Page 32 of Point Proven
Simon whipped his head to me. “Aw, shortcakes can’t keep up?” Pointing at my box, he smirked. “Probably all those damn?—”
Shoving him, I flipped him off. “It’s not my fault you are both fucking giants! I’m breaking a sweat!”
“Need me to carry you?” Thorne asked with a playful wink.
“No! Then you would smush thepresent,” I whispered the last word, narrowing my eyes at them.
Snapping his head in my direction, Thorne’s brows narrowed. “You did not.”
“Yes. Yes, I did. It’s?—”
“We’re here. I mean, assuming tweedle dee and tweedle dum are guards.” Simon jutted his thumb to the appointed men, guns slung across their shoulders as if it was casual to have them out.
Thorne blew out a frustrated breath as he looked at me. “Forfucking once,could you listen to what I ask of you?”
“I just wanted…” Biting my lip, I nodded. “Okay.”
His jaw feathered, and it was then I realized he was genuinely upset with me. Pivoting on his heel, he turned to the guards. “Good to see you both again. We have a meeting with Levander this morning. Is he available?”
“Yeah, he’s been expecting you.”
“Expecting us? Fancy…” Simon mused, crossing his arms over his chest as he glanced at Thorne. “Well, ready?”
With one last glance between us, Thorne nodded at the man who’d spoken and dipped his chin. Responding accordingly, the soldier shifted and opened the door for us.
Levander leaned against an ornate cherry wood desk, a glass of whiskey tucked neatly in his hand, a lit cigarette resting against the cup—smoke billowed from the ember, pluming up and around his face.
He was fuckingyoung.
Dressed in a pair of black slacks, the attention to detail was stunning, unlike the rest of this place. His suit was tailored well, sitting perfectly on his hips, and his cream shirt was tucked into the waistband, not a wrinkle in sight. Clinking a ring against the drink, he raised it to his lips.
Freckles dotted his pink-tinged cheeks, highlighting his youthfulness. Taking a sip, a glint of silver greeted me, and I realized it was his capped canines.
Raising a brow, the flames of his hair were stark in contrast to his pallid skin. Tousled messily, yet styled perfectly, his curls rested just above his shoulder, bangs of auburn brushing against his forehead.
And despite my best interest, I caught myself staring; I expected him to be an old fart.
Simon elbowed my side, and I flicked my gaze to him. Wiggling his brows, I knew he felt the same.
“Gentlemen,” Levander crooned, placing the glass on his desk before taking a drag of his cigarette, only to put it out on his hand as Thorne did that night on our balcony. Dropping it against the ashtray, his olive gaze darted between Simon and me. “And these are?”
“Oren, my fiancé, and Simon, one of my ex-squad members.”
Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he lifted two fingers, and as if they were a verbal demand, the doors shut behind us. “Mmm. Do they not know how to speak? Are they mute?”
“Oh… I wasn’t sure whether we needed to wait to be asked to speak. Like the movies,” Oren said.
Levander’s dark brows dropped slightly, but the corner of his mouth curled. “Did your homework, huh?”
I grinned. “Yes, maybe.” Extending the box to him, I could almost feel Thorne’s gaze burrowing into mine. “For you.”
“A gift?” Levander crooned, walking toward me. Coming to a stop, he went to take the box, but instead of his fingers curling around it, they slipped through my hair as he slammed me into the wall. “Do you have afuckingdeath wish?”
Swallowing, I bit the inside of my cheek. “No.”
He swallowed my frame, towering over me by almost another foot. While his height was impressive, his lithe frame was smaller than mine. It didn’t matter though, because he was intimidating as hell.
The cold press of metal greeted my temple, followed by the release of a safety. “You know how many men have brought‘gifts’to me with the intention of ending my existence? How about I end yours?”
