Page 48 of The Devil

He pulls on a pair of jeans over his boxers, and I watch his muscles flex as he zips them. He’s beautiful. Does he even know it? And those tattoos and scars, I want to have time to study them. Trace them. I want to know him. Know every inch of him.

“I’ve been here for almost a week.”

“And you had no doubt I’d come with you.”

“I wasn’t going to give you the option not to.”

“Of course not. Dumb question.”

“If you don’t like them, you can pick out your own things once we’re home.”

“Home as in Devil’s Peak?”

He nods.

“What about school? My classes⁠—”

“You’ve missed the entirety of the last semester, so we’ll figure out school later.”

Well, that’s about right so I don’t argue. I shift my gaze back to the clothes and pull a black sweater dress off the hanger. One thing at a time.

“Bras and panties are in that drawer, although honestly, I’m fine if you want to go without.”

“I’m sure you are.” I look through the drawer of underthings. In the months I’ve been here, I’ve been rotating through the few things I brought and spent most of my money on my second-hand cloak because Florida’s climate is a little different than Edinburgh. And I loved it the instant I saw it. All these things? They’re nice, high-quality things. Although I guess I wouldn’t expect anything less from Jethro Blackstone.

Jet pulls a charcoal cashmere sweater over his head then walks back into the bedroom to discuss something, probably the bullet holes, with Malcom. After I dress, I join them to a whistle from Malcom.

“Respect,” Malcom says and I mock-curtsy.

“Just keep an eye on your gun around her,” Jet says, looking me over appreciatively before extending his arm to wrap his hand around the back of my neck. “Ready for dinner?”

I nod, hungry, and we walk out to the hallway where another of his soldiers is waiting by the elevators. We ride down in silence, the soldier standing in the back corner. Jet doesn’t have his gun with him but I’m sure the soldier is armed.

“How many men did you bring?”

“Eight.”

“Does Cassian know yet?”

“Which part?”

“Any of it.”

“I sent a text to say you’re safe. We’ll surprise him with our happy news when we see him.”

“Not sure how happy he’ll find it but okay.”

Joe comes rushing toward us when he sees Jet. He must be a good tipper. “They’re ready for you in the dining room, Mr. Blackstone. I’m holding your preferred table at the back.”

“Great, thanks. Oh, small issue with the room,” Jet says and I snort. “Just put the repairs on my bill.”

Joe looks from Jet to me and back, but Jet doesn’t wait for a response. He just walks me to the dining room where the hostess is clearly waiting for us. Well, from the way she’s looking at him, she’s waiting for Jet. I roll my eyes. She leads us to our table. Once we’re seated, we’re handed menus which I open but Jet leaves untouched. I feel him watching me as I study the menu.

“When did you learn to shoot like that?”

“Malek did one thing right,” I say, not looking up.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call him your father.”