He nodded and followed me up front.
“So, between my work for the Marked Man and Avery’s boutique, I’m getting requests to do more design work. And I wondered if it was okay to use the laptop in the evenings to do it.” I took a quick breath and continued. “If you want, I can run the revenue through the shop, not that it’s much now but—”
“Enough, Lila.” His lips quirked in the ghost of a smile. “Do what you want with the computer. And keep the money. You do great designs.”
Dare had never been a fan of the computer.
“Thanks, boss, I appreciate it.” I started to say winter nights were lonely, but I clamped my mouth shut before I made a fool of myself.
I jumped into my new design work to deal with the long January nights. I had three other shops as clients, and Jericho had hired me to design some pieces for Bound. I’d never been to a sex club, or dungeon, whatever they were called, and it intrigued and scared me at the same time. However, the images I created excited me. They were provocative, bold and modern. I thought they were my best work, but all the projects fired me up. And my heartache took a backseat to my new passion.
My life was full with things I’d never considered possible—good friends, a loose affiliation with the Brotherhood, design work, my job and more invitations to go out than I could accept.
Zayn came up for a vote this month, which he told me meant he could go from slave meat to full brother. All week he was quiet and tense, but I knew he’d be voted in the first time—he bled the Brotherhood. I baked him some peanut butter cookies and promised to come to the club to celebrate when he received his cut. He’d grinned and crossed his fingers.
After we closed the Marked Man, I spent the night at home doing my normal Sunday chores. Zayn would be calling me to celebrate tomorrow. I was confident even if he wasn’t. Around two I climbed into bed too tired to read my newest mystery. As I was about to drift off, something banged outside my door. I sat up, worried someone might be breaking in.
Damn. I never bought that bat.
A thud outside on the landing made me jump. My pulse raced and fear cramped my stomach. I crept to my peephole and looked out.
Dare sat slumped next to the wall, a bottle of whiskey in his hand.
Son of a bitch. Anger replaced the fear.
He showed up here drunk after he’d thrown me away. I threw open my door and stalked out.
“What the hell?”
He glanced up with bloodshot eyes. Anger and hurt swirled in his changing expressions. “How do you do it?”
At least he didn’t slur his words.
“Come in and tell me what you’re talking about.” I wasn’t about to let him drive anywhere in his condition.
“No, I—”
“Come in.” I didn’t make it a request. “It’s the least you can do after scaring ten years off my life.”
He mumbled something, but stood and followed me inside.
I went straight to the kitchen and put together a turkey sandwich. Then I grabbed him some water and pain reliever. He needed to sober up. I studied him as I closed the distance to where he slumped on my couch.
His honey-colored hair hung in his face, and his chin had the start of a beard, a lot more hair than I’d ever seen on his face. His jeans were dirty and his shirt rumpled. Despite all of it, I wanted him more than I ever had.
It would be easy to seduce him, it looked like he needed it. And I knew I did. The day after, though, wasn’t worth the pleasure of the moment. He’d been clear about what he wanted, or didn’t want in this case.
He glanced up at me.
“Eat this.” I shoved the plate toward his hands.
He took it, frowning at me. “First take these.” I handed him pain relievers and a bottle of water.
“What? You feel guilty?” He swallowed the pills, glaring at me.
“About what?”
He bit into his sandwich, but his gaze burned me. Anger. Hurt. And something more. “You fucking my best friend.”
His accusation pissed me off. It was his stupid fault I even had to hide behind Jericho. And if he was so concerned about who I fucked, why didn’t he fuck me.
“You talk to Jericho about it?” I’d told him not to let Dare believe this shit.
“Of course.” He scowled, and if I didn’t know him, I’d be scared. “He said I passed twice, but he wasn’t passing.”
Goddam Jericho. How could he do this?
“Said we’d shared plenty of women in the past. To get right with it.” He shot me a deadly look. “How long did you wait before fucking him?”
A mean part of me wanted to say he sent Jericho to me, but I couldn’t be that person. I’d never been that person.