Chapter 13 Dillan
DILLAN
She isn’t fragile like a delicate flower waiting to be trampled in a field.
She’s fragile like a bomb, ready to explode and destroy everyone in her path.
—Dillan’s description of her heroine in A Crown of Stars and Ruin
It took me a year to write A Crown of Stars and Ruin. Two months to work on edits. Six months to convince myself it was good enough to send to an editor. And another three months to decide whether to independently publish the book or try to get traditionally published.
Ultimately, I chose the indie route because I thought I could keep it to myself more easily if I were my own publisher.
Pretty sure I was right. But as I get another seven-figure offer for the rights to book one and the following two books in the trilogy that haven’t been written or published yet, I wonder if I’m in over my head.
Book Two is taking longer than I expected.
My editor is hounding me for chapters every day.
Stressful doesn’t cover it.
I hate this.
People don’t even know I’m Theia DeLaurentiis, and I still get stressed out seeing her name—essentially my name—on social media.
And it’s everywhere. I had no idea this book would take on such a big, exciting life of its own.
People love Cassia, and who knew Radix would be so loved or that Draven would be so hated?
Poor, misunderstood Draven. They’ll love him eventually.
At least if I do my job right, they will.
I glance through the floor-to-ceiling windows in Rome’s office and burrow further into the soft blue blanket wrapped around me as my fingers fly across the keyboard.
“You can’t do this, Radix. You can’t leave me. Don’t leave me,” I scream, my voice hoarse as my words are ripped raw from my throat while I cling to his hand, refusing to let the gods take him. “You’re mine. They can’t have you.”
“I was wondering where you were.” Rome walks into his office, and I snap my MacBook closed.
I know he knows the truth, but writing in front of him still feels .
. . wrong. I’ve spent over two years protecting this secret.
He was the first person to figure it out, and he immediately weaponized it against me.
I refuse to give him any more ammunition.
“Sorry.” I blow out the candle on the small table and grab my notebook and pen. “I should have asked before I used your office. I just needed a little privacy. Your house is so open. It doesn’t offer much.”
His blue eyes glance past me to the snowy creek in the distance. “You can use my office, Dillan. You should be comfortable while you’re here.”
“How am I supposed to be comfortable when you forced me here?” I blow out a breath with a slight shake of my head.
A faint headache is already forming behind my eyes.
“Don’t answer that. Forget I asked. My parents want us to come for dinner this weekend.
It wasn’t really phrased like an invitation as much as an order. ”
“Seriously?” The nerve on this man.
“You blackmailed me into lying about a relationship, and you’re surprised when my parents want to have us over to grill us?” I snap back. “Lilah said she and Killian would come too as a bit of a buffer.”
“Does your sister—”
“No. She doesn’t know the truth. Although I don’t understand why we have to lie to our friends and family if it’s the press you’re worried about.
” I hold my ground, clasping my pink MacBook tightly in my hands.
“Are you ever going to tell me why I’m here?
What made you need this? Or how come I’m the only answer?
” Living with this giant dick might not have been as bad as I expected, but I’ll never admit that to him.
He’s more thoughtful than I assumed he’d be.
But it’s barely been ten days, so there’s plenty of time for his true colors to show.
His cocky mask wavers for a split second, and the same man I’ve watched fake it for years looks back at me. And damn this man for calling out to a piece of my soul that feels its kindred spirit. “You wouldn’t believe me if I did tell you.”
“Try me.” I level him with a raw honesty I wouldn’t typically bother to give light around him. “I might surprise you.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he grumbles, and he turns for the kitchen. “You hungry?”
I shrug but stuff my things into my bag and follow behind, letting the smell of garlic and onion guide me. “It smells delicious.”
“Thanks. Sit and I’ll make you a plate. We might as well talk this shit out before we do dinner with your parents.”
“Well, that sounds ominous . . .” I hang my bag from the back of the wooden chair and grab two bottles of vitamin water from the fridge before I see a bowl of salad wrapped in plastic on the top shelf. “Do you want me to grab this too?”
“Might as well.”
This is as close to civil as we’ve been with each other in two years, and it makes my skin itch. I’m not someone who’s good at keeping grudges. Anger takes energy, and I’d rather spend mine on other things. But this man hurt me in a way I’ve never allowed myself to be broken before or since.
One night, one morning, and one phone call was all it took.
I haven’t forgotten that, and I’m not sure I ever will.
He walks over a few minutes later with two plates of grilled chicken and quinoa rice, placing one in front of me before taking a seat across the table.
“Thank you,” I murmur. “Now start talking.”
Rome takes his sweet time slicing his chicken and dressing the salad before he finally opens his normally big mouth.
“I’ve been waiting a decade for the fight.
The one that makes my career. The one that gets me a belt.
Legitimacy. The one that shuts all the fuckers down.
I’ve finally been given that opportunity, and someone is trying to fuck with it. ”
“Explain.” I keep my answer short because I don’t want to feel anything for this man, and the frustration in his tone is already slithering under my skin, tempting me to feel something I’m not willing to feel.
“There was a big push by the league about a year ago for fighters to clean up their images. Some stuff went down that I had no part of, but it affected me and every fighter that fights professionally. At the time, my image wasn’t the worst. But it wasn’t the best either.
It took me a long time to be taken seriously, and Liv pointed out that if I didn’t clean my shit up, I never would be. So I did what I always do.”
“And what’s that?” I hold my fork in my hand but don’t touch my food as my stomach sours. “What do you always do?”
“I dealt with it and moved the fuck on. No one has heard a fucking peep from me for months.” He leans back in his chair and stares at me.
“Until Liv walked into Hudson’s office last week, three fucking days after I was offered a title fight, and told me rumblings of a potential sex tape are circulating. It hasn’t been released yet.”
My heart sinks.
I have no idea why. I have no doubt Rome’s been with women since our night together. But I’ve tried not to think about that. At least not until now, when I’m living with him, sharing his stupidly big bed, and apparently helping him avoid the consequences of a sex tape.
“So what? You were stupid enough to make a sex tape, and now someone wants to blackmail you with it?” I drop my fork and push my plate away. “How does that make you feel, psycho?”
“Like you’re just like everyone else who believed the lie without an ounce of proof provided, princess.”
Shit.
He’s right.
I did.
“It’s not real. And if it is, it’s not me in it,” he growls, and goosebumps break out over my skin.
I drag my teeth over my lip, hating that I want to believe him. “Why should I believe you? And how do you know it is or isn’t real if you haven’t seen it?”
“No one has seen it, but there’s a screenshot, and it’s time-stamped. It’s not me. It can’t be because I wasn’t with anyone back then. But like you just proved, no one is going to believe that without an alibi. That’s where you come in.”
“Right,” I say slowly, things beginning to click into place. “Because I was with you that night, and if they try to say the time stamp was off, they’re doing to need to believe I was with you every night.”
“Because we’re disgustingly in love, princess.” The deep tenor of his voice changes, thickens, as it wraps around me, and I wonder if we would have been here for real if things had been different.
I push my chair back and stand.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to think,” I admit.
I feel his eyes on me as I walk away and up the stairs, but he doesn’t say anything else until I come back down with my sneakers on and a wool hat in my hands. “What are you up to, Dillan?”
“I run when I think.” I pop one earbud in. “I’ll be back in a few miles.”
He’s up and out of his chair, grabbing my other hand before I can get the second earbud in. “There are no streetlights or sidewalks in this neighborhood, and it’s snowed on and off for days, Dillan. Just use the damn treadmill in the basement.”
Stepping back, I tug my hand away and pop the earbud in. “No.”
My phone connects, and the first staccato lines of Paris Palmona’s “LABOUR” are sung in my ears, firing me up. Reminding me I’m stronger than I think I am.
I walk out of the house and stretch my arms and legs, paying special attention to my shins that love to tighten up in the cold weather.
When I was young, social media was cruel, and my family has always been a target.
Even if I wasn’t chubby back then, standing next to my sister, I looked it.
Running became my saving grace. My sanity.
How I worked it all out and quieted the noise.
It also helped me feel better about my body, and there haven’t been many things I can say have helped with that.
Three miles go by in the blink of an eye.
My muscles warm as my legs pound the street beneath my feet.
Every step taking me farther from Rome and my warring emotions.
I hate that I believe him, but I do believe him.
That’s not him on the sex tape. At least not willingly, it isn’t.
If someone did something without his knowledge is another question to discuss.
But either way, the thing is time-stamped, and he says he wasn’t with anyone that night.
And I believe him.
Which ironically means my job is to help protect the devil I know.
The same as Cassia and Radix.
I guess if I can put my heroine through it and have her come out stronger afterward, I can do the same. The only difference is I will never fall in love with Rome Beneventi. I might be a hopeless romantic, but I’m not a masochist.
Thankfully, Rome is nowhere to be found when I get back to the house and make my way upstairs to shower.
He gives me the space I need, shockingly, and I take my time washing and drying my hair before I sneak back out in my pajamas and stop dead in my tracks because this man is so unnervingly annoying.
He’s lying on top of the blankets, tonight’s pajama pants are black and gray plaid. His chest is bare, and my book is in his hands. And when he sees me walk into the room, he gives me his full attention and smiles. Damn that smile. I can feel it like a caress over my skin.
“You came back?” Hope and arrogance melt together in his voice. It shouldn’t sound good, but it does.
So I do the only mature thing I can do, which is ignore him as I walk around the bed and yank two pillows out from behind him for our pillow wall. “I didn’t have much choice. You’re blackmailing me. If I want to keep my secret, I have to help you keep yours.”
“I don’t have a secret, Dillan. I didn’t do it.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.
The secret is us. Our fake relationship.
I’ll keep up my end of the bargain. But only until your fight is over.
Then I’m gone, and you’re going to take the blame.
And you’re never going to threaten to out me again or I will learn exactly how chemical castration works, Rome.
I swear to God. I’m an author. I’m great at creativity.
” I climb onto the bed and shove my legs under the blankets.
“That’s the first time you admitted it.” He closes the book and places it on his nightstand, then turns my way. “Why are you hiding it, Dillan? The book is great. Even if you’re making your dudes way deeper than guys really are.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” I groan and attempt to ignore him as I plug my phone into the charger and grab my Kindle. I’m not reading my own book. Fuck that. I’ve got a great shifter romance queued up and waiting for me.
“Yeah,” he sighs and turns away, clearly angry. “I wouldn’t understand. Dumb fucking fighters don’t get it.”
“I never said you were dumb, just emotionally stunted.” I regret the words the minute they’re out of my mouth, but I’ve been clinging to anger for so damn long, a single conversation isn’t going to get me to let go. “I’ll do what I have to do, Rome. So just tell me what I have to do.”
“Go on a date with me tomorrow night. Somewhere popular. Somewhere we can be photographed.” Every line of his face is pulled as tight as his voice.
“Fine,” I agree. “Tomorrow night.”
“Fine.”
Badass Book Club
Jamie
Okay seriously, you all said this wasn’t porn, but this shit is better than porn.
Lilah
OMG. Have you ever wondered why you’re still single?
Jamie
Nope. Not once.
Ryker
You got to chapter ten.
Jamie
I got to chapter ten.
Lucky
Don’t tell me. I haven’t gotten through nine yet.
Ryker
Why the hell not?
Lucky
Some of us have an actual woman we can play with instead of just reading about it.
Lilah
Play with?
Lexie
He’s trying not to say I spent last night sitting on his face after I took the book out of his hands.
Jamie
Fuck, Lex. Don’t put that thought in my head.
Kaleigh
Well damn, Lexie. You go, girl. Good for you.
Lexie
What can I say? I read chapter ten and liked it.
Ryker
Shit. I’ve got a new respect for chapter ten.
Lexie
As you should.