SEVEN
Gigi
I creep an eye open and immediately regret it when panic starts to obliterate all my senses. Once I see a room I’m not familiar with I dart up in bed, black silk bedding pooling around my lap.
I finger the oversized T-shirt and the familiar scent strangely eases my anxiety, while the gears in my brain kickstart into motion.
The club.
The drunk man in the alley.
Harry.
The thought of him makes my brain hurt. As if I can still feel the lingering aftereffects of the drugs, I bring my hand up to my forehead and curse at the pounding headache. When I draw it back, I notice there are two small pills sitting on the countertop beside a bottle of water.
No, thank you, sir.
I learnt a hard lesson last night to be more careful what I let into my mouth, and most definitely from someone who I’m convinced hates my guts. Harry would probably drug me just to rid the earth of my existence. He does seem kind of like the type who could hide a body, so dark and mysterious.
Unlike your usual bedroom, this room is void of personality – no family photos, no dirty laundry, not even a speck of colour. The whole room is full of dark greys and black.
FUCK .
This must be a guest room.
I’m in Harry’s house.
In his guest room.
In a bed.
Now would be the prime opportunity to snoop.
Prying the sheets off my naked legs, I keep my footsteps as quiet as possible as I explore the room. I pull open a few drawers – clothes and nothing. I open the wardrobe doors, and except for a few shirts hanging up – nothing. Sinking to my knees, I pull back the covers to look underneath the bed.
A lone duffel bag lies in the centre of the floor. I crouch down further, ducking my head underneath the slats. My fingers stretch out and I wiggle the digits as if it’ll help—
A cough breaks the silence.
Shit!
I bring my head up quickly, banging it on the bedframe. I sheepishly stand and turn towards Harry, facing the most embarrassing moment of my life. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, with an amused look on his face as if catching women snooping through his belongings is second nature to him.
He fights a smirk. “I bet that didn’t help your headache.”
“Or my pride.” I rub at the sore spot.
“You’re not going to find any dead bodies under there. I hide those in another location.”
I scoff. Is he really making jokes right now? This man is far from the same person who’s done nothing but ignore me since I met him. I perch on the edge of the bed, fisting the sheets between my fingers to distract myself from opening my big mouth .
“Your phone. I charged it for you.” He takes a step forwards, placing it on the bed. “I notice you didn’t take the pills I left you … Good. You’re learning. There’s an unopened packet in the drawer.”
A frown forms between my brows and I scrutinise him with sharp eyes. “Why are you doing all this? You make it clear you don't like me. But for some reason, you saved me last night. You’re offering me painkillers. You let me stay in your guest bed—”
“In my bed.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re in my bed, Gigi. This is a one-bed house.”
I shoot up from the mattress as if it sparked me. “You’re wrong,” I say.
He cocks a single brow.
This isn’t his bedroom. It can’t be. I don’t even bother asking where he slept – he wouldn’t sleep in here with me. I imagine the sofa was rather uncomfortable last night.
Then I remind myself … His. Bed.
A rather intrusive thought filters through my brain of all the women he must have slept with in this room, and I suddenly want to vomit.
“Where are all your photos?” I ask. “No artwork. What about some comfy pillows?”
“I move around a lot. There’s no need to unpack everything each time.”
“Are you an ex-convict or something?”
His laugh is low and disgustingly sexy. “Something like that.”
Thirst overcomes me suddenly, and I peer at the bottle of water in my peripheral vision. It sits beside the two untouched painkillers, but I don’t dare touch it.
“It isn’t drugged. I promise.”
Now we’re making drug jokes.
Hilarious .
Despite how bizarre the situation is, I reach over and uncap the bottle – making a mental note that it was sealed – and take a long gulp to quench my thirst, wiping the excess residue with the back of my hand.
“Did your dad teach you to be such a gentleman?” I ask.
“I’d rather not learn anything from my father.”
Tough subject. Gotcha.
It’s then I remember Greg shares the same hatred for his father, and I suddenly feel awful for being an asshole.
“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t understand why you’re—”
“I have to head out and deal with some business, but I imagine the events of last night were a bit scarring. I can have someone stay here.” He types away at his phone screen without bothering to look up.
The comment is most definitely a backhanded way of saying I’m intruding.
Oh God, oh God, oh God, this is so embarrassing. He wants me to leave, but he’s being polite about it.
“Don’t be silly.” I shake my head. “I’ll just head back to my parents’.”
“Will they be home?” he asks, meeting my gaze finally. “The drugs are still wearing off.”
“Don’t be silly. I had an older brother – I know how to protect myself. He taught me not to be afraid of being alone.” I chuckle even though it’s really not that funny.
Harry pauses. “Had?”
“Lost him about five years ago.”
His jaw stiffens, and a peculiar emotion seems to drown him.
“I don’t need any sympathy, so please don’t tell me it gets better, because that’s the shittiest advice I’ve ever heard.”
There’s something unspoken behind his eyes, although I imagine he’s just contemplating whether or not to ask how he died. I save him the misery of asking .
“Police said it was a fatal collision and the body was obliterated in the blast. But if you were to ask what I think … I have a theory he was murdered. He was always hanging around dodgy people. But my parents won’t let me talk about it.”
Harry nods, processing the information.
God, why did I even tell him that? He probably wasn’t even going to ask. Now I look like a sad little girl spilling her sad little life story he didn’t even ask for. He’s probably regretting the very moment he let me into his house.
“Do me a favour,” he says. “Don’t leave the house today.”
Excuse me?
That was most definitely not what I expected him to say.
“Honestly, I’m fine. I’ll call Mia on my way home.”
“No need,” he says, a devilish smile spreading across his lips. “She’s already on her way.”
Harry waits around for as long as he can. There are less than ten minutes between his departure and Mia’s arrival, and his desperation to stick around until the last moment simply adds to my suspicions. Sucks for Harry, because as soon as he leaves I make a beeline for the duffel bag underneath his bed to continue snooping, but it’s disappeared.
Mia walks into the house shortly after and consoles me about the creep last night. Thankfully, she isn’t the type to hover, so after a brief pat on the back, a cry, and a big old explanation, she evades the sadness in the only way she knows how.
“Let me get this straight … you slept in his bed, but you didn’t shag him. ”
“He wasn’t even in there.” I shake my head. “He slept on the sofa.”
Seemingly unimpressed about our sleeping arrangements, she strolls leisurely round the house. “Why’s it so empty?” she asks, walking down the hall.
“He said he moves around a lot.”
There’s a pause, and for a moment I think she’s going to share a revolutionary discovery. Instead she says, “I had sex with Andy.”
I stifle a laugh. “Shocker.”
Mia doesn’t stop snooping, and I don’t stop her either. You’d think a man’s home would give you at least a little insight into his life, but Harry’s does quite the opposite. There’s nothing. It leaves me with more questions than I started with.
Mia returns to the kitchen, grabbing my attention. “Look at this!”
I trail behind her until she reaches a closed door in the hallway that escaped my attention until now. She turns the handle, but it doesn’t budge.
“It’s just a locked door,” I say. “He’s quite a reserved guy.”
“You’re saying to me it’s normal to have a locked door in your own house. That’s fucking weird, right?”
I step up beside her and try the door handle myself. It’s locked.
“Huh.” I shake the lock again. “Maybe it’s jammed.”
She shoots me a look that says, You’re kidding me, right?
“What are you guys doing?” a voice cuts through the silence.
Mia and I shriek in unison, heart rates spiking, as we turn round to the intruder in the hall.
It’s Greg, thank God.
Jesus, I feel like I’m in a goddamn horror film. Locked doors and jumpscares.
I place my palm on the wall, catching my breath. Meanwhile Greg stands at the entrance to the hallway. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest as he looks accusingly between the two of us. His gaze falters as it lingers on me.
“Whose shirt is that?” he asks .
What’s he talking about?
Frowning, I look over my shoulder at Mia, but her eyes are boring into mine warily. When I drop my gaze I realise I’m still in the cotton T-shirt I woke up in. The hem brushes my upper thighs, and I suddenly feel incredibly exposed.
“It’s not what you think.”
He takes a step closer, his expression stone-cold. “Where did you sleep last night?”
I frown and start, “That’s really none of your business—”
“My brother, Gigi … my fucking brother !”
I jump at the sound of his voice rising, and Mia grips onto the back of my arm.
“I warned you to stay away from him.”
Betrayal swirls in his eyes as I say, “It’s really not what you’re thinking.”
Not even remotely close, might I add.
The front door opens, diverting his anger. I only have a second to consider what that means as Greg whips his head towards where Harry and Andy are entering.
“You!” he roars, pointing a finger at Harry, who barely raises a brow as his brother storms over in a fit of rage. “What do you think you’re doing with her?”
“Greg …” I step forwards, attempting to defuse the situation.
“Shut up for a second!” he throws over his shoulder.
My body recoils as if he physically slapped me, and I watch the moment the words register. Harry’s eyes darken, and he looks a foot taller as he towers over Greg, staring down his nose at him. This side of Harry in the daylight is completely unrecognisable.
The darkness last night provided a camouflage over his actions, the precision and determination of hurting someone concealed in a dark alleyway. But during the day he looks untouchable. He looks like the devil in all forms of protective armour as his eyes darken, fists curling at his side.
“Talk to her like that again, brother. I fucking dare you.”
My eyes dart to the size of saucers.
“Why are you protecting her all of a sudden?” Greg throws back.
“I’d rather not relive the events of last night, and I’m sure the woman you claim is yours wouldn’t want to either. But I’ll entertain you for this conversation …” Harry steps forwards so they’re toe-to-toe. “I may not be a gentleman, but I don’t get off on seeing a helpless woman unable to defend herself.”
“You should have left her alone.” Greg shakes his head. “She’s not yours to protect.”
Mia gasps, her nails breaking the skin on the back of my arm, and then silence fills the air, ringing like painful white noise.
“Is that true? You told him we’re together?” I ask.
Greg turns to me slowly, his jaw clenched.
“Do you really think he shouldn’t have helped?”
“Yes,” he huffs. “Remember, I said—”
I slap him across the face. Hard. The sound of the impact echoes around the room. Someone sings a low whistle, but I’m not sure who.
“I was almost raped!” I screech, my voice cracking. “Thankfully, Harry was there in time. If he’d been just a minute later, then—” I force a swallow, watching his face become expressionless. “Or did you not realise that before you came in accusing me of something you know nothing about?”
“I … I didn’t know.” He attempts to console me by taking a step forwards, but I take a step back on instinct.
My hands stretch out in front of me, keeping him at arm’s length. “Don’t come any closer.”
Andy cautiously approaches Greg, clutches his shoulder, and mutters something quietly in his ear. He follows reluctantly towards the door, bowing his head.
When I turn to Harry, my breath catches at finding his eyes on mine. They say everything words would struggle to.
“Thank you,” I mouth.
A sliver of a smile reaches his lips.
“It’s okay,” he says back silently.