nearly every day we were apart. I told my dad that if he didn’t send me updates every night, I would come home, get Ashby, and take him with me. Like the smart man, he believed me and kept his word. Some videos and pictures were from a distance, as if he was being watched. Some were posed, like the family photos his mother insisted they get professionally done every six months.I also checked the security cameras multiple times a day to watch him coming and going. When the distance became too much, I found myself sneaking back to get a closer look, never allowing myself to fully step out of the shadows to see him.

"Storm," my Sunshine calls again, snapping me back into focus. My head jerks towards the sound of his voice, my heart thundering in my chest with enough force that I fear it might burst through my ribs. "What are you doing here?"

I blink at the vision in front of me. He looks perfect. Not a scratch on him. His blue eyes are red-rimmed, and he has bags under them. His golden curls are unruly, and his clothing is rumpled, but he’s here. Standing in front of me.

“You're here,” I whisper in disbelief.

“Of course, I’m fucking here. It’s my fucking house,” he growls. “What are you doing here?”

There is a hardness in his voice that I’ve never heard before. I know it should worry me that he sounds so angry, but my dick grows incredibly hard in my jeans, the material pinching me, and I have to reach down and adjust it. Ashby tracks the movement, and I see the shiver he tries to hide.

"Storm," he nearly growls, and I prowl forward. He steps back as if he thinks he can run from me, and my smirk grows.

"Where do you think you are going, Sunshine?" I ask, my body pressing flush against his, pinning him to the wall. His cheeks heat, and I lean forward, licking up his neck and along his cheek. He whines quietly, his head tilting to the side to give me more access. I bite the tender flesh, but before I can do more, he pulls away and pushes me. I step back, giving him space even though my entire body screams at me from the distance.

“You left me,” he blurts angrily, rubbing at the small bruise already forming on his neck. My dick aches to see my claim on him after so long. “You left me.” My heart cracks as his voice breaks and tears flood his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to get you back,” I rasp, fighting off the urge to pull him back into my arms. The desire to merge his body with mine so he can never be apart from me again overwhelms me, and I tuck my hands into my pockets.

Ashby releases a choked sound. “Get me back?”

“I thought you were taken,” I answer, and his face falls, a single tear spilling over. I track it as it rolls down his cheeks, wishing I could lick it away.

“Oh,” he whispers. “So, you’re only here because you thought I was kidnapped.” More tears fall, and I swear my heart shatters. “Not because you wanted me back. Not because you missed me or needed me.”

Fuck.

Giving into my instincts, I grab Ashby and smash his body to mine. He lets out a startled huff, but he instantly melts into me. “I came back for you. You’re mine. You will always be mine. I never should have left in the first place, but I wasn't given a choice. When I heard you were taken, it was the worst moment in my entire life. The fury and fear I felt were beyond anything I'd ever thought I was capable of feeling. I got on the jet immediately and flew straight to you.” My breath ruffles his hair as I speak into his ear, my hands rubbing over his body, reassuring myself he is here with me.

After a moment, Ashby pulls back just enough to look at me. My gaze is drawn to his pretty pink lips, and my cock twitches in my pants. He opens his mouth, and I attack, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth, biting the flesh roughly. Ashby moans, and I swallow the sound, tangling my tongue with his; the taste of his blood hitting my taste buds makes me groan and grind against him.

“Why did you leave me?” Ashby pants, eyes heavy-lidded as he looks up at me.

"If you’re finished, we have a lot to discuss," my dad says before I can reply, and I turn my head, keeping Ashby pinned between me and the wall. I snarl at him, knowing Ashby's blood is staining my lips.

"We’re not," I growl, and Dad hesitates, the look on his face letting me know he heard Ashby’s questions and doesn't want me to tell him. But I'm done letting my father control me.

"Well, hurry the fuck up.” He signals for his men to follow him inside and slams the door behind them.

"How did you know I was kidnapped? Did your dad call you?" Ashby asks when I turn back to him. His voice is soft, and I can hear the faint tremble. It makes me want to murder someone. But I caused that pain. The person who needs to suffer is me. And I will.

"Well," I say and pause, trying to decide how to explain. Honesty. My sunshine has always been stronger than people gave him credit for. He can handle it. “I own the building and have been watching you through the security cameras,” I explain, running one hand over his chest while the other grips his neck, forcing him to keep his eyes on me.I watch a series of emotions flicker across his face. Anger, confusion, lust, excitement, frustration.

“So, you have been watching me?” he asks, face pinched and a flush heating his cheeks. “What else?”

“I have, on occasion, snuck down to… watch you,” I say cautiously, unsure how he will take that revelation.

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