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“Jillian…about earlier. I’m sor—”

I wrenched away. “Save it. I don’t want to hear it. Your apology would mean nothing to me, now that I know just how little you care for my welfare.”

“Jillian,” he said again, his voice thick with emotion, and the beginnings of rage. “I would never—”

“Don’t bother. I don’t want to hear it right now.”

I opened the door myself, not able to bear another moment in his presence, knowing I’d do something crazy if I had to breathe the same air for even one more second.

I strode straight to the elevator, not looking at anyone as I punched the button to go down.

I could feel the power stirring behind me. The rage I’d provoked in him had the hair rising on the nape of my neck, but I kept my back to him. I wasn’t sad that I’d angered him. No one wanted to feel this kind of fury alone. I supposed I’d needed company. Perversely, knowing how I’d gotten to him instantly assuaged my own temper.

The car opened, and I walked inside. I didn’t turn as I felt Christian and Caleb file in behind me, and the door slid closed.

“So what’s the plan?” Christian asked as we began to descend.

“We can see the dragon tomorrow. It’s my brother.”

“Tomorrow?” Caleb asked, sounding disgusted. “What are we supposed to do while we wait?”

My voice was just as disgusted. “We’re supposed to relax.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

THAT EFFING GROVE

After much debate and general confusion, we decided that the pool was where we were supposed to ‘relax.’

“I’ll never understand what you see in him,” Christian muttered, as we rifled through swim wear at one of the casino mall’s many shops. “He’d better be a bloody good shag.”

I shot him a look for that one. “He is. He’s out of this world amazing in bed. Did you really want to know? Feel better now?”

He made a face, grabbing a pair of swim trunks. “Touché. I did not.”

“Don’t bring it up then.” I grabbed the first bikini that caught my eye. It was gold and sparkly. I grabbed a matching cover-up and a pair of gold aviator sunglasses at the checkout counter.

Relax. Grrrrr.

“I don’t know what he could be thinking,” Caleb muttered quietly as walked to the pool. “Wanting you to stay here, thinking this would keep you out of trouble. He knows better than anyone that this place houses the very worst kind of trouble.”

I studied Caleb. “Are you talking about a thing that lives here that we can’t directly talk about?”

He nodded. Scowled. “I fucking hate this place.”

He wasn’t the only one.

We spent a few hours lounging around the resort’s opulent pool. I told the guys they didn’t have to stay on house arrest with me, but neither of them listened. I knew why. They were half-afraid I might disappear if they didn’t keep an eye on me. And the odds of running into trouble went up exponentially when they hung around with me. And they both loved trouble.

Also, though none of us would likely admit it except under direct torture—we’d missed each other.

I was sporting the tiny gold bikini I’d found, and Caleb sat beside me, mimicking me, but in an even tinier bikini. One with a thong. It was gross. I told him so, but of course he was unfazed.

Christian sat in a lounger beside me, sipping a Piña Colada. We had spent a good amount of time making fun of his girly drink, but we weren’t done.

“They forgot your pink umbrella,” I told him.

“And your vagina,” Caleb added, deadpan.