Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“So, here was this guy who’d spilled a cocktail on me and was clumsily trying to dab the vodka off my chest with a bar napkin .
. . and I thought”—Emilia paused for dramatic flair—“do I break his arm or just throw a drink in his face? When suddenly, from out of nowhere, this assassin appears behind me on the patio. The guy thought he was a ninja, I swear. Had two swords and some insane mask.” She flicked a dismissive hand in the air.
“I swear some of these men were born to be stunt doubles in movies instead.”
Rory smiled, the scene Emilia had just painted vividly unfolding in her mind as they all sat on the massive terrace.
Two glass doors led out to the terrace from each side of the sprawling space, and there were still plenty of empty seats at the long, rectangular table, even with the eight of them outside.
Potted Cypress trees lined the walls of the home.
She’d been at Emilia’s place for less than an hour, but she already knew they’d been right to seek out Emilia’s help. Besides, she was a total badass, too.
“So, Clumsy Guy drops the napkin and transitions into what I can only define as beast mode. He shifts me away from the guy and shields me like I was some damsel in distress.” Emilia chuckled and refilled her glass with wine as if the idea she needed saving was preposterous.
“You were Clumsy Guy?” Finn asked Roman, laughter bubbling in his tone.
Based on what Rory now knew about Roman, clumsy was far from an accurate descriptor of the man. Quiet, intense, intelligent, and strongly protective? Yes. Clumsy? Not so much.
Rory sipped her wine and side-eyed Harper off to her left, whose gaze was set on Roman and Emilia across from them. Rory couldn’t help but wonder if Harper was trying to figure out if Roman had a history with Emilia beyond friendship.
“I quickly learned Roman was no klutz. He took down that assassin with his bare hands. He grabbed a knife from the bar and stabbed him in the eye. I stood by silently impressed, waiting to see if he’d need my help while all the wedding guests screamed and ran in horror,” Emilia went on.
Chris stroked his beard, his focus mostly set on Roman, probably wondering whether Emilia was mistaking Roman for someone else.
“Then five more guys dropped down from ropes like we were in a bad action film, and I had to step in.” Emilia took a casual sip of red wine, then stood to reveal a jagged scar on her side. “This beauty is from a corkscrew one of the guys managed to jab me with that night.”
“She’s being humble. She took that stabbing for me. Saved my life. I had my back turned fighting someone else, and she blocked his path with her body.” Roman finally broke his silence and joined in on Emilia’s story.
Emilia glimpsed Roman as she sat back down, and Rory stared at her in astonishment.
“It was a night I’ll never forget. I mean, I’m sure I could’ve handled the six guys, but all except one of my guards were on a smoke break outside the building—the timing had to have been planned by the assailants—and it was nice to have Roman help out. ”
“Wow.” Rory took a conservative sip of her wine, not wanting to get tipsy since more League members were en route, and especially since she’d be questioning her old friend, a friend who set her up from the sounds of it.
Chris rested his hand on Rory’s thigh, and thoughts of where that hand had been thirty minutes ago filled her mind. Spreading her folds to plunge his thick cock inside her . . .
“I must confess and plead guilty to the ‘clumsy cocktail’ routine.” Finn held his palms in the air in apology.
“I might have taught Roman that little trick to help him with the ladies since he’s a genius in just about everything except for the art of picking up women.
” Finn quickly cleared his throat like he’d said too much, especially in the presence of women.
Roman glared at Finn, then glimpsed Harper with a worried look on his face. He’d slept with Emilia, hadn’t he?
Forget ninjas, Rory was fascinated by the telenovela unfolding before her very eyes.
Emilia reached for her phone on the table. “I think we need some music.” She made a few swipes on her iPhone, and music began to drift through the air from the outdoor speakers positioned on the terrace.
Not even thirty seconds into the song, Harper pushed back from the table and stood.
“I’m gonna go grab some more wine.” She tipped her head toward the house, and Rory couldn’t help but notice Roman’s gaze fly to her.
The clench of his jaw beneath his dark shadow of a beard was obvious. Not anger, maybe pain.
“Oh, sit. I can—”
“No, really, I’m, you know, picky about red wine. Some give me a headache,” Harper rushed out, cutting Emilia off, then started for the house, not wasting any time.
Roman rose, eyes following Harper, but Rory shook her head.
“I’ll help her. I have the same headache issue,” Rory lied, thinking Roman was quite possibly the reason for Harper’s quick departure. Or maybe his past with Emilia?
Roman nodded hesitantly, then eased back into his seat.
Chris turned and captured Rory’s wrist. “You want me to come with you?”
“I won’t get lost.” She glanced around at the table of Navy SEALs looking stiff and not nearly as relaxed as Emilia. They’d also barely touched their wine, and Rory was certain Harper had taken just the one sip. The guys were in operation mode minus the fatigues and painted faces. “Don’t worry.”
Rory hurried toward the house, doing her best not to be too obvious, but she’d bonded with Harper and wanted to make sure she was okay.
Once inside, Rory spotted Harper with her palms on the marble counter in the butler’s pantry just outside the kitchen.
Harper stole a look from over her shoulder at Rory.
“You okay?”
“Of course,” Harper insisted. But her eyes were glossy, weren’t they?
No woman was ever “okay” when they were fighting back tears.
“That song,” Harper began, “just has some memories connected to it. I needed a second. I’m sorry.”
Rory didn’t recognize the song, but music had always been a powerful vehicle for calling up both painful and amazing memories for her. She understood what Harper might be experiencing. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I guess I wanted to make sure you were okay about . . . um.”
Harper swiped a fallen tear from her cheek and shook her head as though demanding herself to push away whatever had bothered her. “Emilia? No, I’m not jealous. Why would I be?”
I didn’t say that but . . . “No, of course not. You have no reason to be jealous. You’re freaking awesome. I just know it’d be awkward if I met someone that Chris might have”—she swallowed—“slept with. Like it was probably weird for him to meet Cutter.”
“Roman would never admit to having slept with her, anyway. Ask Roman to discuss thermodynamics or his disbelief in paranormal activity, and he’s your guy.
But talk about his past? His feelings?” She pursed her lips, her mouth a tight line.
“Let’s just say he doesn’t talk about himself.
Him opening up about his grandparents at that gala was an anomaly.
” She smoothed her hands over her long-sleeved black shirt she’d matched with dark skinny jeans and brown boots.
Tonight, Rory and Harper were the ones who’d accidentally dressed alike. Only Rory was in a white shirt with black boots.
“Besides, nothing is going on between Roman and me now.”
“Now?” Rory couldn’t help but pick up on that one word.
Harper released a deep breath and closed her eyes.
“Roman and I . . . it didn’t work. We tried.
” Pain slipped through her tone as she opened her eyes.
“But the team doesn’t know, and I don’t want things to be awkward, so I’ve tried really damn hard to act as normal as possible around everyone. I’d rather they not know. Okay?”
Ohh. And wow, she hadn’t seen that coming.
She’d noticed the flirting and the stolen looks between the two, so Harper and Roman were either amazing actors, or they still had intense feelings for each other.
Feelings they were unable to deny, especially if all it took was a song to trigger a reaction like that one.
“I won’t breathe a word,” she answered, a hand to her heart.
Harper nodded, forced a smile, then sidestepped her and headed back outside.
“You forgot the wine.” She turned to find Harper already gone. Rory shook off her surprise, knowing she’d need to keep Harper’s secret from Chris. It wasn’t her secret to share.
Rory had just started for the door to the terrace when she stopped at the sight of Chris inside the hall, a fist to the wall, his head bowed, and a phone to his ear.
“What is it?” she asked softly, preparing for bad news based on his body language.
“I’ll call you back when I know.” He paused for a few seconds.
“Yeah, if your connection is spotty, I’ll shoot you a text.
Okay. See you when you get here,” Chris said in a low voice, his tone gritty.
He lifted his head and slowly faced Rory.
“Jessica and everyone, well, they’re on their way here.
Carter and some of his men, too, but in another plane since we took his jet. ”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why? What’d they find out?”
Chris held a phone tight in his palm at his side as she cut the space between them down to a foot. “Carter and the guys got Santiago to tell them more. And he said there is one man who can identify The Italian. That there was only one man who was the go-between guy for Santiago and The Italian.”
“Andrew,” she murmured, already knowing that truth in her core—so deep she’d ignored it. He’d been her mentor, her teacher, her boyfriend, and now he was her enemy.
“I have to show you something. I’d rather not, but Jessica needs confirmation.” Chris’s face conveyed a mess of emotions that filled Rory with dread.