Stop Going Through My Stuff!

Liliana Grace Harlan POV

Elias’s gaze flicked from me to Dante, then back. “How long?” His voice was low and gravelly, rough, breaking the silence like a stone dropped in still water.

Dante didn’t answer right away. His thumb kept stroking calmly and deliberately, but I felt the shift in him, the doctor retreating, the protector rising. “Until the threat’s eliminated,” he said quietly. “Days. Maybe weeks.”

Nikolai let out a soft, dark laugh that lifted every fine hair on my arms. “Well, princess…” He stepped closer, hands still buried in his pockets, grin curling slow and wicked. “Looks like you’re moving in.”

My pulse slammed so hard I was sure they could hear it echoing off the walls.

Dante’s fingers tightened just a fraction around my wrist. “You’re safe,” he murmured, the words velvet-soft but edged with steel, meant only for me. “No one touches you unless I say so. Not even them. Not until you’re ready.”

But the way the others looked at me now, Jaxon's jaw ticking with barely leashed hunger, Elias’s gaze dark and unreadable, Nikolai’s eyes gleaming with dark, patient promise, said something entirely different.

I was safe from the killer outside but definitely I'm I safe from them?

From the men who’d just been handed temporary, legal ownership of me?

From the men who’d heard me come apart screaming their names?

That was a different kind of danger that I can't be safe from and it was already closing in.

“Your dad told us everything too,” Jaxon said, voice flat and final. “So we’re taking you now.”

“Yeah, but why didn’t Dad fucking tell me you were coming?” The words burst out sharper than I meant, frustration and humiliation twisting together.

Dante’s eyes softened instantly, that baby face of his still unfairly youthful for a man in his late thirties tilting toward me with quiet concern. Those huge, luminous eyes, the kind that made people instinctively coo “aww” before remembering how dangerous he could be, held mine without flinching.

"Lily", he said gently, the warning wrapped in velvet, “no need for the f-word." Like I was still twelve. Like the girl who’d just soaked the sheets calling their names didn’t exist yet.

God, the embarrassment burnt hotter than ever.

He noticed, of course he did. His thumb paused its slow circle, then resumed even softer.

“It’s normal,” he said, his voice low, clinical yet achingly tender. “For women your age, especially during ovulation, hormonal surges can heighten libido, sensitivity, and even emotional intensity. The body’s responding to natural cycles. I understand.”

He leaned in just a fraction, blonde hair slipping across his forehead, those big, adorable eyes crinkling at the corners with that sad, sweet worry that always made my heart stutter and, traitorously, made everything lower clench harder.

One gentle poke to my cheek with his gloved finger and heat rushed through me all over again. He looks too soft, and too kind to be the one holding the reins.

But right now, with the others watching like wolves on leashes, that baby face hid every sharp, dangerous thing he was capable of.

And I was already his to protect Or claim, well, depending on how long this lockdown lasted.

“You’re safe,” he repeated quietly, eyes still locked on mine. “We’re taking you to the estate. Tonight.”

I nodded, throat too tight to speak.

Jaxon didn’t wait for permission or discussion. He turned toward my dresser and closet like the room belonged to him, shoulders rolling with that calm, predatory efficiency that made my stomach tighten. Drawers slid open under his hands smoothly revealing lace, silk, cotton in neat, folded rows.

“What do you need before we leave?” he asked over his shoulder, voice flat, commanding, the kind that expected answers, not arguments. “Panties? Bra? Dress? Tell me, Liliana.”

He was already rifling through my underwear drawer without hesitation, long fingers sorting through delicate fabric like he was cataloging evidence at a crime scene. He plucked a black lace thong from the pile, holding it up between two fingers, thin straps dangling, the sheer panel almost translucent in the low light. A matching bra followed, tossed onto the bed beside it with casual precision, the delicate cups landing right next to the dark wet spot I’d tried so hard to hide.

My cheeks flamed so hot I thought they’d combust. Heat crawled down my neck, across my chest, pooling low where everything was still slick and sensitive and aching.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” I snapped, voice shaking with humiliation. “Stop going through my stuff!” I lunged forward to snatch the thong from the bed, the blanket clutched desperately to my chest. It slipped dangerously low, baring one shoulder, the upper swell of my breast.

Dante’s gloved hand caught my wrist mid-reach, his thumb brushing my racing pulse like he was measuring exactly how undone I was.

“Never said you were, little rabbit,” Jaxon murmured, voice low and rough, the nickname landing like a slow stroke between my legs. He didn’t even pause. He moved back to the closet, pushing hangers aside with one broad hand while the other pulled out a soft grey sweater dress, thick knit, modest length, the kind that would cling just enough to remind me I was still bare underneath. He tossed it onto the growing pile on the bed without looking back at me.

I tried to stand, blanket clutched tight to my chest, knees trembling. “Stop! Get out, please, just… get out.” My voice cracked on the last word, the plea scraping out of me like I was still that embarrassed girl from the barbecue days instead of the woman they’d caught mid-orgasm.

Nikolai chuckled from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, leaning there like he had all the time in the world. “Can’t do that, princess. Not after what we just walked in on.”

Jaxon glanced back at me then, green eyes unreadable but burning with an intensity that pinned me in place. The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “We’re not leaving you here alone. Not with that threat out there. So pick what you want, or I’ll pick for you.”

The words hung between us, heavy with everything unsaid. My father had just handed me over to them like a fragile package marked “handle with care,” and yet the way Jaxon stood there my black lace thong still dangling from his fingers only moments earlier made it clear he had zero intention of being careful at all.

I stared at him, mortified, cheeks burning hotter than the flush still lingering between my thighs. He was going through my wardrobe, my most private drawers, like it was nothing. Like he had every right to sort through my lace and silk, to decide what touched my skin next. The casual flick of his wrist as he held up another scrap of fabric felt invasive.

A dark, shameful thrill twisted low in my belly at the thought of him choosing what I’d wear underneath it all. Of all of them deciding. Of being dressed by their hands before they carried me off to that locked-down estate like I already belonged to them.

“Give her a second,” Dante said quietly to the room, his voice steady, soothing. “She’s still processing.” But his big, soft eyes flicked to the pile on the bed, the delicate black lace thong, the matching bra, the soft grey sweater dress, the folded leggings and something darker flashed through them, raw and unguarded and something dark flashed in them.

Nikolai leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his lazy grin sharpening into something predatory. “Processing?” he echoed, voice velvet and low. “Take all the time you need, princess… but just know the longer you make us wait, the more we’re remembering exactly how you sounded when you came screaming our names.”

Elias stepped closer, hazel eyes locked on me like he could see straight through the slipping blanket to the slick heat still pulsing between my legs. His voice came out a gravel-rough murmur that raised every hair on my arms. “Better hurry, sweetheart. Every extra second you stall is another second we picture you in nothing but that lace… or nothing at all.”

The air in the room grew impossibly heavier, charged with promise and restraint and the low thrum of four men barely holding themselves back.

I swallowed hard.