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Two from bullet wounds.

I was head of security at Salvatore Global. The team of mercenaries I commanded handled high-risk jobs around the world. In my line of work, it was important not to have attachments. But Alex was a weakness all of us shared.

I stripped off my pants and laid them on the chair back. Alex’s head snapped to me as I approached the bed in a pair of black boxer briefs. Desire scrolled across her face. Her gaze flicked between my chest and my cock, which was getting hard with each sexy look she gave me.

“I won’t hurt you,” I promised and meant it.

I’d never forced myself on her, never even kissed her. Bastian and Damian didn’t hold the same grudge against her family as Luca and me. The Wellingtons had taken something precious from us. Something no amount of money could fix. That was why Carl Wellington had agreed to the union.

It wasn’t her fault, but I still wasn’t ready to let go. Either was Luca. His rage fueled him, made him hate even the sight of Alex. She was only here because we were running out of time and options.

After Wellington had struck the deal with my father, he plucked Alex and her twin from a small town in the Midwest. She lived with her abusive mother, who Carl had disowned when she married outside of the Founding Families. They lived a life of poverty. Her mother a struggling artist, her dad a waste of space architect who couldn’t draw a straight line.

Alex was like my mother.

A natural, talented.

Her childhood had fucked her up, and much like my mother, she had her moments. It took little to trigger her PTSD. A sound. A smell. The slightest thing could garner a reaction from Alex.

We had to be careful with her.

This time, she might break.

I lifted the duvet and slipped beneath the sheets. “I’m staying for your protection, Alex. I won’t touch you.”

She rolled onto her side to face me. “Why are you being nice? Do you want something? Is this part of some master plan?”

“No.”

I reached over, flicked off the lamp on the beside table, and a whimper escaped from her lips.

“Can you light a candle?”

The dark terrified Alex. A side effect of being locked in closets and dark spaces by her mother. She may have hated me and my brothers. Maybe even hated her grandfather. But her new life was a vast improvement from the one she had before she met us.

“Close your eyes,” I told her. “It’s time to get over your fear.”

“I need music to fall asleep,” she lilted. “Can you at least put something on from my Spotify playlist?”

I knew everything about Alex. It was my job to watch over her, make sure she was safe. Every night for years, she’d fallen asleep to Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake.

I slid off the bed and grabbed the phone from my pants pocket. Seconds later, orchestra music floated through the speaker.

“This is my favorite ballet,” she said as I set the phone on the table and got back into bed. “The story is so heartbreaking. When I was younger, I compared myself to Odette, the swan maiden. I dreamed of a handsome prince that would come save me.”

“You got your wish,” I told her. “You got four handsome princes.”

She sighed. “Lucky me.”

By the time the waltz ended, she was dead to the world.

The darkness consumed me, swallowing me whole as I sank to the floor and pulled my knees into my chest. I blinked a few times to clear my vision, pinching the skin on my forearm.

“Wake up, Alex. Not real,” I whispered, but it was no use.

Nothing.

Same as the last time.


Tags: Jillian Frost Princes of Devil's Creek Erotic