Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (59 page)

BOOK: Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint)
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“I’ll be seventeen in October,” I answer, feeling no shame for checking out his chest. On purpose, I run my eyes over his
ripped arms and broad shoulders. Stanton growls and stomps towards the kitchen.

Gunner laughs, “That reminds me of Bianca saying she’s eight and a week
,” he taunts me. “Syn, if you’re sixteen, just say you are sixteen.”

“Dumbass,” I snarl, covering my embarrassment. “I was just warning you in case you wanted to get me a birthday gift.”

“Yeah… in four months,” he drawls. “Syn says she’s sixteen and two thirds,” Gunner chuckles to himself as he walks into the kitchen and peers into the fridge. He must feel my glare burning a hole in his back.

“Mmm… I hope she cooks better than you do,
bro. The mess hall puts out better fare than you do, and that’s saying something since I’ve been living on MREs. I’m really not feeling Morretti’s for three squares until I leave.”

“I’ve gained some
weight in the past three months.” Stanton purrs a happy sound of pleasure as he takes out the pasta salad and roasted turkey breast I made earlier. “I’m so glad you’re home, even if it’s only for a few weeks. With you here, my life feels complete.”

“Yeah, you need a woman… unless…” Gunner looks at me over his shoulder, suspiciously eyeing me.

“Don’t make me kick your ass,” Stanton snaps. “That is wrong on so many levels,” he hisses at a grinning Gunner. “…and you’re just yanking my chain.”

“OH MY GOD,” I shriek, gaining everyone’s attention.
Poor Bianca, she flinched. “I get it! I finally get why you wanted me here, Stanton. He,” I point at Gunner, “is the male version of me or I’m the female version of him.”

Stan’s warm laugh makes me blush. “How do you think I figur
ed out how to thwart your tantrums? Your shit isn’t original. Caleb did it before you and I did it before Caleb.”

The clink of plates and the slide of kitchen drawers is a homey, happy sound. Watching the brothers serve the dinner I made makes me feel content. Stanton is calmer with Caleb here, like
he trusts that the boy has his back. But I know it’s because Stanton sees Gunner and Bianca as his kids… and me, too.

“Well, I
never let sex cloud my judgment,” Gunner says to his brother before his eyes flick to me, wondering if I’ve fallen into the same trap. Stanton had just turned eighteen when my mother sunk her talons into him, and for two years she twisted him up, leaving him with a bitter broken heart and Bianca.

“Ya
gotta have sex first,” Stan teases.

“No fair!” I stomp. “Gunner’s not eighteen yet and you’re encouraging him.”
I pout when I take my seat at the table. “Pigs,” I hiss.


Ah, Stan gets all parental on you,” Gunner murmurs. “See, no matter what, Stan can’t change the fact that he is my brother, not my father. It gives me some leeway. Now, shut up and eat,” Gunner orders with a wink, pushing a plate across the table. “We have a lady at the table with delicate ears… and she ain’t you, sweetheart. I know you’ve been around a few blocks and I haven’t even left the curb yet.”

“I just figured Stanton tethered you to the
front door on a very short leash,” I grumble.

“Nah- I just wasn’t interested,” Gunner says around a huge bite of pasta. “What are we doing tonight?”

Stanton says, “Relaxing,” as I say, “I need to go out for an hour this evening.”

“No,” Stanton says immediately.

“You don’t even know where or why yet,” I whine.

“The fuck I
don’t,” Stan growls. “Roman got out of the hospital this afternoon and you want to see how he’s settling in at the Brownstone. No,” Stan quietly orders.

“Why not?”

“You can go if Julio goes,” Stan says with an evil, gloating grin.

“You
know Julio has a date tonight that took him weeks to arrange, you bast… jerk,” I say at the last second. Trying to get my way by calling Stan a bastard doesn’t sound like a good idea. Plus, calling my sister’s daddy a bastard to his face feels somewhat wrong.

“Nice save,”
Stan drawl, giving me a pissed off smirk.

“I won’t be alone,” I offer.

“I know, and that’s the problem. You will be alone with
him
.” Fork tines impale a piece of turkey in time with the word
him
. Stanton is visualizing stabbing Grant and I want to know why.

“Who is
him
?” Gunner asks, thoroughly entertained that he isn’t the object of Stanton’s control.

“I can’t wait for the day I don’t have to ask permission from anyone,” I grumble.

“That’s a long time coming,” Stanton laughs.

“A year and a third,” Gunner teases me.

I can’t help but smile at Bianca. She’s grinning from ear-to-ear, soaking in every word we say, but not knowing what we’re talking about and not caring either. She’s just happy we’re with her as she eats her supper. Usually I eat with Bianca, and she’s in bed by the time I serve Stanton his dinner late at night. If Stan doesn’t have more work to do, we hang out on the roof while she sleeps. Bianca has probably been just as lonely as I’ve been.

“Am I ever allowed to be alone with a guy for more than five seconds,” I whine, stabbing m
y plate with my fork- and I’m not stabbing at the rotini pasta any more than Stanton was stabbing the turkey. “I’m
not
that bad! I’m so lonely I could scream.”

“Yeah,
you’re allowed to be alone with every guy but two,” Stanton says, eyebrows arching in challenge. “But they seem to be the only two you
want
to be alone with.”

“Who? Ezra?”
I ask who the second guy is since I already know Stanton has some vendetta against Grant being alone with me.


Now, that’s a curiously odd choice to start with,” Stan mumbles in confusion. “Are you trying to tell me something, here? But I do trust Ezra with you,” Stan finally answers.

“O…kay… who?”
I grumble as Gunner tries hard not to laugh. I suspiciously eye the brothers- somebody’s been chatting like an old biddy.

“The kid I trust you around the most is Cortez Abernathy,” Stan says with a chuckle
. Gunner fails at not laughing and starts snorting instead. I glare at Stanton for spilling my life history to Gunner- the rat bastard! “But I would fear for his life. Now, Grant, I don’t trust you two together and that’s who you’d be spending the evening with.”

“Roman will be there,” I lamely offer.

“Yeah, Roman can’t even walk yet.” Stanton actually rolls his eyes. “Grant is seriously pissed at me. He’s been muter than you, and you haven’t said more than a string of three words at a time to me in the last two weeks. I could see Grant being naughty just for spite.”

“We must know two completely different Grants,” I mutter
, already feeling defeated as my vision of freedom poofs before my eyes.

“We do- that we do,” Stan says, his chocolate gaze trying to tell me words his mouth doesn’t speak.

“Half hour? I promise to be a good girl. It will take me ten minutes each way to walk. How much trouble can I possibly get into in the middle ten minutes?”

“Grant Whittenhower doesn’t need ten minutes or even thirty seconds. He can do a lot of damage in ten minutes,” Stan coldly says, but his voice is tinged with amusement.

“Huh?” I huff. “I don’t understand.”

“You can go,” Stan says with a
pleased smile. “One hour from the time you enter the elevator to leave.”

“Not to complain, but why did you agree?” I excitedly say
, but my voice is tinged in disbelief and confusion. It’s the first time I’ve been totally free.

“Because you didn’t understand the thirty second
Grant comment, that means he’s been telling me the truth. You’re only going because he’s been good,” Stan stresses. “Fuck it up, and no more alone time,” he warns.

“I won’t,” I chirp.

“And our moody Syn does know how to smile,” Stanton sings. “And one more reason to make you smile, I had a phone call from a friend.”

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t think you had any,” I taunt.

“HA!” Stan barks. “Here I thought you were the one without buddies. The number one guy on my list of
never alone with my teenage girl
called to chat about your welfare. Seems Wil licked his wounds and recovered from his ego-bashing.”

“What?” I squeak. “He’s the other guy?”

“Shit, Syn, I wouldn’t even want you in a room with Wil if I was in it. I almost had a heart attack seeing him sit next to you in the hospital lobby.”

“Why?”

“One word from cryptic lover boy and I’d never see you again,” Stanton grumbles. “Be good tonight, Syn.”

“I will,” I promise. “
What did Wil say?” I try to hide the quiver in my voice, but we all can hear it.

“It’s a surprise,” Stan flashes me a blinding grin. “He must really, really miss you.”

 

 

 

 

 

~Chapter Forty-Nine~

I’m free… as free as a bird. I half-skip down the street with a huge smile on my face and an elated spring in my step. After months of captivity, and I’m finally free to walk down the street. A stroll sounds like something minuscule after how I’ve lived, but it’s huge! It has been difficult to swallow the suffocating way Stanton loves and protects me after raising myself for sixteen years. I take a deep breath through my smiling lips. I don’t even care that Frankie is stalking me a few hundred paces back. He only follows me until I exit our neighborhood to enter the slightly calmer section where Roman’s Brownstone is located.

It took exactly seven minutes. I synchronized my watch with Stanton’s. I know how men are about being on time. Wil was a stickle
r for being on time. There was no arguing that his watch was three minutes fast. My neck still aches from the wrenching.

I hop up the front steps of the three story stone building. A glossy red door opens before I even get a chance to knock.
No doubt my overprotective guardian called to make sure I arrived safely.

“HI!” I chirp. “I love the gargoyle knocker.”

“He’s cute, isn’t he,” Grant agrees, making the ominous little devil clack a few times before he pulls me into the house.

“Welcome to my home,” Grant giddily says. His eyes glow bright blue with happiness. “It’s the first property I’ve ever purchased with my own money.
” Grant leans down and conspiratorially whispers, “Not Whittenhower money- the money from my writing as James Atwater. I truly did this on my own.”

Grant looks so proud
that I give him a huge hug, squeezing him for all I’m worth and sucking down his comforting scent. I know how he’s feeling. It’s the curse of the rich. Your family money is yours but you never feel the pride of earning your own way- Grant’s feeling the high right now. I have a hefty trust fund accumulating interest right now that I will never touch. It’s the money Daddy stole and the government couldn’t keep. After Momma’s death, the money became Fate’s and mine. I tried to give it all to Fate, but she is following in Daddy’s footsteps as a financial genius. She split the money in half and invested our shares. I took out the million Daddy stole from Marcus and gave it to Grant for the Zeitler house that needs rebuilt at the lake. I pretend I’m broke and save my earning at The Black Death and Morretti’s for my future.


It’s awesome- and Roman’s here, too! Marc even stopped by for a few hours. You can’t stay too long because Marcus will be back and I have no fucking clue how to explain you to him when you’ve supposedly ran away from here.”

On an ordinary day, Grant is always cheerful and friendly, but he has a tendency to draw inside himself. Today, he is glowing, vibrant- an inner-light of happiness radiates out of him with the intensity of the sun.

“I can’t stay long, anyway,” I murmur, looking at my watch. “Forty-two more minutes or less,” I grumble to Grant, a scowl pulling my lips.

“Ah, I give Stanton less than a
half hour before he’s visiting,” Grant predicts, giving me soft eyes and an understanding look. “Tour!”

I glance
around as I stand in a tiny foyer just off the front door. A long hallway runs adjacent to a set of stairs that take you to the upper floors. Doorways line the hall and a pocket door is to my left. The walls are dark wood wainscoting on the bottom and beige paint on the top. It’s very masculine.

“This door is to Roman’s side,” Grant gestures to the pocket door. “There is a similar door on the second floor separating the hall into two.
The third floor is just storage.”

I follow Grant into a room that was definitely a parlor at one time,
but now it’s filled with a mismatch of furnishings and a rosy-cheeked Roman in a hospital bed. A huge television is playing an action movie that Roman is engrossed with. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” I say to Roman to gain his attention. Since the thought of me having the hots for him freaks Roman out, I intentionally flirt with him.
After weeks of spending time together, he’s still scared of me. Being a killer will do that to your potential friends.

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