"I make you Chorizo con papas. You love it, trust me." She scoots to the fridge and removes several articles of food.
"I hope you can make enough for everyone, Teresa. There’s seven more still sleeping," Blake says, amused, as he sits next to me.
"Of course, Mr. Mason, but I make hers special." She turns and winks at me.
I've never met someone like her. Mexico wasn't kind to us during the four months I spent there a few years ago. I like this woman.
15
~Lily~
An hour later, I'm stuffed, sipping from a bottle of water. The team hasn't joined us, and Blake's still eating. Teresa turns to me, hands on her hips, face expectant.
"Well? What you think?" Her accent might be the single most adorable thing I’ve ever heard, especially mixed with her attitude.
"I can see why Mr. Mason hired you." I chuckle. "That might be the best thing I've eaten, ever."
She beams, pride and satisfaction saturating her face.
"Good. I leave the rest in the warmer for your team. Mr. Mason, I got to do laundry today, I'll be there if you need me," she says, strolling toward his bedroom.
Blake stands and picks up my bowl.
"I can get that."
"Relax. I got it," he says sternly.
"Thank you, Mr. Mason."
He drops the dishes with a loud clank, spinning around to glare at me. "If you call me 'Mr. Mason' one more fucking time, Lily, I swear to God, I'm going to lose my shit. Blake. Understand? Save that formal shit for your team’s benefit."
"Blake," I snap. "If you talk to me like that again, I'm going to lose my shit, which will be far worse than you losing yours."
His eyes narrow. "Fine, just stop with the formalities, please."
"When we're alone, fine. In front of the team, though, you're still Mr. Mason."
"Okay."
"Good." I look down at my hands. "I'm sorry about the incident with Miranda. It won't happen again."
"You have nothing to apologize for. I heard what she said. She won't be coming back here again."
I bring my gaze up to his.
"Don't think about it, Lily."
"Have you really slept with her?" Disgust is evident in my tone.
He sighs, and nods his head. "Yes. Usually when I was drunk. If you haven't noticed, it isn't something her and I make public."
"Ah, Baltimore Player, huh?"
"I don't date multiple women at once, Lily, if that's what you're implying, and I've never cheated on a woman either. Miranda was something that happened when I was single and not on the market," he says sternly.
I nod my head, letting him know I get it, but that I don't want to discuss it any further. I shouldn't have asked. Whom he fucks isn't my business.
"Do you have plans for today?"
"Training. Unless you have plans . . . in which case a security detail will accompany you."
He runs his index finger over his lower lip. "I'd like to take you out."
I choke on my coffee, my hand flying up to cover my mouth, "Take me out?"
"Yes. When was the last time you went shopping? In the time you've been here, the only thing you wear is black suits, sweatpants, and black shirts." His eyes flash with amusement.
"I'm pretty sure that’ll cause more issues than either of us needs right now."
"I don't give a damn what Jax thinks. Would you allow me to take you out for the day or not?" He crosses his arms over his chest.
"We'd have to take someone else for security. Jax won't agree to me going alone after last night." I meet his gaze, blood running hot through my veins.
"Jax won't approve of you going where alone?" Sammi strides into the kitchen, the other team members following her. Jax isn't with them.
"I'd like to take Lily shopping today. I'm over the Morticia Addams, all-black wardrobe," he says to Sammi.
She presses her lips into an amused, duck face smile. "Take a second security member with you, Lily can choose. Have Jameson drive you."
"Sammi, Jax will flip his shit," I whisper, shaking my head.
"I don't care. In the event you or Jax can't make decisions, that job falls to Dresden or me. Jax is being unreasonable, and you're involved, so I'll make the choice and Dresden isn't going to object. You're going, pick someone to go with you, end of discussion." She struts to the coffee pot and makes a cup.
"I'll go with you, Lily. If you'd like," Vlad says quietly, meeting my gaze.
I sigh, loudly, rubbing my eyes. "Fine. When did you want to leave for this impromptu day of irritating the fuck out of me?"
Everyone chuckles, including Blake. "An hour good for you?"
"Whatever. I hope you know, I hate shopping, crowds, and rich assholes who feel the need to fix everyone's wardrobe issues."
"Duly noted, Miss Williams," he says with a shit-eating grin on his face.
Oh, Blake, if those lips weren't so soft, I'd punch you right in the mouth.
†††
So far, Blake's dragged me into Aeropostle, American Eagle, and Express. I've been in-and-out of dressing rooms, and fought with him over sleeveless shirts more often than necessary. Refusing to explain why I only wear long sleeves has put him in a foul mood, and he's quiet as we sit in Red Robin for lunch.
Vlad's on guard outside the restaurant, since it's located inside a food court, and the walls are glass. I sit, slowly munching on french fries, and despite my best efforts, every few minutes my eyes betray me, stealing a glimpse of Blake's chiseled face, admiring the way he runs his index finger over his bottom lip as he watches me.
"What's your favorite Disney movie?"
I stare at him, my eyes wide. "Um, I don't have one," I mutter, popping another french fry into my mouth.
"How do you not have a favorite Disney movie? Everyone has a favorite Disney movie."
My face warms. "I've never seen any Disney movies, so, hard to pick one."
"Wait . . . you've never seen a Disney movie. Never? Not even the classics, like Snow White or Fantasia?"
I shake my head. With no memory of my life before the age of eight, I might’ve seen one before, but have no way of knowing.
"Nope, sorry. I don't know what those two movies are." I shrug my shoulders, taking a sip of soda.
Blake huffs and rolls his eyes. "Well, I think we need to fix that. Come on." He stands and holds out his hand.
I want to take it, but the thought makes my own hands tremble. My stomach clenches in remembrance of the charity event and the way his hands felt in mine. Slowly, I place my hand in his, taking a deep breath. He squeezes my fingers, gently.
"Is it too much?"
"No . . . it's okay."
Blake and I meet Vlad just outside the doors. He glances at my hand and back at my face. Raising his eyebrows, he grins. I shrug my shoulders as Blake pulls me through the food court toward the elevator.
We step inside, and my body tenses. Blake gives me a questioning stare.
"She doesn't usually do elevators, sir," Vlad says in a low tone.
"I never noticed before," Blake muses.
"She hides it well most of the time, sir."
I shoot Vlad a glare, shaking my head.
Let's keep my personal information to ourselves, please. Shithead.
"You don't like to be touched, you don't like elevators, and you don't like talking about yourself. You hate shopping, anything other than long sleeves and pants, and you hate makeup. Is there anything you do like?" Blake tilts his head to the side.
"Yes, sir," I say sweetly. "You just won't find them in a mall."
I scurry out of the elevator as soon as the door opens, pulling Blake behind me. Vlad chuckles, and follows. Walking to the Disney Store, Blake absently trails his thumb across my knuckles. It's the first time someone's touch hasn't sent me running for the hills in a long time, and I find it hard to concentrate. He drags me over to a large wall, laden with DVD's. His eagerness is contagious, and I smile up at him as he glances from me to the movies
.
"Okay, pick some movies. Then, we're going back to the apartment to rectify your outrageous situation," he says practically bouncing in place.
I chuckle at his excitement. Running my index finger along my bottom lip, I scan the rows of movies. Blake watches me intently. I've never heard of any of these. He taps his foot, and I glance back at him.
"What?"
"How long are you going to stare at them before you pick some?"
"I don't know what the hell to pick." I laugh. "You pick."
"Fine." He strolls forward and grabs five DVDs. "Let's go."
"What did you pick?"
"I'll show you when we get back to the apartment." He smirks.
I narrow my eyes. "You realize I don't care for surprises, right?"
"I do. You realize I don't care, and I think someone has to have some balls where you're concerned. Do people always do everything you tell them?" He tilts his head to the side again, and arrogance flashes across his face.
"Yes, they do. If they don't, I make them. Very simple equation, Blake."
He breaks into a seductive smile. A lumps forms in my throat and my face heats, again.
"I still love how that sounds," he whispers, his eyes sweeping up and down my body.
I fidget with my fingers, glancing down at the floor. "Keep looking at me like that and I'll go back to calling you Mr. Mason."
He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "One day, I'm going to break down your walls and then we'll see how much you hate that look."
The muscles in my lower stomach clench in a way I've never experienced before.
Is that a threat or a promise?
†††
I'll never understand why someone needs a 136-inch projection screen. Life-size cartoon characters are a bit much. He's got damn near every game console ever made, including an old school Atari. Rhett gave me a lecture on the Atari once, which is the only reason I know what it is. I also know the Xbox One and PlayStation 4. Dresden and Vlad take theirs everywhere to pass the time on long flights.
There’s also a computer, Ping-Pong table, pool table, darts, and skee-ball.
Who the fuck has skee-ball put in their apartment?
"Sit with me."
He's in the middle of a circular sectional, his right ankle crossed over his left knee. I stare at him, fear and heat running through my veins, making my breathing shallow. He smiles gently, patting the cushion next to him. My legs are lead as I walk to the couch and sit, my body tense.
He points a remote at the DVD player next to the projection screen, and it kicks to life, a blue background illuminating the screen. I glance at him as he picks up a different, smaller remote, presses a button, and the lights in the room dim. There’s no window, so as the movie begins, we're covered in almost total darkness.
An odd pulling sensation, the one I've felt around him before, starts in my stomach. I have the overwhelming urge to reach over and touch him, but my hands are shaking so hard I'm afraid to move. A slow sunrise grows on the screen, filling the room with red and gold light as some kind of African music sings through the speakers.
Blake reaches over and sits his hand atop mine, skimming his thumb over my knuckles. I take a few deep breaths and the tremors calm and within a few minutes stop. He laces his fingers with mine, and the pulling sensation between us makes my nerves stand on end, but his warmth allows me to relax and enjoy the movie.
It's actually pretty good, and really cute. I love the baboon, and laugh openly whenever he's on the screen. Blake's hand never leaves mine, and as the movie ends, the credits allow the room to darken.
"What did you think?"
I turn my face toward him, smiling. "That was adorable. What was it called again?"
"The Lion King. One of my favorites."
His eyes are alight with something I've never seen before as he stares into mine. He gives me a pointed stare as he lifts his hand into the air where I can see it.
He gently lays his palms against my cheek, and warmth seeps into my skin. Keeping his eyes on mine he leans forward, gently pressing his lips to mine. My eyes close of their own accord, and my body convulses, but Blake doesn't move. After a moment, everything slows down, and all that's left is the soft brush of his lips still on mine.
I really want him.
I move my hand, still a little shaky, running my fingers through his hair. He presses his lips against mine harder, his tongue darting out to tease my bottom lip. As mine part, he slowly possesses my mouth, and I kiss him back, willing away all the negativity and pain radiating through me. His hand moves from the side of my face to my neck, firmly holding my head in place as his tongue becomes more urgent.
Abruptly, he pulls away, his breath uneven, and rests his forehead against mine.
"You're so beautiful, Lily."
"What’re you doing to me, Blake?"
He chuckles and briefly presses his lips to mine again. I sigh as he pulls away and stands. My eyes follow him across the room as he changes the DVD, and comes to sit back down. He starts the movie, smiling at me, and takes my hand in his again.
The screen's taken over by a large ship and men talking about mermaids. I smile, willing my body to stay calm and relaxed. I've never watched movies before, and the normalcy of it all is refreshing and scary at the same time.
Maybe Sammi's right . . . maybe I'm made for more than just the auctions.
16
~Lily~
Blake decides to go into the office Thursday and Friday, and we spend all day Saturday sitting around his apartment watching movies. It’s the strangest, and most relaxing, day of my life. The team, minus Jax, joins us, and it’s the first time I've seen us all together acting like people, not agents.
Sunday morning, I sit in Blake's entertainment room. I never knew children's cartoons could be so hilarious. They really aren't appropriate though. Most of this humor is too mature, but I've laughed my ass off watching them regardless.
So far, I've watch Kung Fu Panda, Jimmy Neutron, and am now glued to SpongeBob. It's beyond stupid, but I love it. This may become my Sunday morning routine, though, that’ll require me getting cable and a television when I go home.
If you go home.
I shake my head, tuning the television out. Every day, my feelings grow stronger. I’ve no idea what I'm going to do once this assignment is over. It's not as if Blake and I are actually together. Even if we were . . .
Could I really leave Interpol to be with him?
"Good morning, beautiful."
I jump damn near a mile out of my seat, whipping around. Blake's standing in the doorway wearing pajama pants and a white tank top. He looks amazing. I keep my eyes on his face as he walks around and sinks into the cushion next to me, a smile on his lips.
"How long have you been up?"
I blink trying to regain some composure. "Since six."
"Watching cartoons?" He raises his left eyebrow.
My face heats and I'm sure my cheeks are red. "Yeah."
"Have you eaten anything, yet?"
"Uh, no."
His lips set in a hard line, eyes narrowing slightly. "Come on, let's make some breakfast. Dresden's in the kitchen playing with the coffee maker finally. It's rather amusing."
He stands and holds his hand out. I shake, but only slightly as I place mine in his and follow him into the kitchen. Sure enough, Dresden's staring at the buttons on the machine, holding a K-cup in his hand.
"This is why I've avoided this fucking machine. Why the hell can't you just have a regular coffee pot?"
I chuckle, letting go of Blake's hand. Dresden sighs as I take the K-cup, throw it in the machine, and press the buttons for it to brew the way he likes it. Weak. He only drinks coffee when he hasn't had enough sleep, other than that, it's water and beer.
"Thanks," he mutters grabbing the cup and turning to sit at the island.
Blake sits across from him as Teresa enters the kitchen, moving straight for the fridge.
&n
bsp; "Can I help you with breakfast, Mrs. Teresa?"
"Nah, you go sit, relax. I make omelets." She sets everything on the counter with a smile on her face.
I sigh in relief. I can't cook for shit.
"So, what’re your plans for today?" Blake shifts to face me.
"Training. Funny enough, I've barely done any in the last few days." I smirk.
"I wonder why?" His smile is carnal, and makes my stomach clench.
†††
Blake, Vlad, and I ride the elevator in silence, my body too exhausted to tense up. We've spent the entire day in the training room. It's late, and sleep is calling me. Stepping into the apartment, Blake and I run right into the rest of the team. They stand in the foyer, amidst a heated discussion. Vlad comes to my side, lightly touching my hand and nodding toward the group. I glance at Blake, and he follows us to the side of the entrance.
"Fifteen girls in this area have disappeared in the last forty-eight hours. They're going to auction right here in the city. This may be our only chance," Jax says, his voice louder than usual.
"Interpol will never give the green light on this, Jax. You can't fucking ask her to do it," Dresden snaps.
Oh no . . .
"It's her job. I'm not asking. This is what we do. What she does."
"No, she needs a fucking break. We've only been on this assignment for a few weeks. We'll get another opportunity."
"Sir, we don't have enough intel. It's too risky," Hayato says in a quieter tone.
"No, we won't. This isn't up for discussion. Inside sources say the auction goes down in seven days. She has to be on the inside within the next four."
"No, she doesn't. This is bullshit, and dangerous. Hayato's right. We don't know about this ring. You could get her killed," Sammi says, tears pooling in her eyes.
I think I'm going to puke.
"What ring," I say loudly.
Everyone turns, finally registering the three of us standing behind them. Pain flashes across every face except Jax. His is stone.
The Auction Block Page 10