Chapter 9 : Reassurance

Eden's POV In my final foster family before getting booted out of the system, I was always expected to do the chores. After a while it became second nature to calm myself down, to center my hectic thoughts, by focusing my energy on cleaning. Jack always laughed when I went into my episodes of deep cleaning, and sometimes, on the days he was more disrespectful than usual, he would knock something over to cause a mess and set my nerves on fire. I'm thankful that even though Mason isn't a huge fan of me being in the brother's penthouse, he steps around me as I scrub the kitchen tiles and try to lighten the dirt in the grout. My attention is threaded between too many tasks at once, my heart racing. A suspect! They think I'm a suspect in a bank robbery! Mason leans on the counter, careful not to step on the soapy tiles of the kitchen floor. "I was thinking about making lunch but…" He gives me an exasperated look as I had spent all morning cleaning, reorganizing and perfecting this penthouse more than it already was. "…I can already tell if I make a mess in here, you will have a mental break, am I right?" I swallow and bite back an honest reply. "No, you can make lunch, Mason." His light chuckle proved that he wasn't so sure of that claim. "Okay, so I will make spaghetti. All those brittle noodles, crumbs everywhere and grease from the ground beef—oh, can't have it without marinara sauce all over the white countertops and cabinets. Maybe take some red wine into the living room—" "Mason, please," I snap. My spine releases an unapproved shudder. "Alright, I get it. I have a little bit of a cleaning thing, but you don't have to be so rude about it!" His eyes soften at my frustrated tone. "This isn't just about cleaning, is it?" I sit back on my knees, my shoulders aching after being bent forward and scrubbing the tiles so diligently. "I can't go to jail. I did nothing wrong," I pant, biting back tears. "I shouldn't be a suspect, and listening to the news repeat it all morning hasn't helped my anxiety, so I just wanted something to do, something to distract myself." He nods like he understands, but I know he's just playing nice until his cousins come home. He hates me, and it's clear he couldn't give a damn if I were to rot in prison; he would probably cheer for it just so I'd leave the Golden brothers alone. "I'll just order some lunch," he says, speaking gently for once. "Are you hungry?" "No," I grumble, though my stomach aches in hunger. He shrugs, heading back toward the living room. "I'll get you something anyways, just in case you change your mind, Eden." He said my name like it wasn't an absolute burden, and I'm thankful for that change of pace. I don't want Mason to dislike me, or even be bothered over the fact that I'm staying with them now. Mason is close to the brothers, and that's all I want to be, too. I watch a few, exasperated tears fall on the tile as I continue trying to distract myself. Mason stands when the elevator clicks open in the penthouse, and he meets the brothers in the hallway. None of them are interested in lowering their voices as though I can't hear them around the corner. "What's wrong, Mason? Where's our girl?" Ryder asks, his cheerful tone always so upbeat, no matter the circumstances. Mason clears his throat, speaking softer than I've ever heard from him. "She's going through some kind of breakdown, guys. The news was on, and she heard them saying she was a suspect and—" "I told you to stop playing the f*cking news, Mason," Dante snaps, his tone unforgiving. "Where is she?" Dante storms into the kitchen stopping short when he spies me on my knees, cleaning the grout. Ryder joins him shortly after, the two of them looking around the entire kitchen like it's a new room to them. "We have a housekeeper for that, baby," Ryder gasps in shock. "This isn't necessary." I wipe my flushing, damp cheek with my wrist, the smell of the tile cleaner enough to make me dizzy. "I'm almost done," I lie. "It's not a big deal. I just wanted to reorganize the pantry and—" "And the linen closet, and all the bathroom showers," Mason trails on, taunting me slightly. "Oh, she even cleaned the little crystals on the dining room chandelier." Dante's eyes squint. "There's almost three-thousand crystals on that fixture, kitten. You didn't have to do all of that." I choke back more tears, more embarrassment, as I unravel on their kitchen floor. Ryder grunts, pushing forward. "Alright, get off your knees. It's not required right now." He pulls me to stand, and I try not to fight him, instead falling forward into his expectant embrace. My face nuzzles into his neck, and he hums, tightening his arms around my lower back. Dante stalks behind me, his hand lifting the shirt I have on to expose my bare ass. "We really need to get her some panties," Dante growls, pressing his hips into my butt. "Or not. I'm starting to enjoy the reality of coming home to this." Ryder growls a noise that only his brother understands, and they press me tightly between them, the spot I enjoy the most lately. I finally feel my pulse calm, my panic subside, and go uselessly numb between the bank robbing brothers. "I need a shower," Ryder groans at last, kissing my temple before stalking off toward his bedroom. Dante slides around to my front, using his tattooed knuckles to wipe the tears still dotted along my eyelashes. "Let's go sit down, kitten. You need a break." He pulls my hand, but I stop, feeling myself refill with the pressure and the concerns that have plagued me all day. I motion toward the cleaning supplies still on the floor. I won't be able to focus if it's still sitting here in the open. "Okay," he breathes, nodding as he leaves me for the living room, taking a seat where he can still glance over in my direction every so often. "Save some of that energy for later. I can think of a much better way to release it." I blush, trying to focus on anything other than the problems at hand. Thinking of Ryder and Dante having their way with me is certainly a better alternative! "How'd the meeting go with your father?" Mason says, flipping the television onto a new channel for the first time today and taking my picture off the screen. "Did Felix ask about your new house guest?" "Of course, he did—thanks to you," Dante grumbles. "He's not happy about it, but she kept her lips sealed in police questioning, like she said she would, so he's not too distraught over it." "And what if she changes her mind one day?" Dante finds my eyes, my body freezing under his cold, oceanic glare. How anyone questions a man so burly, so overwhelming in physical appearance, is baffling. Mason is braver than most to challenge Dante, even more so to challenge both of the Golden brothers like he had when he released me prematurely. After the run-in at the lounge with Asher Donahue, I can only imagine the brothers scolded Mason for letting that happen. Maybe that's why Mason Golden couldn't care less about my presence. "I think she's on our team, Mason," Dante breathes at last, cutting ties with my glare and letting me breathe. "Cut her a little bit of slack, will you? She's got no stake in our business. She covered for us robbing a bank. She has proved herself plenty." "Doesn't mean you get to keep her as your personal—" "Careful with those next words," Ryder snaps, waltzing into the room with nothing but a white towel wrapped meticulously around his waist. It hangs too low, carving that precious valley that leads to the land of milk and honey below. I swallow a moan. "You call her something other than her name, your cut of the deal is gone," Dante adds. Mason shrugs his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. Let's just stick to that topic, then. Keep things civil here, guys. We're family. Don't let some—" The brothers lean forward in their seats, eyeing him like sharks would watch a wounded seal. Mason bites back his next words without needing another warning to reach him first. "—Never mind, whatever. I'll just shut up. Tell me what happened with Felix." "The Donahue family knows it was us who stole the box," Dante breathes in heavy exhaustion. Ryder tussles his wet, blond hair back from his chiseled face. "They got a nice little call from someone's ex-boyfriend looking to start trouble." I sit up, a cold flicker of lightning zipping through my veins. "Jack Ward?" "Relax, baby," Dante coos. "We can handle that jealous rat." "He doesn't have any proof," I pant, nervous again. "Why would they believe him?" Ryder softens his smile, so relaxed. "Well, we assumed we could just explain that we saw you at the lounge with Asher and we took you home," he explains. "That would have disregarded any rumors that we met you during the robbery." "What we did not account for was for Jack to have his phone recording half of our conversation before deciding to fight us in your apartment," Dante mumbles. "He sent the whole audio clip over to Asher." Everything aches with that claim. "So that means—am I going to—" "She's scared of going to prison," Mason whispers. "No, no, no," Ryder barks, stomping over to me in the kitchen. I can't help but hope his towel falls as he crouches down before me, his hand brushing my chin gently. "Donahue doesn't like the police. You should have known that by now." "It just means, kitten," Dante huffs, coming to kneel beside me with his brother, "that we have to keep you safe, which was always in the original plan. Asher is harmless when it comes to a pretty face. He might stir up some trouble with us, but you'll be fine." Ryder takes my hand, kissing my knuckles with his warm, welcomed lips. I imagine that they're all over me, and I shiver, both of the Golden brothers chuckling in amusement at my involuntary movement. "Stir up some trouble?" Mason mocks his words, standing while he throws a mini tantrum in the living room. "The contents of that box are very, very valuable, Dante. You know that! Trouble is the least of our concerns if they have proof that you were the ones behind the heist." I sink, wondering how much they are downplaying the severity of this situation for my benefit. "Dammit, Mason, just go home," Ryder bites as he looks over his shoulder. Their brooding cousin is already halfway into his coat, headed for the elevator. "Not a f*cking problem." When it's just the three of us, all kneeling on the kitchen floor, I can't help but relax. "Mason doesn't like me very much," I say. "I don't want you to get into an argument with him because of me." "It's not about you," Dante assures me, his palm heavy on my shoulder. "Asher Donahue and his father Erik, they're in the same ring that our family does business in. They wouldn't outright hurt anyone, it would draw too much attention." "Mason is just trying to be cautious," Ryder explains. "He doesn't like conflict." "Sound familiar?" Dante purrs, kissing my cheek. I glow pinkish, and he laughs. "Now, come on. I'm sick of you being on the kitchen floor in so much clothes. Let's go take a brief mid-afternoon nap." Dante hikes me into his arms suddenly, breaking a laugh from the base of my stomach. Ryder pulls my neck back, kissing me upside down while I hang lazily in his brother's grasp. I can't tame my grin when he pulls away. "Mason ordered food before he stormed out," I breathe. Dante carries me into my bedroom, the three of us falling into the soft cloud of a mattress. "His loss. Hope he picked something good at least." "I was in the mood for eating something else," Ryder teases, kissing the base of my neck. For men who consider themselves dangerous criminals, they sure have a loose sense of concern. Me on the other hand? I've got enough fear for the three of us.