Chapter 20 Rome
ROME
Wake up.
—Text from Olivia to Rome
Dillan’s beautiful body is above me in my bed, the warm sun bathing her in a gorgeous golden glow. Her thighs straddle my face. Soft moans fill the air, and her sweet cunt fills my mouth—
Something pokes my chest.
Something not Dillan.
Dillan disappears, replaced by whatever-the-hell just shoved my shoulder, more forcefully this time. What the fuck?
“Wake up,” a voice snaps.
One that’s not Dillan’s.
You’ve gotta be kidding . . . I roll away, not ready to wake up yet.
I only let myself sleep in on Sundays. Every other day, I’m up and running at the asscrack of dawn, but Sundays are fucking sacred.
I sleep. I move slow. I let my body rest. And when I crack my eyes open to find the room still dark—no golden glow, no Dillan sitting on my face—and my cousin standing next to my bed, sacred goes to hell.
I’ve got a bad feeling my whole day is about to go down in flames with it.
“Why are you in my bedroom?” I groan and drag my hand across the cool sheets where Dillan should be sleeping but isn’t.
The better question is why isn’t Dillan in my bedroom?
The blanket pools around my waist as I sit up, and Olivia looks away. “Tell me you’re not naked under there.”
“Tell me why you have a key to my house,” I growl and push up to my feet, showing her the gray sweats I slept in.
Her eyes dart quickly to mine, relaxing when she finds me clothed. “I have my ways. Now make me a cup of coffee.”
“Seriously?” I drag my hand through my hair and shake my head, trying to clear the sleep. “You came to my house, and now I’m supposed to make you coffee?”
“Not really,” she grins, and no lie, it’s a little evil. “I stopped by Sweet Temptations and brought coffee and sticky buns with me. I just wanted to see if you’d do it if I asked.”
“First, you didn’t ask, you ordered.” I cross the room and slide a sweatshirt over my head. “And second, I’m in training. I can’t have sticky buns, you brat.”
“I know.” She shrugs, and her evil mastermind smile grows like the bad guy from a cartoon. “More for me.” She looks around the room, a new interest obviously piqued. “Where’s your girlfriend?”
“She has a name,” I grumble as I walk by her and down the steps, wondering the same thing.
“I know her name. My brother is married to her sister, remember?” Funny how easy it is to forget that. She follows behind me, the click-clack of her shoes announcing every step on the hardwood floors.
“Isn’t it too early for heels, Olivia? Pretty sure you should be in sneakers or slides before what—” I look at the clock. Seriously? “Eight a.m.”
“Never too early for heels, little cousin.”
“You’re like a foot smaller than me,” I grumble, unsure why I even bother fighting.
“Thirteen inches to be exact.” She smiles and looks around.
“Don’t change the subject. Why isn’t Dillan here?
You two looked awfully cozy when you snuck out of the ball last night.
” She moves in front of me and grabs a pink paper coffee cup from Ma’s bakery and hands it to me. “It’s black, like your soul.”
“It’s too early for this, Liv. Why are you here?” I ask as I take the hot cup from her hands. Maybe caffeine will make the day better.
I wanted to wake up to Dillan.
I want to talk.
I want—
“You guys looked great together last night. The press ate it up. Lots of chatter.”
“Okay . . .” I answer as an unfamiliar ache hits me square in the chest.
You blackmailed me.
She didn’t even want to be there last night, and I forced her into it.
Because I’m an asshole.
“Liv.” My tone is her last warning.
“Fine. I was trying to do the whole shit-sandwich thing. You know, give you the good, then the bad, and finish up with the good. But I’m not really good at that. Sit down.” She points at the kitchen table, but I don’t move.
“Spit it out.”
“Fucking fighters,” Olivia bitches as she pulls a tablet from an oversized Goyard purse. Her fingers fly across the screen before she holds it out for me. “The tape’s been leaked.”
“Of course it has,” I fucking bite out through gritted teeth because this is not what I need right now.
Not when I’m weeks from what should be the biggest fight of my life.
Only problem with that is it no longer feels like the biggest fight.
Pretty sure that title goes to what’s happening with Dillan.
That sinks in as I look at the grainy video playing on the screen in my hands.
I study it. Study what I can see, which isn’t a whole hell of a lot.
The same time stamp from the original still sits in the corner of the frame. The bedroom looks like any other room at any other hotel. Nothing gives away where, just when. The woman’s face is hidden by the guy’s body. A body that has my tattoos but doesn’t. I don’t recognize either of them. “Liv—”
She snaps the blood-red case of the tablet closed and snatches it from my hands. “I know. And I’m working on it, but for now, the damage is done. Now we need to work on controlling the narrative.”
“What fucking narrative? That’s. Not. Me.”
“Good. Remember this feeling. Because this is what we need, Rome. If you’re going to survive this—”
“Survive it?” Dillan squeaks from the front door I hadn’t realized she’d opened. A baby-blue wool hat covering her beautiful hair, and my white Crucible hoodie covering her body. Her cheeks are pink from the cold and nearly match her sneakers. “Survive what?”
She closes the door behind her, keeping her eyes locked on Liv, and thankfully not noticing the way I clench my fists as I try to keep my shit locked down.
Because right now, I’m about ready to snap.
Not at her. Not even at Liv. Just snap. This isn’t me, and whoever is trying to fuck me over by saying it is wants something. But what?
They didn’t ask for money, so what are they getting out of this?
When Liv doesn’t answer, Dillan moves next to me and tilts her head up, close enough to touch but not touching. “Rome . . .”
“The sex tape was leaked,” I admit, so fucking sorry.
“Oh.” Her hand brushes mine, and I lace my fingers with hers, taking what little she’s willing to give. “Okay. Well, what’s the plan? What do we have to do?”
“Today—nothing. I don’t want the two of you to change a thing.
Now you let me do what I do, and you trust that I’m the fucking best. Right now, I don’t even want you to make a statement.
That’s beneath you. This isn’t you, and I will blast that everywhere.
We’re going to come out hitting hard. They can’t prove anything yet. ”
“They can’t prove anything at all, Liv. How many times do I have to say it’s not me?” I say, so fucking cold, she should be frozen in place.
“Good. I’m going to set up a press conference for you.
Just keep your mouth shut until I need you to open it.
Got it?” She tosses the device back in her bag and picks it up, along with the black coat folded over the back of the chair.
“You’re going to come out of this smelling as clean as a fucking rose, Rome. Just trust me.”
She eyes the sticky buns in the box for a moment. “You’re in training, so I guess you don’t need these. Unless you want them, Dillan?”
Dillan shakes her head.
“Right. Okay. Well, time to get to work.” She grabs the box, presses a kiss to my cheek, and is gone without another word.
Dillan drops my hand before the door clicks shut behind Olivia and storms into the kitchen, doing a complete one-eighty.
“You okay?” I ask, annoyed when she looks up at me as she opens a bottle of water. “What? Are you pissed?”
“Maybe,” she snaps back, and yeah, whiplash doesn’t cover it.
“What the hell do you have to be pissed about? Do you have to call your mom and tell her to not look at social media? Oh yeah, and not to turn on Sports Center where they’re about to dissect what everyone is going to think is me having sex?
” I finally snap, rage fueling me. “What the actual fuck . . .” I’m so over this shit.
“You knew this was coming, Dillan. This was the whole reason—”
“Oh, I know what our fake relationship was for, Rome. Trust me. And yeah, I knew this was coming. I just could have used it not happening today.”
“Sorry to inconvenience you, princess.” My teeth grind as I look at her.
“You know what?” Dillan gets right in my face, balancing on the balls of her feet and poking my damn chest. “You try waking up to a million notifications flooding your phone because last night you went to a ball with your boyfriend.” She uses air quotes around the word, and fuck if that doesn’t piss me off more.
“And now . . .” Another poke to the chest. “Now everyone feels like I’m fair game.
Like it’s their right to discuss whether I’m pretty enough to be your girlfriend.
Most of them decided I’m not. Some said I’m too thin, but most of them said my ass was too big and my boobs were too small.
” She drops back down to her heels. “Oh, and my favorite was the assholes who think I’m too short.
Like I can control that? Seriously. I wore five-inch heels last night.
What more do they want from me? Do you have any idea how bad my feet hurt after that? ”
As if realizing she’s finally yelling—not whispering, actually fucking yelling—she snaps her mouth closed and presses her fingers to her lips as she gathers her composure, and I watch as that damn masks slips back into place.
“This is why I don’t have social media, Rome.
This is why I stopped working for Lilah. This.”
“This is why you hide,” I say out loud before thinking it through.
Shit.
She turns back to me with wild eyes.
Not the right thing to say.
“I’m not hiding.” Dillan’s words are even and measured. Almost practiced.
And they make me laugh because I’m pretty damn sure she believes them. “Yeah, you are. You’re hiding who you are from everyone. Your family. Your friends. Your readers. You, Dillan Ryan, are hiding.”