Free Dangerous: Made & Broken (A British Bad Boy Romance) by Nora Ash Page B

your boss’s wife would have to suck pretty hard, even if your day job was being a criminal, and yet they did it without making me feel like a burden. Granted, they didn’t exactly make me feel warm and welcome, either, but then again, I hadn’t done anything to make them feel welcome.
    “Would you like a cup of tea?
    Neither man managed to hide a look of surprise as I stood up from the sofa and offered each a genuine, if somewhat tentative, smile.
    “Uh. Sure. Thanks.”
    “It’s the least I can do, for all the work you’ve done for me,” I chirped, suddenly in a much better mood. Perhaps it was because it was my first positive interaction with another human being in weeks, but the simple act of putting the kettle on and getting the fancy china out I’d bought a few days ago made me feel like a different person. Or a real person, I should say, rather than a depressed captive with access to the Internet and a shopping addiction.
    I made the tea in my new pretty, pink-and-green pot and arranged three cups on a silver tray. Then, thinking about all the hard work Greg and Rob had been doing all day, I threw together a few sandwiches as well, but when I went to put them on the tray I realized that I likely wasn’t going to get many other chances to break out my Butterfly Bloom afternoon tea set.
    Fifteen minutes later, I’d set up the three-tier cake stand and filled it with sandwiches, store-bought scones and some cakes I’d planned on eating later in my room, and the kitchen breakfast bar had been transformed into a full-on tea party.
    “Tea’s ready,” I yelled up the stairs, where I’d last heard the two bodyguards bump around with yet another piece of bulging furniture.
    From the looks on their faces when they entered the kitchen thirty seconds later, they hadn’t expected the colorful spread.
    “This is for us?” Rob’s one eyebrow was quirked in what I could only assume was mild disbelief.
    I felt my face heat up a bit. Okay, so maybe I’d gone a bit overboard. “Yeah… I figured you might be hungry, and…” And it wasn’t like I would be able to invite anyone else over for tea and scones anytime soon. Not that I was the most social of people, but a full week in near-isolation had apparently made me pretty starved for company. I sat down on the bar stool farthest left and grabbed a sandwich triangle—crust free. “Help yourselves.”
    Both men sat down with some hesitation, which only emphasized how much their rough appearance clashed with the delicate porcelain.
    “You don’t like afternoon tea?” I guessed, doing my best to keep the disappointment out of my voice. Just because I was desperately lonely enough to try and socialize with Blaine’s hired goons didn’t mean that they had any interest in making even the most basic of smalltalk with me.
    “No, it’s fine. Great, even,” Rob hurriedly replied, and I got the feeling I hadn’t kept my disappointment very well-hidden. He grabbed a sandwich himself and took a big bite. His hum of enjoyment seemed more genuine.
    “We’re just used to Blaine,” Greg said, a wide grin spreading on his face as he picked a buttered scone off the cake stand. “The most you get out of him is a lukewarm beer after a hit.”
    I paled at the reference to the other part of their job, but caught myself before I could freak out. I knew what they did—being a delicate flower about it wasn’t going to do me any good right now.
    Rob gave him an elbow to the side. “Don’t talk about that in front of a lady, eh? She don’t wanna hear it.”
    “It’s not like she doesn’t know,” Greg muttered.
    Rob rolled his eyes—a move that looked surprisingly comical due to his general physique. It’s not often you get the delight of seeing a six-foot tall, four-foot wide criminal wearing a leather vest roll his eyes like a teenage girl. “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s never held on to a lady friend long enough to know the basics.”
    Greg gave him a