Chapter 22

                                    

                                          
The following evening Kian has a catering company put on a big spread, and we all eat around the dining table, like one big happy family. No one says anything, but it appears this is the extent of the celebrating they are going to do for Dami's birthday. The conversation is casual, easy, and as everyone is finishing up and it quietens down, I speak up.
"I think it's extremely unfair no-one celebrated Dami's birthday yesterday and I think we all need to go out and have a good time to make up for it." Dami's startled gazed meets mine, I didn't exactly run this by him, but the injustice of everyone ignoring him yesterday sits like a weight on my chest, and I'm not just going to let everyone forget about it.
"Go out?" Kian says, arching an eyebrow. He sits at the head of the table, lounging back in his chair with that air of casual arrogance that always surrounds him. 
"I've been here over two weeks now, have I not proven myself yet? Besides, if you all come there is no risk of me escaping." Dami's eyes light up at the thought, I know he loves to chase me. Kian actually appears to be considering it, peering over at me from behind his whiskey, his eyes assessing.
"Where would you want to go?" He asks.
"Well that would be up to Dami, but I would suggest a club."
"I'm out, I don't go out to clubs." Danny says, pushing away from the table to start clearing away the dishes. I look after him curiously, because I know he's chatting absolute shit.
"Then how come you were at one that night we first met?" Plates clatter in the sink and Danny flicks his eyes over to Dami. My eyes bounce between the two, wondering why they're being so weird. Neither of then answer immediately and goosebumps prickle up my arms. "Well?" I demand, turning to look Dami right in the eye, knowing he's the most like to break and tell me, but his eyes are hard as he shakes his head at Danny.
Danny sighs heavily, Dami glares daggers at him as he begins to talk, "We were there on a job."
"What was the job?"
"Does it matter?" Kian drawls. I meet each of their gazes. I realise it doesn't matter, I don't want to know the answer. Whatever the reason they were, it's the reason I'm here now. Gray eyes clash with mine, pleading with me to not pry any deeper. He's already bared himself to me, been vulnerable in ways I know he's never been with anyone else. He loves me and if doesn't think I need these particular answers then I trust him. Does it matter where we met, when there is nowhere else I would rather be. 
Danny wanders back over to the table, he comes to my side, filling up my wine glass. "Well sweetheart, does it matter?" I shake my head, staring at the table and he bends down and kisses my forehead. "Good girl." In my periphery, Kian nods his head. Danny grips my chin, tilting my head up so our lips brush, "Go slip into something sexy sweetheart. Let's show Dami a good time." He kisses me softly and then pulls out my chair. The atmosphere has definitely shifted, the guys all now sitting it a stilted silence. Kian watching me curiously, his eyes assessing as I leave and head to my room to get ready.
An hour later I've slipped into a dress to match Dami's eyes and some delicate strappy heels. I'm feeling badass in a red lip and sharp wing and I'm excited to accessorise with a man on each arm. Perhaps if Kian is in such a generous mood, maybe I can ask for my phone and call Ivy to meet up with us, that would really make it a party.
I hop downstairs, eager to be out of these walls for the first time in over two weeks. I pause on the bottom step. God, I can't believe it has really been that long. I'd barely noticed that that much time had passed. Despite the fact that I'd been holed up in my rooms for days, I guess I hadn't minded as I ate up their scraps of attention and they made me come. 
I'm just about to step back into the kitchen when James's voice stops me.
"We need to let her go." I freeze, flattening myself against the wall, my heart racing.
"No." Kian's gruff voice is final.
"Come on Kian."
"We still can't trust her out on her own and Dami is still sorting the police."
"That's bullshit. He had the chief of police here—"
"Regardless," Kian's voice is sharp as a knife as he interrupts him. "She's too much of a risk."
"You need to make a damn decision about her. Damian's getting attached. You remember what happened last time he became obsessed with a girl."
"I remember." He snaps, "It's the entire reason we moved out here. But I still don't trust her." I frown, what more do I have to do to prove myself to this man, I haven't put a foot put of line. My heart is racing with hot, fierce indignation now as I swing myself round the door and into the kitchen.
"You trust me enough to go out tonight though?" They both look up as I enter, they haven't moved from where they were sat at the table at dinner, a half empty bottle of scotch sits between them.
"How much did you hear?"
I lift one shoulder, "Enough." Their gaze is heavy and assessing, but I refuse to back down. Kian slowly stands, firmly placing his empty glass on the table with a thud. Stalking over to me, I don't let any fear show, not even when he brings his hand up to collar my throat.
"How about you forget everything you heard? Maybe then I will trust you enough to let you go." I meet his piercing blue eyes, let him read what he wants from me. 
"Is that what you want?" James asks.
"What?" I ask, blinking out the trance Kian's eyes had me in.
"Do you still want to leave?" He repeats.
"Of course." Kian's fingers flex against my pulse and gaze flicks over my head before warm hands slip around my waist. 
"You don't really want to leave me, do you princess?" Kian tilts my head to look at Dami, almost forcing us to kiss.
"I wouldn't be leaving you. I just don't want to be a prisoner any more." I admit on a whisper. Those grey eyes are hard and guarded and I know it's not the answer he wanted.
"And yet our prisoner you are." Kian murmurs, "Have her home before midnight." His hand drops from my throat and he walks away, leaving me strangely bereft, despite the warm body at my back.