I blush stupidly. “What did you tell her?”
“That I’m a man in love,” he replies and leads me into the kitchen where the other three men are sitting with coffee or food.
I’m greeted enthusiastically, although none of them hug me. I know it’s because they are aware how sore I am. It’s sweet. And scary. I’m used to being alone. Not lonely though. I enjoy my own company. Now my kitchen, my home has been invaded by these men, but I find that I’m not that put out by it.
I accept the mug of steaming hot coffee that David hands me and pull away from Declan to open my laptop, which is already on the counter, courtesy of David, no doubt, to check my emails.
The first one that jumps out at me is a name that infuriates me.
“Giselle,” I seethe and click it furiously to see what that cunt wants with me.
My narrowed eyes go wide and then I clamp my lips shut as I read her blackmailing email.
“What is it?” David asks.
“I’m going to fucking kill her,” I roar and pick up my phone to hurl against the kitchen wall.
David’s hand goes up and clamps around mine. “Sorry, no,” he says. “New ones are a bitch to sort out if the old one is smashed to pieces.”
“Grrr,” I snarl when he wrestles it from me and hands me an orange from the fruit bowl on the counter instead. “Fucking cunt!” I yell and fling the orange as hard as I can at the French doors that lead to the back garden. It hits the double glazing with a thud and drops to the floor in a very anticlimactic manner. “And fuck you too,” I grit out to the orange.
Declan bends to pick it up and tosses it in the air. Catching it, he asks, “Speak to us, Ruby. What’s she done?”
“She is blackmailing me to lay off her,” I snap.
“Blackmailing you with what?” David asks, perplexed as Ramsey comes closer with a concerned expression.
“She has recordings of me and my sessions at her club,” I mutter.
“What?” Declan snaps, stalking over to my laptop. “How do you know?”
“Take a look,” I mumble, and step closer so he can only see the first few seconds of the video I saw.
His face goes dark, and he growls loudly, turning to me when I slam the laptop closed.
“She’s threatening to send that to my parents and plaster it all over social media,” I say quietly, hating this, hating her and hating the way Declan is looking at me with sorrow.
“What do you want me to do?” he asks stiffly.
This must be having an effect on him as well, seeing the man he murdered abuse me in such a way that even a whipped dog had it better. How did I ever think that was okay? How fucked up am I? Tears spring into my eyes and David wraps his arms around me, and so does Ramsey.
Layton, who has so far been quiet—not unusually—stands up and says, “Tell us what you want us to do.”
I pull away from the two men and brush my tears aside. How dare she think she can get away with this. She definitely doesn’t know who she’s dealing with.
“Nothing,” I growl, finding my anger. I snatch up my phone from the counter where David placed it, ignoring his groan of protest, but I’m not going to chuck it this time. I scroll through my contacts until I land on the man I need to call.
He answers after a couple of rings and I snarl into the phone, “I’ve got a job for you. You know Giselle’s in the city? Yeah? Burn it to the fucking ground and make sure it looks like she did it for the insurance. I want that bitch buried!”
I hang up in a temper and grip the phone like a lifeline, needing a release of tension before I implode with the rage coursing through me. She is about to find out that messing with me on this scale is a big, big mistake.