Then again, if Sixx had what Leigh and Olly had, she’d consider taking that particular show on the road.
“Uh … hello? Sixx?” Leenie called. “Earlier Stellan paraded you around his pool like he was introducing everyone to his new fiancée. Are you and Stellan together? And if so, when did this happen?”
There was something in her expression, something intent, beyond curiosity about a friend’s love life (way beyond) that she couldn’t put her finger on but made her uneasy.
“I think it’s fabulous,” Leigh stated. “And it’s so Stellan to find you such an amazing specimen to occupy your time and meet your needs at the same time he doesn’t partake or even look at anything, except you.”
Sixx’s body went completely solid.
“I knew that gladiator was his, I’ve seen the man in battle, and I was surprised,” Leigh continued. “Not anymore, knowing now Stellan acquired him for you.”
“It’s incredibly generous,” Evangeline muttered, watching Sixx closely.
Like she was moving it through treacle, Sixx shifted her head so she could look between her friends and find Stellan.
Felicia had joined Stellan and Victor, and Stellan was looking down at her, laughing at something she said.
Sixx watched, thinking—as per his wont, which was his wont because he knew it would be hers—she was Mistress Sixx out here, with her toys, not his newly unveiled Simone.
But he had not acquired something for himself to pass the time.
She couldn’t touch, but she could play. And he’d given her that.
However, it was his party. The kind of party he didn’t give frequently, but he threw regularly, and he’d always enjoyed the opportunity to provide his friends—people who shared his way of life—a different scene, a fantastic one, that they could use to partake in that way of life.
And he partook too.
Always.
But she’d just orchestrated a load being shot from a heavy, hard cock on the big beautiful body of an exceptional alpha-submissive, Stellan allowed it, was the man behind it, and he got nothing but knowing he gave her that.
It was then she moved her head around in a hazy way, taking in a pool she’d been to before, but didn’t take in the way she was taking it in right then.
The smart, expensive deck furniture. The well-maintained, attractive landscaping. The theme of bright Mexican pots overflowing with succulents, carried through from the front, dotted everywhere. Pots that someone had to cultivate, and that someone wasn’t Stellan.
The pool deck was travertine edged in brick. Expensive, and not dusty or dirty. And the pads on the furniture were pristine white.
In the kitchen, the island had been covered in fabulous displays of food, flanked with lavish beverage dispensers filled with fruit and ice, offering two types of sangria as well as margaritas. There were also buckets filled with bottles of beer, chilled white wine and champagne.
There were a goodly number of people there, but there was so much of all of that, half of it would be thrown out.
Maybe more.
They couldn’t consume all that.
And then there was going to be a sit-down dinner.
“This turn of events makes me happy for you.” It was Leigh speaking, and the change in her timbre of voice, like she was a soft-spoken general imparting an important message to her troops, had Sixx’s vague gaze moving to her. “Stellan and you. You’ve always been somewhat reserved. This was your way. But since your return, this intensified to the point I must admit to having some concern for you. It seemed something had happened to you while you were gone. Something you weren’t sharing. Now I see what you were searching for. Stellan too. He would never, not ever be content with someone who did not share that common bond. You were meant for each other. No less equal than a partner who fits the unique puzzle that is the two of you, forming the perfect picture. But a different kind of equal, not two halves that make a whole. Two like-minded souls who share a vital understanding.”
“I’ve got to go,” Sixx stated urgently, jumping off the lounge like it had just caught on fire.
“Sorry?”
“What?”
She put her sangria down on an attractive table that was handy (of course), shoved her feet in her slides and took off moving toward the house. “Catch you guys later.”
“Sixx!” Leigh called.
Sixx kept moving, eyes to her feet that were directing her to the house.
She opened the French door, shoving her sunglasses up into her hair immediately. She moved into the kitchen/dining room space and avoided looking at the sprawling banquet Stellan had his housekeeper lay out for his guests.
Her clutch and bag were in his room.
She didn’t give a shit about the bag.
But her keyfob was in her purse, and she needed that to get into her car and get the hell out of there.
She darted toward the stairs but didn’t hit that first step since she was stopped when a set of strong fingers closed around her elbow.
“Simone,” Stellan whispered, drawing her around to face him.
She stared at his chest. “I have to go. Something I forgot I had to do.”
“Sweetheart—”
His hand was coming up, like he was going to touch her face.
She flinched, tore her elbow from his grip and started to rear back, but she didn’t get far before she was plastered to his body, her head immobilized by his hand clamped on the side of her neck, his thumb at her jaw forcing it up.
She looked to his ear.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“I really need to go,” she told his ear.
“Look at me, honey.”
“A job I forgot about,” she lied and kept doing it. “I’ll call you.”
“What did Leigh say?”
She shook her head against his grip. “You need to…” She cleared her throat. “I mean, I need to go, and I gave Ami permission to do what he wanted with Jennifer. But you, I mean … I’m going … you should … um, if Victor’s being generous, you should play with her.”
“Right,” he gritted, letting her go but only to alter the way he’d been holding her.
He clasped his fingers around her biceps and dragged her up the stairs, down the hall, into his room.
This was good.
Her clutch was there.
It was bad when he slammed the heavy (also ornately carved) door, closing them both in.
He yanked her around to his front and clamped a hand on the side of her head, fingers in her hair, palm under her jaw, face in hers in a way she had no choice but to look up at him.
“What the fuck is happening?” he bit out.
“You know me,” she found her lips whispering.
“I’m trying to,” he retorted.
“You know my name.”
“Yes,” he agreed curtly.
“You know me.”
Stellan went still.
Oh yes.
He knew her.
“I don’t belong here,” she told him.
“Simone—”
“Stop calling me that,” she hissed. “I’m Sixx.”
“Darling—”
“Stop calling me that too,” she snapped.
“Please … take a breath and calm down.”
“How much did this house cost?” she asked.
An irritated storm cloud of confusion hit his expression.
It was hot.
Fuck!
“Why does that matter?” he asked back.
“Only someone who could afford this kind of house would ask that,” she retorted.
That shut him up.
It also cleared up that cloud.
But he didn’t let her go.
“Do you have any idea how much that spread cost to lay out or do you just dump cash in an account for Margarita and tell her to go for it?” she pushed.
“If you’d calm down,” he said, now using a warm, even tone, “I could explain to you in a way you’ll understand why that doesn’t matter.”
“I’m not a sub,” she stated bitingly.
“No. You’re not. You’re Sixx. Mistress Sixx with a devoted following. You’re not a sub. I know that. Not for anyone. But me.”
“Not even for—”
“Not for anyone but the men in your life who you can trust to be your true self. Trust to keep that safe.”
She snapped her mouth shut.
Stellan didn’t.
“You gave it to Aryas, who you adore. And you give it to me.”
Holy God.
Their sessions were closed.
They’d been closed.
Goddamn Aryas!
He’d lost his patience and interfered.