The Search I

Chapter I
Eli

I couldn’t even remember how Ava had convinced me to agree to this ridiculous girls’ trip in the first place—but I already regretted letting her go.

I regretted agreeing to not having her in my immediate surrounding for a few days. For a lot of hours. 
I will never understand a womans need to "get away" and have "girls time". What does that even mean? Ava tried to explain to me the necessity of girls needing their own time and how friendships and alone times were important for both - our relationship and their relationship.

It didn't make any sense to me. 

She said, and I quote, "That's because you are a man"

So naturally I wanted to stop her from leaving, so I don't understand how I got here. 

And by here I mean, here alone in England while she was in Italy.

Okay, that’s a lie.

I remembered exactly how she convinced me.

My dick remembered it very well.

Ava had always known how to get what she wanted from me, always knew how to wrap me around her little fucking finger like I was born to orbit towards her. I mean, sure—her father had finally started loosening the iron grip he had on her after over two years of us being together, finally acknowledged our love and how no one could seperate us. 

Okay that was also a lie.

Cole Nash hated me like never before.

Probably even more with every day passing. And with ever day I don't leave her daughter alone. The actual reason he allowed my Ava to breathe - yes, even in my thoughts I say my Ava to provoke him - was my amazing future-mother-in-law, Silver. 

She was patient with her husband - very patient might I add - but seeing her daughter suffering upon his unbearable attacks towards me and our relationship, she snapped. 

And if he wanted to save his relationship, he had to back off from ours.

So, she had more freedom now. And yes, she deserved it.
We’d been sneaking around for far too long, always watching our backs, always hiding.

I was a very proud person - I was a fucking King and my father told me to never hide from anything that life gave me. So of course, I wasn't someone who willingly would sneak around. I did that all because I couldn't see Ava's tears and truth to be told, I hated it when she was begging outside of sex. 

Okay, I loved it.
But not when she was suffering under the situation if I didn't agree.

It was somewhat similar regarding this trip shit. When she realized her bratty behavior didn't help her case she tried it differently.

She tried begging.

This time my favorite kind of begging.

And I couldn't deny that she had strong arguments.

Especially when the main argument for me to shut up and let her go involved her tight little pussy choking my dick like it was begging me to come along.

I was powerless the second she dropped to her knees and looked up at me with those big, innocent eyes and that pouty, fuckable mouth. She had whispered all the right things, begged me to bend her over and take her like she was mine—and she was. God, she was. And she promised, in that soft, breathy voice, that she’d be a good girl for me if I let her go. I wasn’t thinking with my brain in that moment. I was thinking with my dick.

And now I hated that treacherous bastard.

I hated how easily I gave in. How I’d let her pack up and leave for a whole week with her little circle of chaos, when all I wanted was to glue myself to her hip and stay there. I knew she needed space—knew she needed this. But I also knew myself. I didn’t do distance well. Not with her.

And the worst part? I wasn’t the only one.

Turned out, none of us guys handled this separation bullshit well. Was I surprised? Of course not. We were all a bunch of obsessed psychopaths.

All of us had, in some way, tried to sabotage their trip. My brother Creighton and I had literally broken into the girls’ room the night before their flight, hoping to steal the tickets or hide the passports. Dumb plan. They were waiting for us. Ava and Annika had expected us, like they knew we’d try something.
It was almost comedic how well they knew us. How Annika promised that the tickets were not here, when Creighton tried to look for them. 
Or how Ava assured that she wasn't stupid enough to keep the passport in sight.

That same night, Jeremy—Annika’s older brother and borderline psycho protector—had tried to straight-up kidnap Cecily. I’m not even exaggerating. That fucker was serious. Meanwhile, Killian, the chaos incarnate that he is, was outside the door, on his knees, trying to “convince” my cousin with that wicked tongue of his. I’m pretty sure Glyndon moaned before she kicked him in the chest.

Something I never wanted to hear or know about my cousin.

Jeremy eventually dragged Killian away after Cecily muttered some cryptic shit about “smoke” and “a house in the forest,” which for some reason scared the hell out of him. I didn’t understand a damn word, but it worked. Jeremy called in backup—Nikolai and Gareth—to help control Killian, and for once, he actually let go of Glyndon.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t like my cousin’s boyfriend. But in that weird way men sometimes understand each other without speaking, I get him. We all did. Every single one of us was spiraling in our own pathetic little way.

Remington? That poor bastard had gone full meltdown mode and tried to guilt cry his girlfriend Ariella into staying. I’m talking full-on tears-in-her-lap, clutching-her-hands, “please don’t leave me” performance. Dude had no shame. No pride. No dignity left. But you know what? I respected the hell out of him for that.

And I'd rather die than to ever say that to him. Instead, I continued to make fun off him in the group chat.

Because none of it worked.

Every single one of our girls left.

Except for two of us, our better halfs were gone.

Brandon and Landon. Lucky assholes.

Brandon, my cousin, was dating Nikolai—the absolute last person you’d want to cross. That psycho would’ve followed Brandon into hell itself if he had to. A girls’ trip didn’t even apply to them, but let’s be real: even if Brandon did try to go on a trip solo, Nikolai would’ve chained himself to his ankle and smiled while doing it. I’ve literally seen him slit his own throat once just to prove a point. He doesn’t care about anything except Brandon.

And Landon? That bastard escaped with Mia the second break started. He preemptively kidnapped his girlfriend. Took her to Grandpa’s island—Aurora—before she could even think about ditching him for a girls’ trip. Strategic, manipulative, and admittedly brilliant. He locked that shit down before the rest of us even realized we were losing.

And me? I let Ava talk me into letting her go. Let her seduce me with her voice and her body and her fucking promises.

Now I was stuck.

I threw myself onto my brother’s bed with a groan. Creighton was attempting to compensate for Annika’s absence by either sleeping all day or calling her every chance he got. The last time she told him she had to hang up because the “girls were calling,” he looked like a kicked puppy.

Somehow, without even talking about it, all of us guys had figured out a collective “optimal” time to call the girls—when they weren’t too busy. It was always after 10 a.m., when they’d be getting ready or waiting for breakfast. We milked those ten-minute calls like they were oxygen.

Creighton groaned as I landed beside him and immediately turned over, burying his face in the blanket. I didn’t care. I climbed on top of him, wrapping my arms and legs around him in a full-body chokehold of brotherly affection.

He groaned again. “Fuck. Off.”

Too tired to actually fight me off, he just laid there.

I grinned, snuggling closer. “Remember how you used to sleep on my chest when we were kids?”

Creighton had always been quiet. Still is. It’s his way. He doesn’t do affection easily. Doesn’t talk about feelings. But when we were younger, he used to sneak into my bed almost every night. He hated being alone. Our parents eventually gave up and moved his bed into my room, but even then, he’d end up in my bed anyway. It was the only way he felt safe enough to sleep.

He opened his mouth, probably to curse me out or say something sarcastic—but then his phone rang.

In an instant, he threw me off his back and launched himself toward the nightstand like a man possessed.

He answered it in a heartbeat. “Little Purple…” he breathed into the phone, voice already softened.

But then I watched his whole expression change.

His eyes snapped to mine. His brows furrowed. His grip on the phone tightened.

“…Who is this?” he asked, voice dropping an octave. His jaw clenched.

And I knew.

Something was wrong.