Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
CLOVER
I’m still pinching myself over the fact that I got to hear Leonardo Eisoli in concert for the last hour and a half. His melodies are dancing around in my head, and I feel like I’m floating on a cloud. A musically induced cloud of happiness. Even Roman’s in a better mood.
“That was nice,” I admit in the darkness of the car.
“Am I growing on you, Daly?”
I scoff, patting him on the arm where I can feel his hard muscles. “Don’t flatter yourself, champ.”
He laughs, and I need to bite down on the smile that’s threatening to come. I wish his laugh didn’t sound so deep and perfect and compelling.
My phone vibrates, and I pull it out of my clutch. I’ve got a new email from my agent. Not wanting to miss one of those in case it’s important, I open it up.
Clover, I’ve seen the paparazzi pictures. You look exhausted. Did you not remember you were being photographed tonight? I can book you in with an esthetician. We always want to put our best foot forward. And don’t overdo it on the weights.
- Anita Percival, Owner & Lead Agent, Talent House Hollywood
With that, any of the warm and fuzzies tonight gave me up and vanish. In their place, dread pools. Why can’t I be enough as I am?
As we continue to drive in silence, I fold in on myself, trying to make myself look as small as I’ve been made to feel with all this bullshit.
From the corner of my eye, I clock Roman noticing me.
I have no idea what he’s looking at or what he’s thinking, but feeling scrutinized by him is the last thing I need right now.
“You know what, here’s good.” I tap the dashboard of the car quickly with my palm.
“We’re still a few blocks away from your place, and it’s dark,” he says, confusion painting his voice.
“Yeah, no, that’s fine. I can get out here and walk the rest.” Is it just me, or is it way too hot in this car?
Out of nowhere, it feels like my body temperature has risen a handful of degrees, and I desperately need fresh air.
I pull at the neckline of my dress, simultaneously wanting to be covered and also wanting to be free of it.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m going to get out here. Thanks.” The very millisecond the car rolls to a stop, I’m out of there.
“Clover—”
“Bye!” I call out as I shut the car door, leaving a stunned Roman inside.
I wish there were somewhere else I could go. One of the last places I want to go is back to my apartment. Of course I want to see Smokey and get some snuggles, but the prospect of running into Maren on the way in is as appealing as waxing with a hot glue gun.
When I enter the apartment, I hear a hissing sound as the faucet runs in the bathroom. I can hear her cursing under her breath.
“Maren?”
“Yeah.” She sounds incredibly annoyed. Unfortunately for me, I have to walk past the bathroom to get to my room, anyway.
When I round the corner into the hallway, she’s running her arm under the tap, gingerly applying soap to her forearm.
“What happened?” Stepping forwards I peer over her shoulder to see an angry, long scratch marring her otherwise perfect skin.
“Oh, nothing, I nicked it in the kitchen.” She moves to cover the bleeding red line.
“On what?” I ask, mentally taking inventory of all the things in the kitchen and what could’ve caused that.
“Nothing, lay off, Clover,” she growls before pushing past me. What the hell?
Normally she’s cold and weird, but that was a little extra for her. Shaking my head, I go into my room, where I can see Smokey’s been up to no good.
As soon as I open the door, I’m hit with a tidal wave of scent.
It’s cloying and so intense I cough. It smells like a jasmine flower and a peach teamed up to punch me in the face.
The smell is so aggressive it has me running to the window to open it as wide as possible.
Looking around to see what happened, the top of my dresser has a few items strewn about, obviously batted around by trouble-seeking paws.
When I look down, I find the source of the smell.
My perfume bottle lies broken on the ground beside my dresser, contents soaking the laminate floor. Great.
Smokey is agitated, and lets out a howl or two as I closely inspect her paws, making sure there are no glass shards in them. I carefully navigate around her claws, counting my lucky stars that she’s never been much of a scratcher.
“You okay, girl?” I ask as I look between the fur lining the pads of her feet. Aside from being a bit pissed off at my inspection, she seems fine. A little keyed up from the smell, I figure.
With a quick kiss to the top of her head, I free my little minion and begin cleaning up.