“Okay, I have to go,” Alejandro walks away and I run after my brothers. They stuff Damion into the back of Ilkay’s truck.
“Where are you taking him?” I shout, folding my arms around me, suddenly feeling cold.
“I can’t believe you touched this guy’s junk in public.” Jackson chortles, ignoring my question.
“Shut the fuck up dude,” Logan grunts, getting into the truck. I guess he’s going to need some time to accept that his best friend is dating his little sister.
“Go into the house,” Enrique’s eyes show clearly that he’s angry at me, “and stay the fuck there.”
Axel gives my arm a little squeeze when he walks past. Normally, I would never yield to my brothers’ commands … but something tells me that this time I need to do as they say.
Deimos puts his arm around me.
“Mel, let them go.” I watch the truck driving away.
“Are you okay with that?” I ask softly, turning my head up to look at him.
“It’s a boy thing … they need to get things out of their system.” The ambiance in his eyes says so much more than his words, “And I’ve sent someone to cover him, just in case.”
Date = 22 November
Place = San Francisco (Inferno)
POV – Damion
“Hey, it’s Damion Grimm,” some guy says to his date and points. Fuck. I smile faintly as they walk past, feeling the pull of the scab on my lower lip. “He looks like shit.”
“I thought he was still in hospital,” he continues as they are walking down the red carpet.
“I heard he was tied to a pole in his underwear.” People are going to remember that one for a while. Damn, assholes.
“Heard he nearly died though.” The twins look uncomfortable. Yeah, the ‘nearly-died’ part scared them so good, they agreed to me dating their sister.
“He looks rather bad,” the girl adds looking back over her shoulder. I grinch, whilst the twins beam conceitedly at me as if they just got laid. They did it. Stripped me to my Calvin Klein, taking turns to fight me. And then they tied me to a pole – exposed.
“You do look rather bad,” Enrique huffs and straightens the jacket of my suit. Cameras flash frantically from the other side of the stanchions. I stick out two fingers and press them to the purple-blue skin on the side of his right eye. He winches.
“You don’t look so good yourself.” Enrique I handled. Logan fought in anger – which is never a good idea. Ilkay ruffed me up a whole bit.
I stretch my body a little – even though most of the stiffness is gone, my ribs are still very tender – and my face and body look like a Van Gogh painting. Mostly thanks to Jackson.
“Yeah, I had to cancel a shoot, asshole.” And I nearly kicked the bucket. We all have our problems.
“Oh, so now I’m the asshole?” I flip.
“No, you were the asshole all along,” Enrique says with a snarky grin. “Putting your D to our sister’s V and all.”
“I told you, I haven’t been in her pants yet.” The brothers growl concurrently.
Some more couples pass us, trying to not outrightly stare … but we let it fly by. It’s a part of our daily lives … an irritating part of being famous. However, tonight it might be because of our bruised faces – mine and Enrique’s.
“Hell, bro,” Noah walks up to us, “You look like a painting.” His expression has a satirical quality – somewhere between appalled and disturbed. At least someone in this group is normal.
“Thanks,” Jackson rivets, “I was trying to ingrain my turbulent state of mind.” I snort and stare at the daylilies growing against the wall – in full bloom – forming an ocean of diverse shades ranging from orange to scarlet. He did a real number on me … BUT … I also know he was holding back. Unlike with Graham at the race, he didn’t break any of my bones.
Cars park and go, dropping dressed-up students for the freshmen gala as if in a slow-motion dream.
Oh, dreaming is nothing new for me – not since the little blonde solidly stole my heart and soul, and misconfigured my sense of reality.
“Earth to Damion!” I turn my head when Jackson bumps me with his fist on my arm. Logan is still sulking, even after what they did to me, so Jackson took his place as Kiara’s companion for the night.
I blink a few times and then notice the waiter standing next to me holding a tray filled with glasses of golden liquid which shines in the light from the intricate wrought-iron street lamps. The poor guy is openly gandering at my face.
“Thanks,” I greet the shocked waiter with a nod of my head. He’s been working at Inferno for a while now.
Since Kiara is head of the organization of this party, Enrique made his club available for free. I look at the 3 men holding up their hands for a toast. I stretch my arm into the air and my glass clings against theirs.
“To getting laid!” Enrique shouts with a big smirk.
“NOT you,” Jackson says quickly and stares straight at me, a killer look in his eyes. Well, he’s not getting any either from his date.
“Guess you and me are both running dry then,” I tip my glass at him, then take a small sip from my drink. Until now, I haven’t even thought about that – not that I don’t want to cause I seriously do – BUT I’ll never press Mel to have sex. She’s so fucking innocent, I was the first ever to touch her boobs. My mind drifts to those perky perfect tits and a big goofy smile spreads over my face.
BAM!
My head whiplashes forward and I spill some of my drink.
“Stop thinking of my sister naked.” Jackson gives me a stern look. How the hell does he know what I’m thinking?
I hold up my hands, conceding defeat – I don’t want to get into a fight with him again. At least the brothers accepted me dating Mel … even Logan. Although he acts as if he hasn’t, I know him – he’s upset because they nearly killed me and it’s going to take some time for my BFF to get over the guilt. Oh, I will let him suffer for a little bit before kicking his ass back into gear.
Enrique’s date arrives, a beautiful brunette who models with him while studying part-time. The press pushes the velvet ropes, used for crowd control, as far as they can, to take pictures of the couple. A few hundred photographers are boxed in on both sides of the carpet leading from the drop-off zone to the entrance, hoping for that perfect shot.
The press loves Enrique – he’s San Francisco’s golden boy – unlike the rest of us, he doesn’t mind the attention that much. However, Enrique is not the big playboy social media portrays him to be. None of us are. Oh, we screw around a lot, but only about a quarter of what’s published. That’s the way the system works – everything gets blown out of proportion.
My throat contracts, knowing that soon I will be photographed with Mel and have to answer their questions-and there are going to be a lot of them.
Enrique introduces his date to us, but my mind drifts as I stare at the incoming limo.