TWENTY-TWO
“AWW, HONEY,” Roxie cooed. “Were you worried I thought you’d lost your ever-loving mind to be attracted to a cretin like him?”
“Still Struan’s brother,” Tripp reminded her in the background. “And Sway’s ex.”
“That was Stockholm. No one will convince me different,” Roxie said, stroking her hair. “No, you can talk freely here, Bambi, honey. Tripp really would explode if he betrayed anyone’s confidence. And Struan’s loopy-lou for you, honey. There’s no denying that.” Stated as fact with a neutral expression like it was no big deal, Roxie glanced left and right. “Where is my drink again?”
“Wait ‘til you see this,” Tripp said, slouching low in the seat, resting muscular forearms on the arms. “This is where Roxie rights the wrongs of the world.”
“I don’t right the wrongs. I just call it like I see it. And this is a complete clusterfuck.” To calm herself, or maybe to soothe, Roxie guided them to the couch and seated them close together, arms still entwined. “You should’ve called me earlier.”
“I’ve never called you in my life,” Struan said, somehow knowing the woman meant him.
“Well, you should’ve. I shouldn’t have to hear this third hand from Tripp.”
“Third hand?”
“She was eavesdropping. She eavesdrops,” Tripp said, looping her in. “Roxie meddles.”
“I don’t know how I’ve been tagged with this label.”
“You denying it?”
“No, but don’t you think you should let people figure it out for themselves?”
“There’s only so many hours in the day, Rox Out. Sometimes skipping the first few pages is a good thing.” Switching it up, Tripp leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, cradling his glass in both hands. “Here’s what you need to know about Roxie Soon-to-be-Lomond.” He winked at Roxie and the woman tsked in return. “She’s a Chicago girl who takes loyalty seriously. She works hard to get things done, and almost as hard to hide that truth. She came from her regular girl life to her current billion-dollar status by way of a TV talk show contest that sent her around the world with the man now betrothed to marry her. God knows how drunk he was when making that decision. He’s always been staunchly anti-drugs, but I guess he could’ve been spiked or whatever.”
“Tri—”
“She’s smart, vicious when she needs to be, she’s astute. She talks too much and there’s nothing, honest to God nothing, that she wouldn’t do for someone, anyone, in need. Unless that someone wronged her, which means, yeah, pretty much everybody.”
“There are people I wouldn’t go to any lengths for.”
“Yeah, the people who wronged you, I just said—” Tripp shrugged. “Okay, I take back astute. She has the attention span of a gnat.”
“ My attention span’s—I’m sorry, how many women did you pick up on the way here?” Roxie asked. “And we came in a private car! How did you even manage to get that blonde’s number?”
“That blonde, this blonde, any blonde, I’ll take a brunette and a redhead too. I’m an equal opportunities fornicator.”
“Maybe I should tell Bambi what she needs to know about Tripp Breckenridge.”
“Maybe the two of you…” Struan said, coming over, holding out glasses to each of the women, “should stop sniping at each other and tell us why you came.”
“Not for nothing, Struan, baby, but in the movie, Bambi is a boy,” Roxie said for no reason she could fathom. “Everyone thinks he’s this cute, little, innocent fawn, but by the end of the movie, he’s a hot, horny stag I’d ride all kindsa ways.”
“Okay. Should I send out a press release?”
“I’m saying Bambi is not to be underestimated, perception doesn’t always tell the whole truth.” Roxie accepted her drink. “And he has excellent taste in friends.”
“Friends?”
“Thumper,” Tripp explained. “The rabbit. Like Lola Bunny.”
“That’s what you came to tell us? The deer and the rabbit will be friends?”
“You know why we came. It’s all over the place out there. Roman Lowe meets the woman of his dreams, moves on from the tragic mess that was his life. People are all over Sway. We’ve got folks camped outside the house.”
“Nothing new there,” Tripp said, accepting a glass from his friend. “What food have you got around here?”
“What do you want?”
“It’s after midnight,” Roxie said. “Maybe you two put a kibbutz on your feast and lose a few pounds while we straighten out some kinks. Pay close enough attention, you might learn something.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Rox Out.”
Tripp caught the bag of whatever Struan threw over their heads. He opened it to scoop a handful of nuts into his mouth.
“How can you still be hungry anyway?” Roxie asked. “You ate right before we came out.”
“A couple of times,” Tripp said. “Twins are twice the effort.” He pointed right at her. “Bambi knows what I’m talking about.” Ew. “A man needs to keep his energy up.”
“Okay,” Struan said on a snicker, seating himself at the opposite end of the couch, nearest his friend. “If the goal was to freak Bambi out, I think you’ve achieved it. We should kick you out, she’ll want to get to bed now.”
Putting it in that way reminded her of the previous night.
“These situations aren’t easy even when everyone is on the same page,” Roxie said, arching a brow, sipping from her glass. “Not bad.”
“Never going to beat your man in this house.”
Roxie’s smile became sly. “Never gonna beat him with your bank balance either.”
“Money means squat to you, Roxanna,” Tripp said. “Stru would run rings around your guy in the gym, then who’d take you home?”
“Ha!” Struan raised his own glass. “I forfeit. Roxanna Kyst is way too high maintenance for me.”
“How is Sway?” she asked, recalling what had been said about Roman’s ex. “Is this hard on her?”
“She’ll bounce. She’s a tough cookie.”
Roxie’s next drink was more generous. “And silently thanking the gods, I’ll bet. But this is going to explode soon. What’s the exit strategy?”
Tripp and Roxie had manners enough to glance at her first, but Struan was their ultimate focus.
“Are you looking at me? You think I make the rules around here? You think if I made the rules that things would go the way they always do?”
“Roman’s way?” Tripp said. “He doesn’t make the rules or follow them. He makes it up as he goes along. Maximum destruction, that’s what he cares about.”
“That’s not true,” Roxie said, lowering her glass to her thigh so an opposite fingertip could touch the surface of the liquid. “He cares about his ego, his reputation, his good looks. He cares about being popular. He cares about people liking him—no scratch that, he doesn’t. He wants people to worship him. He cares about his supposed supreme entitlement—”
“Okay, okay,” Struan said, tossing back half his drink. “We know where you stand.”
“Yet no one knows where you do. This is why Thea got into it with you too because you fail to look beyond the next twenty minutes. Suppose it’s something you and your brother have in common. You got this girl into this mess and now you want to turf her out into the world when you’re done with her? Just randomly tell the press one day, ‘hey, it’s over,’ and hope they don’t eviscerate her? You know Roman will never take the blame. He’ll never be grateful. He’ll throw her to the dogs and won’t even care that—”
“Magnus said I was protected from the press here.”
“Here? Maybe, but, at some point, tomorrow, the next day, six months from now, will you still be living under this roof pretending to be Roman’s girlfriend? Excuse me, fiancée?”
“Roxie—”
“You know how I feel about Z and I doing our thing to cover those who deserve it. I don’t know much about this girl. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it, but I honestly feel immensely sorry for you, Bambi. I can’t imagine having to spend five minutes smiling in Roman’s company, let alone doing it through a whole meal.”
“I won’t be here in six months,” she said, shifting position to get a better look at Struan at the other end of the couch. “Will I? Will I be here in six months?”
What was she really asking? Would she be playing Roman’s fiancée in six months? Would they still be sneaking around making out and copping a feel wherever they could? Seemed juvenile when she put it like that, but she couldn’t imagine being away from Struan if given half a chance. Except he lived with his brother, his obstinate, demanding, prima donna brother. Would Roman give her up? Hand her off to his twin? Forget about the press. Was anyone allowed to choose someone over Roman Lowe, in his eyes?
“From the blank stares and slack jaws. I’m going to assume there is no exit strategy.”
Tripp laughed. “Come on! You’re Queen of No Exit Strategy.
“Ah! Ah!” Roxie raised an erect forefinger. “Empress of No Exit Strategy. I’m going to guess as well that Roman doesn’t treat Bambi with much respect.” There was that questioning brow arch again. “Am I right?”
Diplomacy eluded her, instead, she aimed for contrite. “I try not to spend too much time with him.”
“No one wants to spend time with him, honey. I could tell from the pictures online he’s an asshole to you. Since getting with Zairn, we’ve been kind of lining them up and knocking them down when it comes to friends and acquaintances pairing up. Seen a lot of love this year, a lot of respect, a lot of decency, seen a lot of heartbreak too. Fundamentally, Roman doesn’t care about you. It’s written all over his face and I’m not even talking about when he’s looking at you. I mean that’s obvious in itself, but it’s—”
“The little things.”
Roxie gestured with her drink. “The little things. Exactly. He holds your hand like you’re an accessory. He doesn’t walk in front of you to protect you, he does it to put himself in the lens. He wouldn’t let anyone steal the show and you’re far more interesting. Everyone knows Roman Lowe’s story, where he’s come from, where he’s going, or where he wants to go, which may be two completely different places. What you need is a wing woman.”
“She does not need a wing woman,” Struan said, shaking his head fast, leaning over to put his glass on the coffee table.
“You’re afraid of me,” Roxie taunted.
“If he’s got half a brain, he’s afraid of you. I’m afraid of you.” Tripp swallowed more from his almost empty glass. “Can we get a bottle over here? We’re professionals.”
Struan got up to go fulfill his friend’s request. She supposed anyway.
“Then a wingman.” The future Mrs. Lomond was tenacious. “Let Tripp stick with her.”
“Not a chance.”
“You trust your best friend with your girl. They shouldn’t be either if you don’t.”
“I’d trust them both naked, alone, and drunk out of their minds, yeah. That’s not why it’s a bad idea.”
Even Tripp was shaking his head. “You know, Rox Out, I never walk away from a woman in need, but do you think I’ll make the situation better? Me in close proximity to Roman? How long ago was it I challenged him to a bareknuckle fight on the beach?”
“Hmm.” Rox’s head dropped to the side. “Good point. Well, if we can’t stay here, she’s coming with us.”
“I’m coming with you?”
“Excellent! That’s agreed.” Whoa, that was so not what she—did Roxie ever give up? “Magnus said you were safe here because they’d look after the press stuff for you. I can do that at Jane’s.”
“Jane’s?”
“It’s where Zairn and I stay when we’re in town. Most times. Jane’s our best friend and wedding planner. Tripp and I are staying there. It used to be Knox’s house, and then it was kind of Kintyre’s, but him and Lilya are on honeymoon at the moment, so we have plenty of extra room.”
“No, I wouldn’t want to impose on your friend. She doesn’t even know me, it wouldn’t be right to invite me—”
“No worries.” Tripp returned to his slouch, glass aloft when Struan appeared beside the chair to top it off. “She does it all the time.”
“What happened on set today?”
Oh, Roxie. As Struan sat again, he paused halfway to the backrest, absorbing the exact question he’d wanted to avoid.
“How do you know anything—”
“Because I have my sources.”
Tripp’s amused lips curled around the rim of his glass. “She eavesdrops.”
“I didn’t eavesdrop this, Priest. I heard it direct from an eyewitness. He had a tantrum and threw something at a producer.”
“Sound technician,” Tripp corrected.
“Oh, Mr. Breckenridge, sound technician, excuse me, that makes it okay then.” The blonde didn’t hang on to her sarcasm. “Do you know how dangerous that is, Stru? Your brother getting violent? With crew? When he’s supposed to be sober and—”
“I don’t need to be lectured,” Struan said, his hand leaving his leg. “I didn’t throw anything at anyone.”
“Yet you’re the one getting heat whenever he does something wrong,” Roxie said. “Every single time, and every single time you put up with it.”
“What do you want me to do instead? Throw you out? I’m not the one who’s done anything wrong.”
“Try focusing on the person who has and see that he’s not good for you.”
“So he should throw Roman out?” Tripp asked, maybe enjoying stirring the pot just a little too much.
“I don’t care what he does with Roman. I wouldn’t put up with it. I have an annoying sister whose mooching boyfriend is banned from calling my guy because he’s such an entitled jerk. I have zero patience when it comes to people screwing with those I love. There’s no law that says you have to live with your brother. Why not just leave?” As Struan answered, Roxie chanted along… “Because you won’t leave Bambi here alone.”
Somehow, Struan kept his good humor. “If you know the answer, why ask the question?”
“Okay, well problem solved, she comes home with me and Tripp. Everyone gets a breather. For the record though, you were here before Bambi got here. Your life is entwined with his.”
“I’ve heard this before.”
“And it never gets through. One of these days you’ll care about something enough to listen and see that what we’re saying is right.”
His unenviable position wasn’t made any better when the front door opened and bodies barreled in. Bodies? Magnus and Roman. Damnit. Caught.
“What the fuck are these people doing in my house?” Roman demanded.