Chapter 28 Dillan
DILLAN
Why do you have such an unwavering love for your sister? they asked.
Because she didn’t try to fix me. She held my hand, wiped my tears, and reminded me who the fuck I am and where I came from, I answered.
—Dillan’s Secret Thoughts . . .
or maybe the dedication for the sequel to A Crown of Stars and Ruin.
Still deciding.
“Can you at least try to find out from Killian? Because something is definitely going on, and no one is clueing me in. Rome hasn’t even come into the room yet,” I tell my sister, my spidey senses tingling and on high alert.
Something’s up.
I know it.
I feel it in my bones.
What I don’t know is what the hell it is and why I’m being kept in the dark.
Liv’s room is two doors down from ours, and I haven’t seen Rome since he walked in there over an hour ago. When we got here, he was a completely different person than the man who’d gotten in the car with me. He’d been a little on edge before we left, but he could barely look at me when we arrived.
“I’m texting him now. Have a little faith, Dillan. It’s probably just a tactical thing. Killian is always distant before a fight,” Lilah tries to comfort me, but I’m not buying it. Distant I could handle. This feels different. “What time is the weigh-in and the press conference?”
I look at the clock flashing on the front of the TV box. “Almost two hours from now.”
“Okay, give me a few minutes to see if I can get Killian to answer me, and I’ll see what I can find out and call you back.”
“Thanks, Lilah.” I end the call and fight the urge to throw the phone across the room like a teenager having a temper tantrum.
Although that does sound strangely satisfying, I’m going to need my phone.
Screw this . . . I grab my laptop and my headphones. If Rome Beneventi doesn’t want me involved in whatever he’s up to, that’s on him.
Time to see if I can get lost in my own damn world for a while.
Great news. Anger translates really well to the page when your heroine is pissed off at the world, and I love that for me.
Both men in Cassia’s life are overbearing assholes who think they know better and want to protect her at all costs.
Sounds hot in theory, but when you’re as big a badass as she is, it’s actually pretty annoying.
My heroine can protect herself, her kingdom, and the two giant babies fighting over their places at her side.
Bad. Ass.
Maybe I wish I was a little more like her.
We’re ten minutes away from when the weigh-ins and press conference are supposed to take place, and I still haven’t heard a word from Rome. Not even where they are or where they’ll be.
It’s safe to say I’m pissed.
And worried.
And infuriatingly frustrated.
Incredible emotions to channel into a book. Not so much to feel for your boyfriend.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand, and I grab it, yanking it from the charging cord, hoping it’s my psycho telling me what the hell is going on.
It’s not.
Lilah
Weigh-ins are in a meeting space on the first floor of the hotel in ten minutes. Something is definitely going on, but Killian won’t say what. Just that you’re fine and should stay where you are. I laughed at him and said Ryan girls don’t like to be told what to do.
Dillan
What did he say?
Lilah
That he’s well aware and that’s probably why you haven’t heard from anyone.
Dillan
You realize I’m going to kill them all, including your husband, right?
Lilah
If I were there, I’d help you. Any idea what you’re going to do?
Dillan
Looks like I’m watching weigh-ins. Thanks, sissy.
I don’t bother touching up my makeup or taking the time to change.
A sense of urgency is pushing me to get down to that conference room before I miss the weigh-ins.
Even if I don’t know why, I know I need to be there.
Stepping off the elevator, I ask an assistant to point me in the direction of the right room and hear the commotion filling the space before I even move inside.
The large room is packed with reporters, fans, and staff.
I’d guess at least a hundred people fill the seats and line the walls.
Rome sits at the front of the room on a raised dais with his team surrounding him, Liv on one side and Hudson on the other. Killian and his father stand behind the three of them, each one equally intimidating in their own right, even Liv. But it’s Rome I can’t look away from.
My beautiful psycho looks lethal in a way I’m not used to.
His face is strung tight as he clenches his jaw.
He’s changed, interestingly enough, considering he hadn’t come back to the room to get clothes.
But someone must have given him a pair of fresh gray sweats and a navy-blue Crucible hoodie.
His matching blue hat sits backward on his head, and his hands are clenched in fists at his sides.
My man is pissed, and it only takes a moment for the ever-present magnetic pull between us to force his eyes to search out mine.
Oh shit.
The minute he sees me, the tick in his jaw tightens, and the anger in his eyes darkens.
But I don’t get the feeling that anger is directed at me.
Or maybe it is—what the hell do I know? Apparently nothing, and that was done purposefully.
“He looks good,” a woman next to me says as she brushes by.
A tight-blue bodycon dress is practically painted on her skin, and a pang of jealousy hits me low in my gut because those words .
. . there’s something about them. A familiarity I don’t like.
I get the impression she’s seen my psycho before.
There was an intimacy in her voice that makes me want to claw her eyes out.
Maybe I should be the fighter.
As I force myself to focus on what a horrible idea that would be, an arm slings over my shoulder, and I nearly scream before realizing it belongs to Lucky. “Jesus Christ, Beneventi,” I whisper-hiss. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry, Dillan. I saw you come in and didn’t want you back here alone.
” He raises his brow as if to say Do you blame me without uttering a single word.
When I look back up at the stage, Rome is stripping down to his compression shorts while his opponent stands across from him, waiting his turn.
Rome’s eyes continuously stray to me, stopping where his brother’s hand still lingers around my shoulder.
Only there’s no anger there. Nope. That’s definitely relief. And that relief sends a worried shiver up my spine.
“Lucky . . .” I murmur out of the corner of my mouth. “What the actual fuck is going on?”
“Noth—”
“Don’t even think about lying to me,” I cut off his blowoff, and he smirks.
What is it with these Beneventi men?
They’re all insane.
The crowd cheers as they announce Rome’s weight, and a slow, menacing smile spreads across those strong, full lips I can’t wait to have on my body after this damn fight.
Wait—I’m mad at him. No lips on my body. Not until I get an explanation.
“Spill it, Beneventi,” I snap at Lucky once Rome steps back and his opponent strips down. Someone from his camp holds up a towel, and he must strip out of his boxers too because the room erupts in hoots.
I take the distraction and spin out of Lucky’s hold, fixing my glare on him. “I swear to God, Beneventi, if someone doesn’t start giving me answers, I’m going to lose my shit soon.”
Lucky lifts his eyes to the ceiling, and his calm facade slips away, concern replacing it. “Come on, Dillan.” He presses his hand to the small of my back and guides me around the outside of the room. “Let’s go back into the staging area, and you can ask him yourself in a minute.”
But I don’t want to wait a minute. I’ve already waited hours.
“Just tell me,” I demand, well aware I’m one step away from stomping my foot like the princess Rome used to tease me about being.
If the glass slipper fits.
“Not my story to tell.” He crosses his arms over his thick chest and stands by my side like an attack dog protecting his—
“Oh my God,” I snap. “He told you to watch me.”
“Not exactly . . .” he draws out, but Lucky’s a lousy liar.
“Lucky—”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Rome groans as he walks off the stage and into the staging area, taking his hat off his head and putting it on my head.
“What are you doing?” I ask, ripping the hat right back off and flinging it at him. “This is huge.”
Rome takes my hand in his and leads us through another door into a private room where less people linger. “Get out,” he shouts, and the few that are here all scurry away, probably pissing themselves because this man sounds murderous. “You were supposed to be staying safe and hidden in our room.”
“Well, dear.” My glare is fucking glacial as I rip my hand out of his.
“How was I supposed to know that? You never came back and told me. I had no idea where you were, what was going on, or what your plan was. And you weren’t answering your phone.
Did you really think I’d stay put like a good little girl?
” I feel the anger mixing with hurt as his words start to sink in and take hold.
“And what do you mean hidden? Why do I need to stay hidden? If you didn’t want me to come, you should have told me that before we left Kroydon Hills. ”
“Tell her, man,” Lucky pushes from across the room as Killian and Liv walk in behind him.
Great. I get an audience for my humiliation.
“Tell. Me. What?” I ask so fucking quietly but with considerable force behind each word, suddenly petrified of what he’s about to say. “No secrets, Rome.”
“Can you guys give us the room?” he asks his team much more nicely than the way he ordered the staff out. And I hate knowing that everyone but me is in on this. They all know something I don’t, and it not only affects this man that I love but me too.
Everyone leaves. Everyone but Lucky, who stands like a soldier blocking the door.
“I’m not leaving, and I’m not letting anyone in. Deal with it,” he tells his brother, and I decide maybe Lucky isn’t quite the little dick I always thought he was.
“Fuck . . .” Rome grabs the back of his neck and looks away, doing a lousy job of hiding his frustration or the fear winding through him before he brings his eyes to mine. He bends his knees and grabs my face. “I love you, Dillan.”
“You’re scaring me, Rome,” I admit quietly as my chest tightens and my heart splinters. I wrap my fingers around both his wrists and hold him where he is. “Tell me what’s happening . . . Please.”
“I’m so sorry, principessa.”
Principessa. That word has never sounded sadder falling from his lips.
“Tell me,” I demand, scared to breathe.
Am I losing him when I only just got him back?
His eyes sink, and so does my heart.
“The scum bag who faked the sex tape is trying to extort money now . . . He didn’t get what he wanted the first time, so now he’s blackmailing me . . .” I suck in a breath. “And he’s using you to do it.”
“Oh my God.” I drop his hands and cover my mouth. Guilt that I somehow helped put him in this situation instantly threatens to drown me. “I’m so sorry.”
“Dillan . . . No.” He kisses my forehead. “You didn’t do anything wrong . . . He knows.”
My eyes search his for an answer I’m not getting.
A path of breadcrumbs I’m struggling to follow.
Awareness pricks at my mind but doesn’t sync.
And maybe it’s the long day or the heightened emotions, or maybe it’s just me, and I don’t want to see the answer, but it’s not making any sense. “Just tell me.”
I watch his Adams apple work as he swallows and presses our foreheads together.
Closing his eyes and breathing me in.
“He knows you’re Theia DeLaurentiis,” he finally admits, and all the air is suddenly sucked from the room, and I’m struggling to breathe. “And he’s threatening to tell the world if I don’t do what he wants.”
I step back, putting physical space between us. Matching the space Rome has forcefully shoved there all day. “What does he want?”
Rome looks past me to Lucky, and for a moment, I think he’s not going to answer me, and I swear to God I see red. “Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”
My head and my heart war with each other, anger and rage mixing with hurt for a lethal kind of battle as I hold my breath, waiting for an answer so we can come up with a strategy. But how can you plan if you don’t know all the pieces in play? “What does he want?”
Rome brushes his lips over mine so softly I could cry because it feels like I’m losing him.
“They want him to throw the fight,” Lucky announces, and my head spins.
No. He can’t do that.
Rome fucking freaks, and tears fill my eyes as the brothers practically come to blows. Killian rushes back inside, no doubt hearing Rome’s roar of anger. He steps between them, momentarily cooling everyone down and inadvertently giving me the time I need to slip through the door.