Page 24 of Burning Ivy (The KORT)

There’s a splash of surprise in his emerald eyes with my question. I wonder what he expected me to ask.

“We have ways of funding those who need to escape and can’t afford us. We’ve helped a lot of abuse victims that way. It’s the area of our operation that Ty oversees.”

A puff of air falls from my lungs. “I love that.”

He squares his shoulders to me, hands in his pockets. “That wasn’t the question you wanted to ask though, Ives. Ask me.”

How does this man read me so well?

I suck in a breath of courage, my gaze glued to his. “Do you hurt people?”

No hesitation. “Not good people.” And no apology.

He believes in what he does, and my gut tells me there’s good reason for that.

Although he essentially admitted to hurtingbadpeople, which could be subjective, but if I’m honest with myself, I sensed the gangsters-in-suits, Mafiavibe on that very first day. And it excited me.

“That’s enough for now,” I mutter. “I’ll be okay.”

“You’re part of our family now, Little Storm.” His voice is satiny,delivering those words, but I can’t help wondering if it’s part invitation, part threat.

The other night at the restaurant when I asked him about his work, he explained very little, ending the discussion by stating that some details couldn’t bedisclosedwithout spousal privilege.

I guess there’s no going back now. “I’m happy to be here.”

Mostly true.Somewhat shaken.

His hand slides over my lower back, guiding me inside. “Good girl, Ivy. Let’s eat.”

While his rasp, assurance, and touch all breed a burgeoning of home in my heart, it dawns on me, now that I’m in the know, this doesn’t read like a five-year arrangement. I might not have sold myself as arm candy, but I think these men own me all the same.

WELLS

Ivy has been here for a couple of days, and we’ve all settled into a rhythm. We’ll be traveling to New Orleans tomorrow, so plans are on track. With so many loose ends to tie, I’ve had less time with my leading lady than I’d like, but it’s probably for the best.

I’ve had years to learn her, admire her, obsess over her. Crave her smell and her taste. Long for her touch.

She’s even better—utter perfection. A goddamn masterpiece.

But she needs time to crave me the same way so that when she’s officially mine, she’ll believe she chose this regardless of how skewed that truth is.

The waves of pulsing electricity constantly crackling between us suggest it won’t take long, but closing that energized space too rapidly would be a mistake. It can’t happen until she’s prepared to fight.

She’s the storm. I need her to clear the path for us.

Not every aspect of Ivy’s arrival has been as smooth as I’d prefer, but I can’t say that’s unexpected. Gage steers clear of her like she’s a plague. That’s going to take some time.

His life disintegrated at the hands of the one person he trusted to be his future. She buried his trust in humanity, especially women, right along with his gentle-hearted corpse.

He has plans to rectify that, but I’ve put those on hold until our business withIvy is completed. So, unfortunately, my girl glimmers like nothing more than a deceitful, shiny obstacle to Gage. But if anyone can take him on without crumbling, it’s my Little Storm. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.

At the moment, I’m sneaking around in the kitchen, marinating steaks for tonight’s dinner and quietly eavesdropping on Ivy and Liam conversing in the great room. The couch is angled in a catercorner position, allowing me to see Ivy’s face without her noticing I’m here. As of yet anyway.

“Hey.” Liam taps her thigh. “Your eyes are open, but no one’s home. It’s creeping me out.”

“Sorry,” she says, curled up near him on the couch, a half cushion away. Too damn close for my liking. “I have a whole other world up here that sucks me in when I least expect it. And often against my will. It’s like trying to hold on to grains of sand.”

Holding grains of sand.

---