by Bella Scott
Just as they reached the passenger side, Rose felt a hand on her arm. She whipped around to face one of the photographers, whose flash went off about a foot from her face. She winced.
All at once, Luke released her, and she forced her eyes open again just as his fist met the photographer’s stomach. Screams filled the air as the flashes multiplied tenfold, and Rose grabbed Luke by the arm and pulled him back. He was still glaring daggers at the man he’d punched, who had fallen back to be caught by another pair of black-clad paparazzi.
“Just get in the car,” Rose begged Luke.
He nodded stiffly and crossed the Miada’s front end, and he climbed in just as she did the same on the other side. As they pulled away from the curb, the shouts and flashes followed them, but the roaring in Rose’s ears slowly receded. Her breathing remained rapid and shallow.
“I’m sorry.”
When Luke’s voice cracked on the second word, she had to look at him. His mouth was pressed into a tight line, and his knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
“Why?” she asked. The word was all she could force out past the tightness of her chest.
“I… I saw how panicked you were, and I didn’t want them touching you. But I don’t want you to be scared of me. The last time I snapped…”
“Hush.” She reached out and squeezed his arm, and he let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not scared of you. And thank you for looking out for me.”
He removed one hand from the wheel to squeeze hers.
Chapter Thirteen
Luke paced the lounge, a glass of bourbon in his hand. His head was warm and light and numb enough that he could almost forget the throbbing of his knuckles. Rose had already gone to bed, and he’d tried to go with her, but he hadn’t been able to sleep. His mind was racing, trying to process what had happened. He’d needed to get up and move.
Paparazzi had followed him more than once before. He’d been living in the public eye for years—anyone who wanted dirt on his mother usually went through him. The barfight had put a huge strain on their relationship that he had been fighting to mend ever since. Now he’d punched a paparazzo just outside her campaign fundraiser, and he could only imagine how angry she was going to be.
And then there was Rose. She’d said she wasn’t scared of him, and he wanted so badly to believe her. Still, he couldn’t stop replaying the night she’d left him in his mind. She’d looked terrified when he’d caught up to her outside the bar.
“I never thought you could do something like—They were your friends. People you were friends with did this to me.”
Calvin and Lorenzo had only ever been glorified acquaintances, really. Friends by coincidence, because they had shared classes in high school and played on the same hockey team and moved on to the same college. They and Rose and Alex had been a few of many young people who’d traveled from the Chicago area to Carbondale to school. It was as far away as one could go within Illinois; in-state tuition combined with hours of distance between oneself and one’s family had made it irresistible. He’d hoped he could trust Calvin and Lorenzo more than actually trusted them, because he hadn’t known them as well as he should have before he’d left Rose alone with them. They’d proven his attempt at trust miserably misplaced. Alex and Wyatt had been his real best friends, along with Rhys, whom he’d hoped to see at the fundraiser but had reportedly been out of town. Luke had thought of those three like brothers. He bit back a bitter laugh at the thought of what his relationship with Alex had become.
At least Wyatt had been kind to Rose tonight. Luke hadn’t expected any less, if they ran into one another, but he’d still appreciated Wyatt’s effort more than he knew how to say. He hadn’t been prepared to face his family at the point when Wyatt had attracted their attention, but that had worked out better than he could’ve hoped. Lenore had been there to help things along, and his parents…
He sighed heavily and dropped into the chair beside the dormant fireplace. He’d worked so hard to rebuild his reputation. His career. His relationship with Rose. Had he blown it all in one night?
His phone buzzed from the bar, and he rubbed at his temples. No matter which family member it was, he wasn’t in the mood. But he knew he couldn’t hide from them forever. He might as well rip the bandage off now.
He drained the rest of his glass and stood, setting it down a little harder than he meant to when he reached the bar. With a deep breath, he looked at his phone’s screen—Why is that buzzing so loud? It’s going to crack my head in two.—to find that his mother was the one calling.
He tapped the “Answer” button and lifted the phone to his ear.
“Hello?” He flinched as soon as he’d spoken. His voice had come out rough and hard, and he knew she was going to suspect that he’d been drinking for a while.
“I’d like to hear it from you,” said his mother. Her tone was even, restrained. “What happened?”
Luke inhaled. “We were trying to get to the car, and the vultures wouldn’t leave us alone. Putting cameras in our faces. Yelling at us. ‘Does your mother approve?’ ‘Does Alex know you’re here together?’ ‘Are you pregnant?’”
If his glass had still been in his hand, he would’ve dropped it. Instead, he braced his palm against the cold bar and shut his eyes tightly. You’re a moron, he told himself.
A beat of silence passed before his mother spoke again.
“Is she?”
“Yes.”
He heard his mother sigh. “Were you planning on telling me?”
“Of course I was, Mom. When it was the right time. We’ve only been speaking again for a few days. Rose showed up in the middle of that storm the other night, and she needed my help.”
“So it’s not yours?”
Luke stared at the dark marble surface beneath his palm. The light it reflected from the chandelier was too bright for his intoxicated mind. His glass sat beside his thumb, empty and taunting him. “Not biologically, no,” he mumbled.
“What does that mean?” His mother’s tone took on a bit of bite at last. He knew she was fighting hard to hold herself back, but he couldn’t entirely blame her for being short with him.
“It means that Rose wants to be with me, not Alex. I want to raise this child with her.”
A pause followed.
“You never stopped loving her, did you?”
“Not for a second.” Luke paced to the window and looked out at the street beyond the house’s long driveway. He saw dark shapes moving along the hedges, and he bit the inside of his cheek.
“Then if this is really what you both want, I’ll support you. But you need to realize how hard this is going to be, and you need to be smart. You can’t go around punching the paparazzi, Luke.”
“You know that’s not something I make a habit of. One of them grabbed her.”
“I’ll pass that on, but I’m sure Stein’s people don’t care.”
Luke froze with his hand on the thick green curtain and raised a brow. “You think he hired them?”
“Of course he did. He’s running against me for a second time, and he knows he might be able to win if he makes me look bad enough.”
“The state loves you.” Frowning, Luke turned away from the window and returned to his chair. He dropped into it heavily and massaged his aching temple.
“The point is, Stein saw an opportunity and he took it. I wouldn’t put it past him to try again. Were you followed from the hotel?”
“Yes,” Luke said flatly. “I’m pretty sure it’s the same assholes outside the house right now. I can only imagine how many of them will be here in the morning.”
“Then the two of you should get out of town.”
Luke blinked. “What?”
“I’ll book your tickets tonight. Why don’t you go to the island for a while and let things… cool off a little?”
Luke’s mind raced. His parents owned a piece of land on St. Croix in the Caribbean, and the idea of spending time alone with Rose away from all this stress was
absurdly appealing. He could tell his office he was finally using the vacation days he’d accumulated over the past few years. If she could do something similar, it did seem like their best option.
“Let me talk to Rose and get back to you. She’s asleep—can you hold off until morning?”
“Yes. Just let me know as soon as you can.”
Luke nodded. A thought struck him, and though he fought hard to keep it in, he couldn’t stop it from working its way up his throat. “Are you ashamed of me?”
“No,” his mother said, though he thought the answer was a little too quick. “No, honey. I’m just trying to protect you.”
He stared at the half-burned logs in the dark fireplace.
***
In her dream, Rose was running hand-in-hand with Luke through Chicago’s streets, and no matter how hard they pushed themselves onward, they couldn’t shake the paparazzi tailing them. Her high heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk, and she woke before her dream-self could hit the ground.
She was overcome immediately by a wave of nausea. She sat up quickly and threw off the covers, inwardly shouting at herself as she realized her carelessness might wake Luke, who was shirtless and passed out beside her. She ran for the bathroom adjoined to his bedroom, and she threw up what little she’d eaten the day before into the toilet. When she’d finished, she pulled herself off the cold tile floor and washed her hands, and then she splashed her face with cool water, trying to pull herself together.
If this was what pregnancy was going to be like for the next several months, she needed to get used to it.
At a gentle touch on her shoulder, she turned to find Luke watching her, worry in his eyes.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Just morning sickness.”
“Is there anything I can get you?”
She shook her head. “I’ll eat something after my stomach settles, but for right now, I just want to lie down.”
He nodded and led her back to bed, and she rested her cheek against the warmth of his chest. She focused on the steady rise and fall of his breath and his heartbeat in her ear, and in a few minutes, the nausea receded.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“For what?”
“All of it.”
After a moment, she felt the light brush of his fingers trailing through her hair. “My mom thinks we should take a vacation.”
At this, Rose looked up, raising a brow as she met his green eyes. “Why does she think that?”
“Those idiots followed us home last night.”
A blend of emotions swept over her—anger and fear at the thought that they couldn’t even consider themselves untouchable here; elation that he’d called the house “home,” like it was hers now, too.
“She thinks Stein sent them,” Luke continued.
“The guy who’s running against her?”
He nodded. “I’m sure she’s right. He’s not the first of her rivals to try to use me to make her look bad. He’s just the most persistent.”
“So where are we supposed to go? I’m scheduled to work today.”
“Do you have any time off saved?”
She shrugged noncommittally. She knew she was going to need time off when the baby was born, so the idea of taking any now seemed like too much of a risk. But the notion that these people were so determined to pry into her personal life and Luke’s that they would follow them out of the city and to his house in Winnetka was so unsettling that she was tempted.
“I guess I can call the office,” she said. “Talk with my boss.”
“Okay.” He leaned down and kissed her softly, and her stomach fluttered at the touch of his lips.
***
Goosebumps rose all over her body as her bare feet paced the bathroom tile. She held her phone to her ear, and her boss picked up after the first ring.
“Essence Designs, this es Beatrice. How may I help ye?” Her voice was high and clear, and though her tone was polite, it was also firm. Rose had called her boss’s direct line, and she knew Beatrice didn’t enjoy being bothered if a problem could be solved by anyone else.
“Hi, Bea. It’s Rose.”
At the sound of her boss’s quiet gasp, Rose raised a brow.
“Ye could’ve told me you’re datin’ Senator LeBlanc’s son.” Beatrice’s voice had shifted to conspiratorial, almost playful. Her slight Scottish accent almost made Rose smile—she’d always loved hearing it. “An’ is it true about the baby?”
“Oh, God,” Rose muttered. She sat down at the edge of the large white whirlpool tub, which would easily fit two people. “Where did you hear all that?”
“It’s… don’t go near a newspaper.”
Rose closed her eyes and lowered her head into her hand. “How the hell did they manage that?”
“Who? What’s happenin’?”
Inhaling deeply, Rose debated the best way to phrase her answer. “So essentially, a bunch of paparazzi followed us out of Luke’s mom’s fundraiser last night, and they already knew about the pregnancy.”
“So ye are expectin’!”
“Yes. I just found out, so I hadn’t told anyone yet, other than Luke. And Alex.”
“Oh, aye! I forgot about him! Where’s he in all thes?”
Rose leaned her head against the white-painted wall, wondering how her life had become so much of a disaster that her boss sounded as excited as she did when she gushed about the latest celebrity gossip.
“I left Alex. I’m with Luke.”
“Explains why he punched—well, I’m sure he had a good reason tae—”
“Yes, he did.” Rose’s voice came out sharper than she’d intended, and she took a breath before plowing onward. “So basically, Senator LeBlanc wants us to lie low for a little while, until this blows over. Would I be able to take a few days off?”
“Take as much time as ye need. Just please keep me updated.”
Rose knew Beatrice cared about her, and she tried not to be bothered that the way her boss had asked sounded more like she was eager for the next episode of a show than like she was actually concerned.
“I will. Thank you.”
She hung up and laid the phone on the white countertop, not wanting to face anyone else who might be trying to pry this morning, and returned to the bedroom. Luke sat at the edge of the bed, his hands braced on the knees of his sweatpants as he watched her expectantly.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Chapter Fourteen
Luke heaved the suitcases into the trunk of his Miada. Almost everything Rose had carried with her to his home had fit into the suitcase she’d brought, and he still found it odd. She’d always carried at least a large purse when she was going out for even for a few hours, and he’d expected her to bring more with each trip she made to the apartment she’d shared with Alex.
The first time she’d gone back, she hadn’t brought anything new—he knew she’d gotten into a fight with Alex, and he couldn’t blame her for being too distracted to bring her books or her vast array of shoes or anything else. But when he’d taken her back before the fundraiser, she’d still only grabbed a few dresses, a few pairs of heels, and the contents of her nightstand. Luke knew she was still having trouble with the idea that she was leaving her home, and he hoped that over the course of this trip, he could make that somewhat easier on her. She would have somewhere to go. A new home. It wasn’t like she had to start over completely.
He couldn’t imagine what was going through her mind. He tried often, and he liked to think that she was happy with him. That she’d been enjoying herself the previous night before the paparazzi had cast an enormous black cloud over all their plans. But he couldn’t silence the fear that he was dragging her along on this grand escape from the people who disapproved of him while she wanted to be somewhere else.
He’d seen the damned reporters moving through the bushes at the other end of the long driveway a few times this morning, and he hoped they knew that if they set one foot closer than that o
nto his property, they would have a lawsuit on their hands.
He shut the trunk with a sigh, and as he turned away, he caught sight of a red Camaro pulling up the driveway. He froze.
Alex.
He’s crazier than I thought.
On instinct, Luke’s fists clenched. He knew he wasn’t in the right state of mind to deal with Alex, after everything that had happened with the paparazzi. He was on edge enough—even Rose’s boss had known the full story already, and it had been less than twelve hours, so Luke couldn’t imagine how far the news had spread—without dealing with his former best friend, too.
Luke turned back to his car, bracing himself with his palms pressed to the trunk. He pulled in a deep breath and told himself he could handle this. He could deal with Alex himself, and Rose wouldn’t even have to know he was here.
He heard Alex’s engine shut off, and when the sound was followed by the car door opening and closing too hard, he gritted his teeth. He turned toward the crunch of gravel.
“I don’t even know where to start,” said Alex, his voice cold and sharp.
Luke’s fists clenched tighter as his pulse pounded in his temples. “I’d say an explanation as to what you’re doing here would be as good a place as any.”
“Cut the shit, Luke.” Alex stopped a few feet away from him, arms folded across his chest, fingers digging into his sleeves. “You’ve been around her again for ten seconds, and you’re already putting her in danger?”
“What?” Luke stepped forward, glaring daggers at the taller man. He considered himself tall at 6’1”, but Alex had several inches on him. Still, Luke knew he could take his former friend easily.
“Look. I get why you did what you did the night you two split up.” Alex’s voice dropped with these words, and he glanced behind Luke at the house. Luke understood—neither of them wanted Rose to hear anything about the barfight. He almost respected Alex again for this unspoken agreement, but with his pulse roaring in his ears and the accusation that he’d endangered the woman he loved still hanging in the air, he wasn’t about to admit anything of the sort. “Cal and Lorenzo deserved what they got. But you scared the hell out of her then. And what do you think you did last night?”