Chapter 118 Want

Chapter 118 Want
Animkii turned his attention to Olivia. "I believe I told you, Ms. Langley, not to show your face anywhere I would be."

Olivia cleared her throat. "You... I didn't think you were—"

"You're still here." Animkii cut her off, his tone hard and soft.

Olivia jumped off her barstool, ducked her head, and scurried out the glass door rather than go past him. 

To be fair, Animkii was fucking terrifying when he wanted to be, and Olivia had killed any mercy Animkii could hold for her as a woman when she’d broken Mason’s heart. 

"Eva," Animkii bit out. "I certainly hope you had nothing to do with Amber's breaking and entering Dorian's home and the destruction of his property?"

"It was an accident. The shelves—"

"Eva," Animkii whispered, prowling towards her. "Get out."

She cleared her throat, grabbed her purse, and followed Olivia just as Amber came downstairs.

She cast a flirty look at Dorian. "Think about what you stand to lose, Dorian... You know I always get what I want, and Knox Industries isn't doing so great these days, you know?"

He hadn’t known that, and he really didn’t give a damn. He hadn’t invested a single dollar in Knox Industries.

Amber sauntered toward the door, before stopping to look up at Animkii. "You know, it's a shame—"

"That I have impeccable taste and would never lower myself to consort with a bottom-feeder knowingly? Yes. I thank my parents and say prayers every day, Ms. Reynolds, and do know that the bill will be hefty for this stunt."

She flushed and left into the night, too shameless or too stupid to be scared. What had he ever seen in her? 

A few beats of silence passed before the door to Lydia’s room creaked open. He dragged his gaze to Lydia, but she was already tapping away at her watch. 

“Those cameras have audio?”

“They do.” Though he wasn't sure if they'd been recording. Dorian blinked. “Why?”

She waved her wrist. “Well… they said some pretty terrible things. I figured you’d need it for something. Even cultists need paper trails, right?”

Animkii chuckled. “We do.”

She grimaced. “Just don’t judge me?”

Animkii laughed and glanced at Dorian. “You all right? You could pack a bag and come stay with me, of course.”

Dorian bit his lip, glancing around his living room. “I—”

“You’re bleeding!” Lydia gasped and ran to the hallway bathroom.

Dorian frowned and looked down, wincing. He’d sort of forgotten about the glass he’d stepped in and sighed as the dull throb made itself known. A small pool had formed around his foot.

"I think I'll leave you to be doted upon." Animkii patted him on the shoulders as he headed to the door. “I’ll replace your locks and get your security upgraded.” 

"Ani—”

“Do not sabotage yourself.” Animkii flicked him in the forehead. “Tell your girlfriend—and it better stay that way—to send the recording to me.”

Dorian grimaced, but he couldn’t muster up the words when Lydai came back, dragging the new rolling chair he’d bought from the room he planned to convert into another office for her. 

She waved him into it. “Sit! What are you waiting for?”

He sighed and sank into the chair, pushing himself with his uninjured leg down the hallway to the sound of drills and whatever else Animkii’s team was doing.

Lydia guided him into the bathroom and turned him so he could hook his leg into the tub while she crouched to turn on the faucet.

“You should pack that bag. I’ll clean up—”

“Lydia,” he cut in, searching for the words. “I… I didn’t…” 

She frowned up at him. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean for you to walk in and have to deal with that. I’m sorry.”

She blinked and blinked again before chuckling. “You can’t predict being broken into. Rule one of a home invasion is to get out, Dorian.”

She tugged his leg under the water’s flow and inspected the damage. 

“Will I live?”

“Have you had your tetanus shots?”

Dorian laughed. “I’ve been vaccinated for everything that exists.”

“I’d say you have a good chance then.” She waved a pair of tweezers. “Not a baby, are you?”

“Only with mamãe.”

She smiled. “Mom’s are good for that.”

She pulled the glass from his foot and rinsed it some more before applying ointment and bandaging it.

"I'll get the glass and blood up while you pack a bag, hm?"

"Lydia, we need to— you wanted to talk about something."

Her cheeks reddened as she stood. “We… don’t have to do that now. I—uh— you should really—”

“Is it about why your accent is so good?” Dorian tilted his head. “Or…”

“It’s not… important right now.” She shifted her weight. “It can wait. You definitely need to decompress after all of this, and obviously I should get that oil out of your plaster and—”

Dorian pulled her forward into his lap. She landed with a nervous, adorable squeak and refused to look at him. Her cheeks fully flushed, head ducked like she'd do anything to disappear into the floor. He licked his lips, wondering how far that flush spread beneath the collar of his shirt.

“This flustered side of you… is really doing something for me.”

She glowered at a spot on the floor but didn't look up. 

“You'll be mad is that oil stains the plaster."

“The disaster that is my kitchen and living room will anger me for years to come, long after I move out.”

She jerked her head up. “You'd move out? Over her?”

“Not for her. For me.” He lifted a shoulder. “I'm considering it.”

“Salt and sage the place.”

He snorted. “Smells fragrant.”

“Yes, but between that and whatever high-density, fort-level locks Ani's installing, you should be good.”

“I'll need a new bed.”

She blinked. “She was… in your bed?”

Dorian grimaced. “Knowing her… it's more likely than not.”

She cupped his jaw, stroking his cheek. "You're not staying here tonight."

His lips twitched. “Those orders?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Would you respond to them favorably if they were?”

“Probably not.”

“Then they’re a strongly worded suggestion for the sake of getting a good night’s sleep before you have to practice on bad feet tomorrow.” Lydia's eyes softened. "A request I could sweeten with your choice of food... I'm pretty sure I could convince Reign to guide me through mousse de maracuja, or something."

His heart quivered, and he really wished he was drunk so he could have an excuse for not having the good sense to end this rather than being the selfish, greedy ass he promised himself not to be. 

He leaned forward, resting his forehead on Lydia’s shoulder. 

“What are you doing to me?” The words came out wretched and cracking. 
“Hopefully… something you want.”

Dorian shut his eyes because fuck. Fuck. He wanted.
He wanted every part of the sweet torture that would be falling in love with Lydia Fucking Baker.
And he couldn't guess when this desire had started or how to stop it, but he had to figure it out.
For her sake.
“I think you’re right… We should definitely hold off."
Fucking coward.