Page 42 of Of Blood and Smoke

A million thoughts raced through my head, and I didn’t hear what he was saying but the team followed my crew into the building.

Josiah began heading back toward me and I met him halfway. “You didn’t have to do this, I have movers,” I stated.

“It's just a precaution.”

“Against what?” I really wished he didn’t have the sunglasses on all the time, it was annoying not being able to fully communicate with him. I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Would you like breakfast?”

“What? I don’t know; why did you bring people here? Who are they?”

His chest heaved as if he were irritated before he let out a sigh. “These are my men. They are going to make sure yours are efficient and then they will unpack for you.”

“I don’t want anyone going through my stuff. It's my stuff, my personal things. Tell them to stop,” I objected. I needed to get in there and direct the crew to where I wanted furniture placed. There was too much going on, I was stressed out enough as it was and here was my home invader, showing up and making it all worse. How was this supposed to work, again?

I’d always taken care of everything and had as much control over my life as I possibly could, and I was doing a damn good job of it. I didn’t need a babysitter.

“I’m going inside,” I announced. I stopped for a moment and looked at him. Too much was going on around me before to notice, but shockingly, he wasn’t wearing a dress shirt.Instead, he had on a form-fitting cashmere long-sleeved shirt that highlighted everything. Maybe I could use his people to help because if he stuck around, I wouldn’t get any work done by staring at him all day.

He held perfectly still, as if he weren’t even breathing while I eye-fucked him. Swallowing, I said, “I need to go inside.”

Hours later, I had separated the boxes I didn’t want touched from the ones that I ended up giving permission for Josiah’s men to open. My moving company had arranged everything where I wanted it and left with what I’d assume was an unusually large tip, based on the reaction to the stack of bills they shoved into their pockets.

Take-out food was delivered, and I firmly put my foot down when Josiah said he’d have groceries brought in. I’d packed the contents of my old fridge; it wasn't like I didn’t have food, but apparently, he thought I needed more.

I was sitting on my couch eating a burrito while he sat typing away on his phone. I was still ogling him, but it struck me how casual he appeared, legs sprawled with his elbows resting on his knees. I’d never seen him anything but stiff and formal—outside of when he had his hands all over me or his mouth glued to my pussy in the middle of the night.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked him.

He slid his glasses off and placed them on the low table in the center of the living room. “I don’t consume that type of food very often.”

“Everybody likes Mexican,” I said, with a grin.

His jaw slid to the side before he answered. “I prefer French, Miss DuBois.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had French food; I can’t remember.” Crumpling the paper wrapper, I stood and tossed it into the under-counter waste basket and washed my hands. My dad wasa proud Frenchman but as far as I knew, he’d never prepared any of the culture’s dishes.

Leaning back, I took in my new living space. Even with the packing materials scattered around, the place was sparkling, clean, and fresh. It didn’t have the dinginess or stale air I had become so accustomed to.

Apparently, it even came with my overbearing boss, I mused before I snickered. It was surreal that he was reclining in my living room. He was like a demon, pretending to hate me during the day and then sneaking into my bed at night.

The apartment had a guest bedroom where I’d had my father’s items set up and my heart twinged. It was highly unlikely he’d ever see the inside of my new home, but I remained hopeful. Miracles could happen, and I had to believe they would.

I’d checked in with his doctor earlier as I hadn’t been to his rehab center for several days. Between work and getting ready to move, there hadn’t been much time. She’d said there’s been no changes in him. None were better than a turn for the worse, I suppose.

“How do you move so fast?”

Josiah was by my side when I looked up. “Are you okay?” he asked.

He curled an arm around me and tugged me close as I stiffened. “I am. Was just thinking about my dad, that’s all.” I pulled away slightly. “I’m sorry; I want to be close to you but it's kinda weird with you, um, in daylight.”

“How were you getting into my apartment before?” I had never asked him, and it’d been weighing on my mind.

“I picked the locks.”

“But I had deadbolts, multiple. And chains and bars.”

He placed his hands on my shoulders, and I met his onyx gaze. “It's an art,” he replied.

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