WARPED VANITY ( BL)

CHAPTER 10

 “I like your ass from that vantage point,” tankhun commented.

  “As long as you like it from a distance,” vegas warned.

  I whirled around.

  Standing in the open door, vegas took in the mess on the floor and on his brother. “What the fuck happened here?”

  tankhun grimaced at his shirt then scowled at me. “That bitch tried to boil me alive.”

  I straightened, trying to hide my fear of what my punishment would be for the attack, but then vegas laughed, a low rumble that raised goose bumps on my skin.

  “I’m glad you find it funny,” tankhun muttered. “I’m done. Next time you’re busy, do me a favor and ask kinn to watch him.” He stalked out without another glance.

  “Clean that up,” vegas ordered with a nod toward the floor, the amusement gone from his voice.

  I remained where I was.

  vegas walked around the lake of orange on the floor and stopped right in front of me, forcing me to tilt my head back. He cupped my chin. “Let me give you a piece of advice, Angel. Choose your battles wisely,” he murmured threateningly. “And now you will clean the floor. I don’t give a fuck if your highborn hands aren’t supposed to get dirty.”

  I lowered my eyes from the harshness of his gaze but tried to mask it as me drawing back from his touch. “Where’s a mop?”

  vegas turned and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in exactly two minutes and you won’t move a fucking inch, understood?”

  I pressed my lips together, a small act of defiance—if it could even be considered that—because vegas knew I’d obey. Very few people would have dared to defy vegas in that moment. I hoped one day to be among them.

VEGAS

  I headed for the utility cupboard. Tankhun leaned against the bar, nursing a drink and his bruised ego. “Next time you should pay more attention.”

  He glared. “I think from the two of us, you have more reason to worry. he’s yours, not mine. Wait till he tries to boil your dick.”

  “I can control pete . Don’t worry.” I took a mop and a bucket out of the closet before I returned into the kitchen. Pete stood at exactly the same spot, frowning down at the floor.

  he kept surprising me. The photos I’d seen of him on the internet and the accompanying articles had suggested he was an ice prince. Cold, prideful, fragile. As easy to crush as fresh snow, but Pete  was like eternal ice. Breaking him with force was difficult, not impossible, because I knew how to break, but that would have been the wrong approach. Even eternal ice yielded to heat.

  I handed him the bucket and the mop, which he both took without protest. he avoided my eyes as he set out to fill the bucket with water and put it down on the ground. It became apparent pretty quickly that pete  had never wielded a mop in his life. he used too much water, flooding the floor.

  Leaning against the counter, I watched him  in silence. he should have taken a rag, gotten down on his  knees, and cleaned the floor properly, but I knew his  pride would stop him from kneeling in my presence. Proud and strong and painstakingly beautiful, even sweaty and covered with soup.

  The floor was still smeared with soup when he finally gave up. “The mop’s not working properly.”

  “It’s not the mop’s fault. Trust me.”

  “I wasn’t raised to clean floors,” he snapped, wayward strands of hair clinging to his  cheeks and forehead.

  “No, you were raised to warm a man’s bed and spread your legs for him.”