Chapter 37 #2
“I was wondering how long it would take for you to reach out to me. Lucia mentioned you looked like you were about to burst an artery when they left,” he says before I even get the chance to speak.
There’s a lot I could say to that. My first instinct is to deny it outright, but I didn’t call him to play games.
“I was wondering if I could drop Lil’ Peach off at your place for a few hours?” Instead of answering, he barks out a laugh. “This isn’t funny, arsehole. It’s a legitimate question.”
“I anticipated that very request,” he replies, trying to strip the humour from his voice but not quite managing it.
I run a hand over my cropped hair and continue pacing.
My brain is running wild with the worst possible scenarios involving Emily.
Some fucking grub, or ten of them, circling her like she’s prey, just waiting for their chance to pounce.
And the fact that I’m standing here, powerless to stop it, is making me feel dangerously close to losing my mind.
“Is that a yes or a fucking no?” I growl.
“I can’t look after Peach …” he replies, and the knot in my gut tightens.
“She’s already asleep. She’ll be no trouble.” My words come out like a plea. Begging isn’t something I ever do, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
“If you let me finish,” he retorts. “Arabella has agreed to watch Peach and Gabe.”
My feet come to an abrupt stop. “She has?”
He clears his throat before answering. “Yeah.”
“How come?”
“How come what?” he asks.
“Did she offer, or did you ask her?”
“Does it really matter?” he replies.
“Yeah, it does.”
He blows out a long, frustrated breath before admitting, “Because that fucking poor excuse for a dress my wife decided to wear out tonight was borderline indecent, and although I trust her implicitly, I don’t trust those fucking sleazebags at the club.”
A slow breath leaves my lungs because I know exactly what he’s saying.
“Right,” I mutter.
I’m already heading towards my room. I need to shower and change before I leave.
“What’s our plan?” I ask Romeo when he slides into the passenger seat of my car outside the boss’s house.
I feel stupid for being here. Of all the dumb things I’ve done in my life, this has to be up there. Arabella was more than gracious when we arrived. Dante didn’t say much, but the amusement on his face had me wanting to smack it straight off.
Romeo shuts the door and glances at me, way too calm for someone about to be part of whatever this is. “First of all, you need to relax.”
“That’s not a plan,” I grumble.
“It’s step one,” he says, settling back in his seat and reaching for the seat belt. “You’re wound so tight you’re going to scare her off when she takes one look at you.”
I eye him sideways. “I’m not scaring anyone off.”
“Really?” he retorts. “The way I see it is my wife wouldn’t be out painting the town red if it weren’t for you.”
I exhale, forcing my hands to loosen on the steering wheel. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“Yet here we are,” he deadpans.
“Do you have a plan or not?” I growl. “Or are we just going to wing it when we get there?”
“We’re going to the club to make sure nobody touches our women. It’s not that deep.”
“It feels that deep,” I mutter. “And for the record, Emily is not my woman.”
Romeo barks out a laugh. “You’re unbelievable. You drag your kid across town in the middle of the night so you can stalk a woman you claim you don’t even want.”
“I’m not stalking her,” I protest, but the truth is, I’ve been doing just that for years now.
To amplify that thought, one of my hands drops from the steering wheel and into my pocket so I can roll her fucking Chapstick between my fingertips.
I’ve been carrying this damn thing around with me all day.
I gave up obsessing over it the moment I got Emily in my house, but now that it feels like she’s slipping through my fingers, it’s become my lifeline again. I guess old habits die hard.
“You’re absolutely stalking her,” he counters.
I let out a disapproving grunt, reach over to turn up the radio, and press my foot harder on the accelerator, signalling that this conversation is over.
When I hear him chuckle beside me, I’m almost tempted to slam on the brakes and send him careening through the windscreen. He was smart enough to put on his seat belt when he got in, so that move would be fruitless.
My fists are balled and shoved deep in the pockets of my trousers, one hand wrapped around that damn Chapstick of hers.
There’s a scowl set on my face as I walk beside Romeo, nodding at the two men manning the front door of the Crimson Lounge. One I recognise from when I worked here; the other must be new.
I’ve never been a customer here before. Even when there were staff parties around the holidays, I skipped them. I wasn’t here to make friends, so I never saw the point of hanging around with my workmates.
Now I’m back, and it feels different. Louder, busier, and I don’t quite fit in the way everyone else seems to.
Romeo stands beside me, unfazed as always. “Try not to look like you’re about to start a fight.”
“I’m not,” I mutter.
“Hmm,” he hums unconvinced, but I don’t bother arguing. I’m not here to cause trouble. Not really. But if trouble finds me, that’s a different story. If I see some guy with his hands on Emily, I already know I’m not walking away from it.
I don’t like anyone playing with my things. I never have and never will. And right now, sitting back and doing nothing while someone I care about is here unprotected, in the company of God knows fucking who, and possibly inebriated, leaves me with no option.
Romeo lightly elbows my side, and when my gaze snaps to him, he gestures with his chin towards the bar. “Let’s get a drink and see if alcohol can calm you down.”
“I don’t drink, remember?” Although for the first time in years, I’m starting to second-guess that decision. Maybe some liquid courage is exactly what I need.
He rolls his eyes like I’m the lamest enforcer he’s ever met, but I have my reasons for not drinking.
“Suit yourself. I’m getting a beer,” he says, striding away.
I don’t bother following. Instead, my eyes move around the club, seeing if I can spot the girls.
When I don’t see them in my immediate vicinity, I push further in, the music getting louder, the crowd thicker, and too many bodies brushing past me as lights flash overhead. My gaze drags over every face, every corner, every dark booth.
As soon as the dance floor comes into view, I spot her, dancing up a storm with Lucia.
She looks … different.
Lighter. Like whatever’s usually weighing her down isn’t with her tonight. Her head tips back as she laughs, her blue eyes bright, her long golden hair falling loose down her back as she moves without a care.
This is a side of her I’ve never seen before. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing, just her letting go, like she’s forgotten the rest of the world exists.
This isn’t the poised and polished Emily dancing I see when she’s giving Lil’ Peach ballet lessons at home. This is something else entirely. She’s freer … real in a way that makes it hard to look away. She’s not performing for anyone, not even herself.
For a second, I stand watching her as my chest tightens. The heel of my palm comes up, pressing against my breastbone, as if it might ease the constraint. She’s so fucking beautiful. A damn vision. And even though I know I don’t deserve a woman like her, I still want her.
I’m so caught up in Emily that I don’t even notice Romeo beside me again until he speaks. “Holy shit,” he breathes. “Is that a fucking smile on your face?”
My hand drops and my expression becomes taunt again, but it’s too late. This man is on to me, and I’m done denying it. I came here for a reason, and I’m done waiting.
I’m already pushing through the crowd, moving towards her before my mind catches up. My eyes are locked on her like nothing else in this place matters.
What I’m going to do or say when I reach her, I have no clue. I don’t even know how she’s going to react to seeing me here. But I don’t care. I’m going to do something I rarely do; I’m going to put myself out there.
It could very well backfire in my face, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take. Either way, this back-and-forth bullshit between us ends tonight.