Chapter 30 Asha
ASHA
After dinner, Rook disappeared into his home office to gather the information I’d asked for on his brother. I was eager to dig into it tomorrow and learn more about Niall.
I’d spent most of the day ignoring Rook’s demand that I sleep in his bed, but I couldn’t avoid facing it any longer. I didn’t care what he said; I wasn’t having it.
There was no way in hell I’d return to that mattress. To the sheets that held his scent. To the memories of his hands on my skin, his mouth at my neck, whispering things like he meant them.
Before everything had changed.
The betrayal still burned in my chest, sharp and ugly.
So, fine. If Rook insisted I stay nearby, he’d just have to deal with me sleeping on the damn floor.
I snatched a few cushions from the sofa and some blankets from a linen closet and made myself a decent little nest between Rook’s bed and the window.
Next, I rifled through my belongings in the walk-in closet, looking for a pair of pajamas.
Everything was arranged neatly in racks and custom cabinetry.
I tried not to overthink the reactions of Rook’s men when they’d found the stash of adult toys in my nightstand drawer, because I doubted my favorite gadgets had gone unnoticed.
Strange. I couldn’t find the comfortable sleepwear I usually opted for—loose cotton pants and a cami—only a few silk slips.
Nice try, jerk.
If Rook had purposely left my cozy pajamas at my apartment, thinking I’d slide into something sheer and revealing just for him, he was dead wrong. I opted for an oversize Temple University tee and a pair of black bike shorts instead.
I washed my face, brushed my teeth, then tucked myself into my makeshift bed, half expecting Rook to walk in and grumble about my disobedience. But he didn’t show, and despite my anxiety over sleeping in a mobster’s apartment, I fell asleep quickly.
I woke with a start when my blanket was torn away. Warm arms scooped me up.
Rook.
“What are you doing?” I groaned.
“Putting you to bed.” He tossed me onto the mattress.
I pushed up on my elbows and glared at him. Rook stood at the side of the bed, shirtless and with water still glistening at the tips of his hair. A damp curl slid down his brow, framing those ridiculously carved cheekbones.
The sight of him made my breath catch and an unwanted tingle stir in my belly.
Damn him for being so stupidly hot.
“Stay.” He pointed at me as if I were some unruly mutt.
I sneered. “I’m not your dog.”
“No. Dogs are far more obedient and less troublesome than you.”
Wiseass.
I’d show him trouble.
I made a move for the edge of the bed.
He lunged, caught me around the waist, and hauled me to the center of the mattress. And then we were chest to chest, him over me, his big body caging mine.
“Must you fight me on everything, woman?” he bit out.
“Must you always be a bossy asshole?”
“Aye, and I have no intention of changing.”
I twisted beneath him and aimed a knee at his groin. He dodged it and wedged himself between my thighs.
“Rook,” I said firmly.
I shoved at his shoulders, but he was too big. Too strong.
Then he trapped my wrists in one hand and held them between us.
Maybe it was the darkness of the room or the fact that I was barely awake, but I couldn’t stop the panic clawing up my throat.
Dread roiled in my stomach. A cold sweat broke out across my skin. I couldn’t breathe, could hardly see.
Suddenly, I wasn’t in Rook’s bed, and it was another man smothering me.
Pinned. Powerless.
Beer breath. Stale cologne.
No one around to hear my muffled cries pleading for it to end.
“Stop,” I said, my voice sharp with fear.
Rook released me instantly. It was enough to bring me back from the brink. To get air into my lungs again.
His eyes darted over me, looking for whatever had caused me to freak out.
“Easy, Wildfire,” he murmured as if soothing a nervous horse. “You’re safe with me.”
Rook might be manipulative, dangerous, and possessive to the point of obsession—facts I could never forget—but he wasn’t like him. Both my gut and my head told me that.
“What was that?” he asked.
I blinked away the moisture in my eyes. “Nothing.”
“It was definitely something. You looked bloody terrified.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re terrifying.”
“Aye, but not to you. You’ve looked at me like you want to murder me plenty of times, but you’ve never looked at me like that.”
Words stuck in my throat. How did I explain this?
Rook tilted his head, narrowed his eyes. He looked deep into my soul, and I could’ve sworn he saw every horrid memory there.
Then he stilled completely except for a flexing at his jaw. Every muscle in his body tensed.
“Who?” he growled. “Who hurt you?”
“We’re not talking about this.” I turned my face away, not wanting him to see fresh tears forming.
He clasped my chin and forced my gaze back to his. “Tell me. I want a name and last known location. Photo if you have it.”
“Rook—”
“I’ll kill him for what he did to you.”
Of course he would. It was the only language he knew.
Maybe part of me wanted that, too.
And maybe an even sicker part of me was excited that Rook would deliver justice to my abuser in a way I’d only ever dreamed about.
But it wasn’t as simple as that.
Greg Holbrook was powerful and connected in the journalism industry. If he went missing, it’d be a media frenzy. I didn’t want to see his face splashed all over the news, nor did I want to read headlines framing him in the most glowing terms. Hero. Pioneer. Advocate. Not predator. Not monster.
“I’m not ready,” I whispered. “Please, if you want to protect me, just leave it alone.”
Rook stared at me, a frown etched deep into his face. “For now.”
Then he sat up and gathered me into his lap. Those muscular arms wrapped around me as though I were made of fine glass.
“What are you doing?” I asked, stunned.
“Holding you.”
“Why?”
“Because you need me to, woman. Now, stop complaining and let me do this. Otherwise I’m going to feel like a proper shite for scaring you just now.” He smoothed my hair with his hand while I soaked up his warm embrace. “I’d never hurt you like that.”
“I know.”
“I’m still the same man you met at the bar, still the same man who worshiped you that night.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Damn him for saying things like that. For sounding like he meant them. Even now, with my heart bruised and my trust shredded, Rook made me forget who we were to each other.
“But it was all a lie, Rook. None of it was real.”
“That’s a load of shite, and you know it.”
I…I didn’t know how to respond to that.
I wanted to deny it, to accuse Rook of more manipulation. But the truth was that small, unexpected pieces of this complicated man kept digging their way under my skin, making it harder to tell where lies ended and something real might begin.
He’d let me continue the podcast and built me the studio of my dreams.
He was protective of me—obsessively so—and I didn’t hate it.
He’d even bought me my favorite food despite the smell dragging him back to the moment he’d learned his brother had been murdered.
A brother he’d loved more than anything. A brother he still grieved and wanted to avenge.
I couldn’t fault him for that.
And yes, the night we’d spent together had been beautiful and amazing. If it had felt the same to Rook, what did that mean?
He sighed into my hair and kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry for being an arse and making you afraid.”
“Thank you.” I moistened my lips. “Does that mean you’ll let me sleep on the floor?”
“Not a fucking chance.” He gripped me tighter.
I didn’t smile. Not exactly. But my lips twitched, and my chest loosened a little because his arms, God help me, did feel good.
And that terrified me more than anything.
Boundaries, Asha. Set clear boundaries.
But then I remembered what Finn had said earlier. Rook had a woman in his life. Maybe I wasn’t the only one he demanded sleep beside him.
Something like jealousy churned inside me, sour and ugly. “Won’t your girlfriend have a problem with me sharing your bed?”
Rook stilled. “My what?”
“You heard me. Finn mentioned her this morning. I didn’t imagine it.” I said, sitting up slightly. “You’re an asshole for lying about being single. Does this woman you’ve been seeing know you’ve gotten married?”
He blinked at me as if I’d grown two heads. Then, because he was the actual worst, he threw his head back and laughed. “Aye. She knows.”
I slapped his shoulder. “What’s so funny?”
“There’s no one else, you daft lass. The mystery woman is you.”
“Me?”
“You think I’ve got time to follow you around the city, run an international crime syndicate, and keep a girlfriend on the side?”
I wanted to argue, to call him a liar, but the fight died out of me, leaving only the warmth of relief. Better not examine that too closely.
No matter how messed up it was, some foolish part of me had needed to hear that he wasn’t sleeping with someone else.
Fine. I could do this. I could sleep next to a sexy, unhinged criminal who made my toes curl while giving me a stress ulcer and unhealthy blood pressure.
“Rook?”
“Aye, love.”
Why did my stupid tummy flip when he called me that? “Where are my pajamas?”
He paused before answering. “My men packed them, didn’t they?”
“Not the ones I usually wear. You had those left out on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Don’t hate me for wanting to see you in silk.”
“You’re unbelievable.” I eased out of his arms.
He had the gall to huff with disappointment as I settled under the covers and shoved spare pillows down the middle of the bed.
Rook turned off the bedside lamp. “Sure you don’t want to cuddle?”
I grunted, tugged the duvet up to my chin, and wriggled to the bed’s farthest limit. “I’d rather spoon a giant cactus.”
He let out a short chuckle. “If you get cold during the night, you know where to find me.”
How had this shit show become my life?