Chapter 11 Dillan
DILLAN
I mean, you could walk a mile in my shoes, but seriously, it would be boring.
If you’re looking for excitement, try spending sixty seconds in my head and tell me that doesn’t freak you right-the-fuck-out. Go ahead. I’ll wait.
—Dillan’s Secret Thoughts
Rome knocks on my car door, startling me, and I close out of my text thread with Lilah and lower the window.
“Sorry, am I not moving quickly enough for you? I’ll try to do better.
” No sooner do the words leave my lips than I gasp, sarcasm hanging heavy between us as I cover my mouth. “Oh no. Will you out me for that too?”
“Dillan,” he growls.
“Devil,” I growl back.
“I wanted to see if you had anything I could carry in for you?”
“Don’t bother trying to be nice now, Beneventi.” I close the window and shove my door open, smacking his legs and garnering a satisfying groan. “You showed your true colors already.”
Judging by the way he’s bent over, I may have nailed his balls too.
Pity.
Ignoring the teeny sliver of guilt that tickles somewhere deep in my subconscious, I walk around him, careful not to slide on ice, and grab my giant suitcase from the trunk. His house isn’t what I expected. Although I’m not sure what I was expecting. Either way, this isn’t it.
I would have thought Rome was a penthouse kind of guy, not a legit log cabin on the back end of Cherry Creek. It’s beautiful in an about to get murdered by some crazy person wearing someone else’s skin and running around with a chainsaw kind of way.
Sometimes I worry about myself and my overactive imagination.
Today would be one of those days.
Rome catches up to me before I get to the front door and takes the suitcase from me. Well, he tries to, but I refuse to let go. “Don’t go getting all chivalrous on me now.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess.” He tugs hard, and I’m forced to let go and watch as Rome opens the large glass door and steps aside to let me walk in first. “Now move your ass before it starts raining again.”
There’s the asshole I know and loathe. With a heaving, frustrated sigh, I walk ahead of him and stop once I’m inside.
Okay, really didn’t expect this. It’s beautiful.
The entire cabin is made of gleaming wooden logs, with high ceilings and wall-to-wall windows that overlook the backyard and creek beyond.
Completely open concept and from what I can see, the primary bedroom is lofted above the living space.
I turn slowly, taking in the kitchen, dining area, massive fireplace that anchors the living room, and what I’m assuming is a bathroom and .
. . I spin on Rome as he sets my suitcase at the foot of the stairs leading to the bedroom. The only one I see.
My teeth grind so hard, I think I may have just chipped a molar. “How. Many. Bedrooms. Do. You. Have. Psycho?”
“You know you busted my balls once for my love of nicknames, Ryan. But you seem to have a few of them for me.” His smile is infuriating, and I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted to claw anyone’s eyes out before this very moment.
“Rome . . . I swear to God, I’m hanging on by a fucking thread right now.
And if I lose my shit, you lose your alibi.
And don’t think I haven’t realized you’re using me to cover for something.
Something you will tell me about if you want to make this shit work.
Now, where is your other bedroom?” I’m not sure I’ve meant words more than I mean these.
He shoves his hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants, and my eyes follow the lines over his thick thighs down to his bare feet, and I hate that I know what those damn thighs look like thrusting inside me.
I hate it almost as much as I hate the sparkle hiding in the depths of those midnight blue eyes that are so dark, they’re bordering on black when he catches me looking.
The fucker shrugs. “Just one bedroom, princess.”
“No. No way.” I walk down the hall and open the door to a bathroom and then another to a laundry room, and a third to an office.
Surprisingly, everything in his home is very minimal.
I wouldn’t have expected that from Rome.
His office has a desk, a desk chair, and a comfy-looking chair and ottoman in the corner of the room.
The family room has a small leather couch and a leather recliner, both facing a big flat-screen TV.
I spot one more door, only this one opens to dark stairs, with the switch on the wall that doesn’t turn on any light. “What’s down here?”
“My gym.” He picks my suitcase up and lifts a foot onto the bottom step leading to the loft. “One bed. One bedroom.”
“Then you better get really comfortable on the couch, asshole.”
Rome looks over my shoulder at the couch and laughs. “I’m six five, Ryan. I’m not sleeping on the damn couch.”
I fight the urge to scream but only because I think that might give him some sick satisfaction.
If this is a test of wills, I will not let him win.
Instead, I follow him up the open stairs to the loft and stop, my eyes widening.
It’s spectacular. The cabin is an A-frame that overlooks the creek, with a balcony offering what has to be the prettiest view in Kroydon Hills. “Wow.”
The word is whispered, but Rome hears it and smiles. “It’s the whole reason I bought this place.”
“I guess I can see why,” I murmur. “But it still needs another bedroom.”
“I’ll get right on that, sweetheart.”
“Don’t,” I snap. “Don’t call me that.”
“What—”
I put my hand up. “No. My dad calls my mom that. You will not call me that. Seriously, Rome, I don’t know how we’re pulling this off, but thanks to Asher, my entire family already knows and believes it.
And if we fuck this up now, I’ll never hear the end of it.
It will be one more thing they think I flitted through.
” I open the door to the balcony and step outside.
“It’s bad enough that when this little agreement runs its course, they’re already going to be ready to tell me I jumped in too quickly, didn’t think it through, and jumped out like I always do. ”
“I’ll take the heat for the breakup.” He sighs. I’m too busy watching the way the ice hits the creek to see the action, but I hear it and him as he walks out behind me. “Everyone will believe I fucked it up. That doesn’t have to be on you.”
I keep myself under the covered area of the porch, careful not to get wet and more careful not to make eye contact with the devil right now.
I don’t want to soften. Don’t want to feel .
. . anything for him, least of all understanding.
Not when he’s blackmailing me into this shitstorm. “How are we going to do this then?”
“Carefully and publicly. We need to be seen together. We need buy-in. People need to believe us. We need to date, Dillan.”
I throw my hands up in frustration as I spin on him, slipping, just like I tried not to do.
Damn it. Rome’s big hands immediately wrap around me, holding me still and safe against him, and it’s like a hit of the sandalwood scent goes right to my veins.
I lift my chin and look up and up and freaking up at his tall frame, leaving me feeling delicate and fragile in his arms, and goddammit, that pisses me off.
“I need rules, Rome. Expectations. Like dates are fine, but no social media. If people see us, fine. But I will not be posting about anything. That’s a hard no.”
“I don’t even run my own social media accounts. I’m not even sure what I have, so no, you don’t need to post on social media,” he assures me, like that helps. It doesn’t.
“I need . . .” My voice cracks, and I try to hide the nerves as they claw at every inch of my psyche. “I need you to tell me why I’m doing this. And before you say it, I know why I’m doing it, so you don’t out me. What I don’t know is why you need me to do this. So how about you fill me in?”
He drops his hands and takes a step back. “The why doesn’t matter. What matters is that everyone believes us.”
“And what exactly are we saying when we lie to our family and friends?” I push him because every single time I think about lying to the people I care about, I want to break out in hives. I’m half surprised I haven’t already. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“I don’t know, Dillan. You’re the storyteller. Tell me a story.” He takes a step closer and slides his hand down to my hip. “But could you please do it inside, where I’m not freezing my balls off and a little concerned your clumsy ass will slip on the ice and fall off the balcony?”
“Nice to know you don’t want me to die,” I grumble as I move around him and back inside, where I’m once again confronted with what has to be a California king-sized bed. It’s massive really, but it’s still only one bed.
“What’s the matter, Ryan? You worried you can’t trust yourself to sleep in the same bed as me?” His grin is smug and sexy, and I hate it.
“Yup.” I smile back. “I don’t trust that I won’t stab you in your sleep. But a girl can dream.” I tip my suitcase over on its side, unzip it, and drop to my knees. I know I packed my toiletry bag in here somewhere.
“You look pretty on your knees, princess.”
“Enjoy it now, psycho. It’s the only time you’re going to see me like this.
You had your chance.” Shit. I didn’t mean to let that slip out.
Luckily, I find my shampoo and conditioner right under my toiletry bag and pajamas and push past Rome for the en suite bathroom.
Unluckily, the door I open is the walk-in closet, not the bathroom, and when I turn around, the big dumbass is smiling and pointing to the door next to the one I chose.
“I did make some space in the closet for your stuff.”
“I won’t be here that long,” I grumble, slamming the bathroom door and looking at myself in the mirror, hating the reflection I see staring back at me.
“Two months, Dillan,” Rome announces loudly from the other side of the door, and the headache that’s been forming since he walked into my shop this morning hits with a fucking vengeance.
I’m not sure how much time passes before I walk back into the bedroom, praying the asshole would be downstairs, but apparently, it’s not enough because the devil disguised as the hottest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on is sitting on the massive bed.
The beautiful blue duvet is rumpled by his crossed ankles, and he’s lost the sweats and is lying there in tight black boxer briefs, his quad muscles brilliantly on display along with every inch of his bare chest. Every inked muscle . . . Oh. Fuck. No.
“I swear to God, Rome, if you do not put clothes on, I’ll out myself just to avoid all this. I’m not sleeping next to you naked.” And why the hell does that thought leave my heart racing?
“I get hot, and it wouldn’t be the first time.” Oh, this son of a bitch.
I walk over to the glass doors and throw them open, then spin around like a wild woman.
“There. It’ll cool down. Now put on clothes.
” I grab his sweats off the floor and throw them at his face and lift my head to the ceiling, praying for strength.
Not sure if it’s to survive this or to kill him, but either way, I need to be stronger than I am.
“You’re really going to make me sleep in that bed . . . With you?”
“It’s a big bed.” He shrugs on his sweats and his tee, but it doesn’t help.
Nothing is going to help.
I look around, not sure what I’m looking for until I decide pillows are going to have to do.
I steal two of the three Rome was sitting against, then add two of the three on what I’m assuming is my side of the bed.
These will have to do. And like a tweenage girl at sleep-away camp, I stack them in a line down the center of the bed.
“This is the line of demarcation. Do not, under any circumstances, cross this line, or I swear I will gut you like a pig.”
“You ever gutted a pig, Ryan? There’s a lot of blood. Gets pretty messy.” His lips tip up on one side, and for an overly long second, I wonder if he’s gutted a pig. What the fuck? It doesn’t matter. None of this matters, and I leave him alone in his room. “Where are you going?”
“To get water. Is that allowed? Or wait . . . Am I on lockdown too? Not only am I being blackmailed, but maybe you want to add what—being held captive to your list of blue-collar crimes.”
“Dillan . . .” His voice softens as he follows me down the stairs, but it’s too damn late.
“I take medication, Rome. I need a goddamn glass of water, and I need you not to speak for the rest of the night. I need space and time to process. I haven’t exactly had much of that today.
So just stop speaking.” I look up at him, and the tiniest bit of the fire dims because I recognize the look in his eyes.
It’s a look that mirrors one I know well.
And for that reason alone, I lower my shields the tiniest bit. “Please?”
“Space,” he echoes back before walking ahead of me into the kitchen. He grabs a glass from the cabinet and fills it with water. “Make a list of anything you need, and I’ll make sure you have it. It’s just two months, Dillan.”
I think this might be his way of waving a white flag, hoping for a truce, but it’s too little, too late.
“Two months,” I whisper as I take the glass of water. “I’ve faked worse for longer.”
Badass Book Club
Ryker
Has anyone gotten to chapter ten yet?
Lexie
Dude, Rome and Dillan come out of the closet with their own enemies-to-lovers romance, and you’re talking about chapter ten?
Ryker
I can’t be the only person who figured they’d been going at it for months, right?
Rome
Watch it, cousin.
Jamie
I kinda figured it’d been going on for a year or so.
Killian
Not gonna lie, I’m not surprised.
Kaleigh
Shocked the shit out of me.
Lucky
Same, K.
Lilah
Not me.
Dillan
That’s enough. Yes, we’re together. No, we didn’t tell you. We wanted to let Lucky and Lexie figure their stuff out without the added pressure of his brother dating her cousin.
Kaleigh
Like I said, incestuous little bunch.
Ryker
Read chapter ten. It’s kinda hot.
Jamie
How about you read it to me.
Ryker
Dumbass.
Kaleigh
I would so be down for that.
Ryker
Jamie being a dumbass?
Lexie
No, you fool. A hot boy reading a hot book to a pretty girl.
Ryker
You think I’m hot, Lex?
Lucky
You think he’s hot, wife?
Lexie
He looks like you, hubby. Of course he’s hot.
Ryker
I’m older. Lucky looks like me.
Lucky
Yeah well, I got the girl, so fuck off.
Lilah
I think you just managed to ruin chapter ten for me.
Ryker
Sorry.