I stop, forcing Brad to stop too. He looks at me, waiting. “I’m working on it,” I answer, and keep moving, leaving Brad with a look of confusion and worry all over his face.
He should be worried.
I am too.
Chapter 26
ROSE
* * *
After I get out of the shower, I find Danny on the terrace. He’s straddling a chair, his forearms resting on the back support. He’s deep in thought, gazing out across the gardens. I watch him for a time, unable to admire his sweaty form in his gym clothes, too worried about what could be running through his mind. Eventually, he notices he’s not alone. Looks up at me. Smiles. But it doesn’t light up his eyes. He pushes his hands into the back rest and raises, swinging his leg over the seat before tucking it back under the table.
He approaches me. Drops a soft kiss on my cheek. Then heads for the bathroom, pulling his black muscle vest off as he goes. Something’s . . . off. He’s quiet. Pensive and thoughtful. Part of me wants to ask what’s changed his mood so dramatically. A bigger part of me doesn’t. Trust him. That’s what he said. And I do.
I listen to him shower as I dress, pulling on some thin gray sweatpants and my British sweater. As I look in the mirror, I can’t help but think that the huge rock on my finger doesn’t quite match the comfy clothes. I hold my hand up and inspect my ring. I could stare at it forever. Not only because it’s beautiful, but because I can’t believe I have a ring on that finger. And Danny Black gave it to me. But if there is a man in this world who I should be with forever, it’s him.
“Still like it?”
I whirl around, finding Danny’s rubbing a towel over his hair, his shoulder resting on the doorjamb. There’s not a scrap of material covering any other part of him, and I fight to stop my eyes indulging in the vast beauty of his naked form. I have the rest of my life to do that. “What’s not to like?”
He smiles and approaches, dropping a light kiss on my forehead before getting into his own comfy clothes, namely, a black T-shirt and gray pants. His feet are bare. His strong arms strain against the material around his biceps. Every muscle he has seems more prominent, even through his clothes. “Good workout?” I ask, pulling my hair into a ponytail.
A light nod gives me my answer, though something tells me it wasn’t so good. I study him as he rakes a hand through his wet hair, pulling it off his face. “Ready?” he asks.
“What are we doing?”
“Watching TV.” He claims my hand and pulls me along as I balk at his profile. “I just want to do something normal,” he adds.
“What are we watching?”
“The Godfather.”
I roll my eyes as he turns a dirty smirk onto me, nudging my shoulder playfully. “That’s not funny.”
He laughs lightly and looks down at his phone when it rings, coming to a gradual stop. “You go. I’ll take this and join you.”
“The theater room?”
He nods and ushers me on, turning and heading back to the bedroom. I hear him say hello to whoever’s calling, his voice short and clipped, and then the door closes, and it takes everything in me not to press my ear to the wood to listen. Trust him. I breathe in and walk backward a few paces, eventually tearing my eyes away and turning. I take the stairs, the cold marble sinking into the bare soles of my feet, the slap of flesh on hard stone feeling good. When I arrive in the theatre room, I scan the cream space for a remote control to turn on the TV. Nothing.
“Lost something?”
I startle and turn, finding Amber in the doorway, her blonde hair secured tightly in a bun. It makes her face look sharp and unfriendly, her dark lips and black trouser suit adding to the hard look. “No, I—” I pull up, for the first time wondering why she’s here. Again. “What are you doing here?”
Her unfriendly persona turns downright hostile. “I could ask you the same question.”
“Well, that would be stupid, since you know the answer.” And just in case she doesn’t, or maybe just needs it confirming, I subtly reach for a loose strand of my hair and tuck it behind my ear, hoping the dazzle of my diamond blinds her. Her eyes widen, no doubt, but her body remains still, her face expressionless. “So, why are you here?” I ask again, this time moving forward, demonstrating that I’m not threatened by her. Not even when she’s dressed to kill, and I’m dressed to veg out. “To fuck Danny, or one of his men?”
“He has feelings for me, you know.” Her chin rises a little. It doesn’t dent my confidence. The woman is deluded. “Before you, we were a sure thing.”
“Clearly not such a sure thing,” I reply, refusing to allow her animosity to get under my skin. Or her tall tales to worry me. I’ve had so much taken from me, I’ll be dead before I let another woman try to take Danny. “Shouldn’t you be leaving, since you have nothing here anymore?”
Her dark lips twist. “You’re nothing but a whore.”
“Maybe. But at least Danny wants this whore,” I fire back, my irritation threatening to show. She will not get a rise out of me. “And at least he doesn’t share this whore.”
She can’t disguise the shock on her face. “Will he want you when I tell him you’re a rat?”
I smile. I can’t stop myself. She’s in it for the win, obviously. Shame she’s already lost. “Do what you’ve got to do, Amber.” I brush past her, set to go find out where Danny hides his remote control.
I get only a few paces before I have her claws in my back. Literally. Her nails sink into my shoulders through my thick sweater and haul me back, and she screeches something inaudible, slamming me into a nearby drinks cabinet. I’m momentarily disorientated, stunned that she would physically attack me, then I gather myself and wrestle her away, channeling my energy into shoving her back and using the time to compose myself. I refuse to have a catfight with a woman. Jesus, what on earth is wrong with her? “You’re showing yourself up, Amber.” I straighten myself out. “Have some self-respect.”
“Fuck you. He would have been mine had you not seduced him.” She stands and reaches behind her back, pulling a gun out and aiming it at me.
“Are you kidding me?” I stare at the black weapon in her hand, stunned. “You’d shoot me?”
“I’ve done worse than kill a whore.”
I blink a few times, thinking I’m imagining things. Thinking the gun is actually a lipstick or something innocent. Yet five blinks later, I still have a 9mm pointing at my chest. I look up into her eyes, cold eyes, and shake my head in disbelief. “You think killing the woman he loves is going to win him over?”
She advances, her hand steady. “The chances of him loving me are a lot more likely without you around.” She disengages the safety. “I need him. More than you do. I’m dead out there without him.”
“You’re insane.”
“That’s what happens when you hold out for years on a man. I will have him. No one will stop me. Not you, not him, and not—” Amber loses her line when she’s barged from the side, taking a tumble to the floor on a loud thump. She drops the gun, and I watch as it’s kicked away. I expect to find Danny when I look up. I don’t.
Esther is glaring at Amber as she scrambles to her feet, a look of pure disdain tarnishing her usually clear complexion. “Get out,” Danny’s mother seethes, throwing an arm toward the door. “You’ve long overstayed your welcome.”
Amber, her forehead heavy with a frown, pulls herself to her heels, never taking her cautious eyes off Esther, who is positively thrumming with anger. “Why do you care?” Amber asks, darting her eyes to me.
“Because if my son wants to keep her out of harm’s way, then I do too. If my son wants you gone, then I do too.”
Amber’s shock is embedded in every pore. “Your son?”
Esther moves in, slowly and intimidatingly, backing Amber into the corner. “Be warned, you gold-digging, power-tripping slut. I will tear you to shreds if you’re not out of this house in one minute.”
“You’re his mother?”
“Get out,” Esther h
isses, moving back. “Or so help me God, I’ll—”
“What’s going on?” Danny appears, and I drink in air, bracing myself for the extended showdown. His gaze jumps between the three of us, lines perfectly straight across his forehead. I’m quiet. Esther backs up even more, falling into the subservient mode I’m familiar with. Amber, though . . .
She’s quick off the mark, quick to get her version of events across. She practically disintegrates on the spot, tears springing from her eyes like they were ordered on demand. Because they were. “Danny,” she breathes, shaking her head in a really amazing display of despair. “I was just—”
“Shut up, Amber. I told you I wanted you gone.” He doesn’t give her a chance to spill her lies. Walking calmly across the room, he lowers to his haunches and picks up the gun, turning it over in his hand a few times, inspecting it closely. Anyone would think he’d never seen one before. Looking up, still crouched, he holds it out. “Whose is this?”
I keep my mouth shut. I’m not a squealer, and Esther seems to have taken the same road as me, because she’s quiet too. Both of us still and silent, letting it play out without our input or intervention. Danny knows. Danny knows everything.
He slowly rises and wanders over to Amber. She’s quaking now, her back against the wall. “Did you pull a gun on my mother? Or was it my fiancée?”
The beauty of that word doesn’t get the chance to warm me. I’m too cold, too wary. Amber pastes herself tighter against the wall, fear filling her eyes and replacing the fake tears.
Danny shoves the gun into Amber’s chest, his jaw vibrating with fury. “For the last time, get out of my house.”
“She’s a rat,” Amber blurts desperately. “She was conspiring to take you down.”
“She took me down,” Danny breathes. “You’re nothing more than a slut I used when I needed to fuck without giving a fuck. Now, get the fuck out of my house.”
“But, Danny, I—”
Bang.
“Shit,” I yell, as I hear a screech. Then I wait for the thump of a body hitting the floor.
It doesn’t come. But my ears are suddenly ringing with Amber screaming.
“Out,” Danny growls.
And then she’s running. Because unless she’s really stupid, by now she should know that with Danny Black, there are no second chances.
Danny stares at the gun for a short while, before flicking the safety on and placing it on the coffee table. He turns to me, looking impassive, like he hasn’t just fired a gun at his ceiling. “About that TV time.” He points to the couch. “Get your arse on there.”
I’m moving faster than my self-respect should accept, sitting myself on the couch obediently and tucking my feet up under my ass.
“Can I get you anything?” Esther asks, heading out of the lounge. “Dinner?”
Danny pauses a beat, clearly thinking as my eyes bounce between mother and son. “We’ll eat,” he says curtly. “You’ll join us.”
“What?” Esther says what I’m thinking, though I choose not to make a big deal of it.
“You’ll join us,” he repeats, stoic. “Go relax. I’ll take care of it.”
I look at his profile as he studies his mother’s uncertain form, silently wondering what’s changed. My curious stare is concentrated; he must feel it, but I get nothing, no acknowledgement, so I turn my eyes onto Esther. She looks perplexed. “Who will cook?” she asks.
Danny shrugs, as if it’s nothing. “Me.”
I balk. Esther balks. “You will?” she asks.
“No man’s a man unless he takes care of the women in his life.” He says it with absolutely no emotion in his voice. But he doesn’t need it.
Esther tears up, and Danny moves in and takes her in a hug. I swallow to shrink the lump in my throat as Esther melts into him, her body jerking from her quiet sobs.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into her hair. “For everything.”
“Me too.” She furiously wipes her tears away when he releases her, smiling through her sadness. Then she leaves quietly, and I turn into Danny when he settles on the couch. I see peace reflecting back at me. “What’s changed?”
“Everything,” he murmurs, slipping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close.
Chapter 27
DANNY
* * *
Forgiveness. It’s a medicine that I’ve only just come to taste. One that I never once entertained trying. Not before now.
Music plays in the background as I sit at the table mindlessly chewing through the pasta dish I cooked, Esther and Rose chatting like I’ve never seen either of them chat. I try to comprehend the drastic change in direction that my life has taken. I’m struggling. I have priorities that I never once thought I’d have. I have a woman I adore. And a mother.
I even have a fucking conscience.
And . . . a heart.
My life isn’t about power anymore. I don’t feel strong. But I feel alive. I’m weak because of Rose, but I feel so alive. Typical, when at this moment in my life, I need to be the strongest.
“Are you finished?”
I look up from my forkful of pasta and find Esther standing, an empty plate in her hand, and Rose watching me as she takes a sip of her wine. Am I finished? I look down at my bowl. My dinner has hardly been touched. But I have no appetite. Not for food. Just for freedom. I rest my fork down and hand her my bowl. “Thank you.”
“You’ve hardly eaten,” Rose says, setting her glass down and pinching the stem. “You should have some more.”
I quirk an interested eyebrow at her, taking my own wine and easing back into my chair. “I asked you to marry me. That’s not a free ticket to nag me.”
Her scowl is adorable. So is Esther’s light chuckle as she carries the dirty dishes to the dishwasher. Rose seals her lips, though the twist of them is evidence that she’s finding it tricky to hold back her retort.
“I didn’t know you could cook,” Esther says from across the room.
“Neither did I,” Rose adds.
“Or me,” I admit. “Life’s full of surprises.” I level Rose with an accusing look. Another adorable scowl. Something stirs within me, and it’s not the need to rush her up to the bedroom. Pushing my chair out, I pat my lap in silent order. Her scowl remains firmly in place as she slowly stands from her seat and leisurely makes her way to me. As soon as she lowers to my thighs, I kiss that scowl away. “Ease off with the dirty looks,” I order, holding her around the waist as she links her arms over my head.
“You’ve made a woman very happy,” she says quietly.
“You’re welcome.”
“I don’t mean me.” She looks across the kitchen to Esther, who’s happily loading the dishwasher. “She has a twinkle in her eye.”
She really does. And she’s humming to herself while she potters around, a certain lightness to her steps. And she looks younger, far nearer her forty-seven years. “And what about you?” I ask, nudging Rose to win back her attention. “Do I make you happy?”
Her eyes are questioning, her smile unsure. “That’s a silly question. I just agreed to marry you.”
I shrug. “You could have been scared to say no.”
“Actually, I was scared to say yes.”
I nod mildly in understanding. We’re both way out of our comfort zones. “I was scared to ask.” I take her hand and bring her ring to my lips, kissing the diamond. “I’ve never been scared of anything in my life, Rose. Until you.”
“You don’t have to be scared of me.” Her fingers slip into my hair at my temples, massaging gently. “I am just a woman who loves a fucked-up man.”
“And I’m just a man who loves a fucked-up woman.” My hand finds her nape and pulls her mouth onto mine. “Always be strong for me, Rose.” I feel her frown through my kiss, though I try to kiss it away once more, limiting space for her to question my reverent words. It might only be Rose’s strength that sees us to the end of this nightmare.
“I’ll give you two some privacy.”
Esther’s voice interrupts our moment, and we both break away. “Thank you for dinner.” She smiles.
“Thank you for cleaning up my mess.” My gratitude is a simple display of appreciation. But it’s a first, and I can tell it means the world to her.
“Goodnight.” She bows her head and slips out of the room quietly.
And now it is only us.
Us and need.
I stand and help guide Rose’s legs around my back, and she smiles, her face close to mine. I walk us up to the bedroom as the speakers around the house keep our ears filled with music. The playlist moves to the next track, and The xx’s Intro begins as I place Rose on the end of the bed, pushing into her chest with my palm to encourage her down to her back. She goes with ease. Of course she goes with ease. The music seems to enhance my want, the dulcet, almost sexy beat sinking into me. I take her sweats and drag them down her legs, dropping them to the floor. Then I strip her of the lacy fabric concealing her from me until all that remains is the jumper. I don’t remove it, just push it up her chest until her bra-less boobs slip free. Her wounds are healing. Once they’re gone, there will be no more.
I cup one boob in each hand and massage gently, and she sighs, the breathy sound stretching on and on, her arms settling above her head. The fire inside of me crackles and spits, and my hands pause in their feeling, my gaze drifting across her face. If there were ever two people who were meant to be together, it’s us. It’s undeniable. Life to this point now seems like a compulsory trek through a warzone. A fight for survival in a world that would conquer me if I didn’t conquer it. It’s ironic that now, with every intention of walking away from that world, I find myself more fearful of a life without looking over my shoulder. A life without blood, sin, and death. Loving Rose is far scarier than any of those things. Or letting her love me. Yet it’s also unstoppable.
Together, we’re a force. An inexorable force. A dangerous force. But there are only two potential sufferers.
Me.
The Brit Page 33