Chapter 47
Forty-Seven
LULU
Today has been a lot.
Between training with Mateo, overhearing my father and my supposed betrothed’s name in Rome’s office, my freak-out that was incredibly embarrassing, having the tracker put into the inside of my arm, and training with Carson this afternoon, I’m spent.
Spent.
God, I’m tired.
“You did good,” Carson says as we clean our weapons. “You both have excellent aim.”
“She’s better than me,” Scarlett says, nudging me with her shoulder. “This isn’t your first time.”
“No.” I notice that Carson’s eyes narrow on me. “I took lessons behind my father’s back.”
But then I remember that my dad admitted to knowing about my classes, something I would have sworn he didn’t know, and now I’m not so sure if he was in the dark about my target practice.
Probably not, now that I think about it.
“Why?” Carson asks.
I’ve had to talk about my asshole of a sperm donor a lot today. I don’t like it.
“Because he was a bastard,” I reply simply and glance at Scarlett.
Having to explain why I took so long to return to her was not fun.
I was much calmer than when I was in Rome’s office, but she could still tell I was rattled.
From her sniffles when we were learning self-defense to finding out more about my past, needless to say, she was distraught.
She hasn’t told me her full story yet, but I’m learning there are a lot of buried scars at Rapture.
But now to explain why I learned to shoot.
“I suspected that I might need to know how one day. But it’s been a long time since I’ve practiced. ”
“You’ll be practicing every day until further notice,” Carson says.
“I think it’s kind of badass,” Scarlett says with a smile. “And Luke thinks it’s sexy.”
“It is sexy,” I agree. “You look damn hot when you’re shooting that gun.”
Carson’s eyes gleam with humor. “It’s not about that.”
“I know, I know.” I roll my eyes at him. “It’s about self-defense. But it’s okay if looking hot while we do it is a bonus. Are you seeing anyone, Carson? Are you married? Kids?”
He simply shakes his head slowly. “Fuck no.”
“Huh.”
Scarlett smiles.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Carson asks.
“Nothing.” I shake my head and set the weapon back in its carrying case. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. You’re handsome. You’re funny. I figure someone would snatch you up.”
“I’m also an assassin, and most of the time, I’m an asshole.”
I blink at him, not at all surprised about the assassin admission.
Carson is intense. And he looks … scary.
“No one’s perfect.”
His lips twitch at that, and then we’re making our way to the elevators, where the guards who have been shadowing us all day are waiting.
“You’re not going up with us?” I ask Carson when he doesn’t get on the elevator.
“I have work.” He crosses his arms over his chest, watching us.
“Have a good night,” I call out to him.
“Be careful,” Scarlett adds, and Carson’s eyes fill with humor again before the doors close.
After dropping Scarlett off on her floor, my two guards ride with me up to the penthouse.
I thank them, then walk inside and let out a deep breath.
I’m off work tonight, and I’m glad. I need to disassociate for a while.
To just put on a mindless TV show or listen to music and simply be.
Rome will probably be at work all evening, so I’m just going to zone out.
I don’t want to think.
I don’t want to be in charge or worry about anything.
But before I can walk upstairs to shower and get cozy, Rome comes strolling out of the den, his hands in his pockets.
He’s still in his slacks, but he shed his jacket at some point, and his black dress shirtsleeves are rolled up his forearms, showing me some of his tattoos. His blue eyes brighten when he sees me, and a sly smile works its way over his lips.
“You’re home.” He walks, his body lithe and lean and so fucking beautiful, straight to me, and his hands come up to my face. He kisses me gently at first, then he deepens the kiss, stealing my breath.
If I wanted my mind to empty, he just did a good job of it.
“How was target practice?” he asks against my lips.
“I’m sorry, what? You just kissed all of my brain cells away.”
He grins and does it again, drifting those magical lips over mine, and my knees feel weak. My hands fist in his shirt, holding on for dear life as he sinks into me.
When he finally comes up for air, he brushes my hair behind my ear.
“How are you, firefly?”
“Tired. Overstimulated. And now, I’m turned on.”
He kisses my forehead. “Are you hungry?”
“Now that you mention it, yes. We have some leftover lasagna. Would you like some?”
“That’s too heavy for what I have in store for you tonight.” He hasn’t stopped touching me. His fingertips drift down my neck and over my collarbone.
“How about some soup and sandwiches? There’s still the beef with vegetables I made the other day and grilled cheese sandwiches.”
“Perfect.” He tips my chin up. “Here’s what I want you to do. Are you listening?”
Of course, I’m listening, but I’m also enjoying the feel of his hard, warm body against me.
“Yes.”
“Go upstairs and take a shower. I want you to put your hair up in a bun off your back. Dress in something comfortable and come down to eat. I’ll get dinner ready.”
I frown up at him. “Aren’t you going to work?”
“No.” He leans down to kiss the top of my head. “I need time with you tonight. Just you and me, baby. I have plans for you. So go do what I say.”
I blink up at him. He’s more intense than usual tonight. He’s still kind and gentle, but his voice leaves no room for argument, and there’s an edge in his eyes I haven’t seen before.
It’s both unsettling and intriguing.
“Okay.”
Before I turn away, I step closer and hug him around the middle, my cheek pressed to his chest. His arms fold around me and tighten, holding me close, and he takes a moment to rock me back and forth.
“Breathe, baby.”
I smile and take a deep breath, inhaling his spicy scent and soaking in his warm embrace.
“I didn’t know how badly I needed this,” I murmur against him.
“A hug?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
His arms tighten even more, and he buries his lips in my hair. “You’re so fucking amazing, Eloise.”
I glance up at him and smile at the affection glowing in his blue eyes.
“I think you’re amazing. Okay, I’m hitting the shower.”
“Good. Take your time. There’s no rush.”
My legs are weary from all of the working out with Mateo as I climb the stairs. A hot shower sounds like heaven right now.
And when I get to our bathroom, my heart stutters. He bought me my favorite shower steamers that smell like lilac. I have no idea if he went out to find them on his own or if he sent someone for them, but either way, it makes my heart thud a little harder in my chest.
I’ve fallen in love with this man so quickly. And when he does things like this, how can I resist him?
The inside of my left bicep is sore from where he injected the tracking device earlier today. There’s a little bruise the size of my fingerprint, but when I rub over it, I can’t even feel it there.
I asked him why he put mine in my arm and his in his neck, and he told me it would hurt worse in the neck, and he refused to let me feel more pain than necessary.
I take my time, washing my body and letting the hot water beat down on muscles that I haven’t felt in a long time, if ever, that are whimpering for mercy.
I wash my hair and shave all of the things.
When I’m finished, I slather lotion all over my body, brush out my hair, and then dry it most of the way before twisting it up into a tight bun on the top of my head.
After pulling on a pair of sleep shorts and a loose tank, I pad downstairs and find my man in the kitchen, warming soup in a pot on the stove.
There are two grilled cheese sandwiches on plates, ready to go.
“I had no idea you were so handy in the kitchen.”
He turns and grins at me, and then his eyes take a slow stroll down my body, from the bun on my head to the tips of my toes and back up again.
“I have a few talents you don’t know about,” he says. “The soup is ready. Have a seat, firefly.”
“I can help—”
“Sit.”
Again, his tone is hard. Commanding.
Dominant.
Sexy.
I cross to a stool at the island and have a seat. Rome ladles up some soup in a bowl and passes it to me along with one of the sandwiches.
I’ve just taken a bite, watching as Rome dishes up for himself, when he turns to stand opposite me and casually asks, “Do you have a safe word?”