Chapter 15 ROSE
ROSE
Just breathe. Just keep breathing. As I gaze in the bathroom mirror, my fingers grip the edge of the vanity unit. I had to get away from him before he saw the tears pool in my eyes. I refuse to let him see me cry. Damn it, I won’t cry.
My hand hurts where the padded plaster is.
The way he took care of me and made me food was the most care a man’s ever shown me in years.
In fact, he’s the only man ever to show me that sort of attention.
Even more than my brother and father, but the way he looked at me with his dark stare full of hate and disappointment contradicts his actions.
I had to get out of the kitchen, unable to take the heat of his brooding stare and strong arms folded over his broad chest, and all those tattoos and skin and chest hair and oh my goodness, just stop drooling already. I hate him. I cannot forget that.
Why does he have to be so good looking? He could have at least put some weight on like me, but then I’d probably still find his dad bod attractive.
I wish he’d gone bald, but knowing him, he’d probably make that look hot, too.
I wish I did actually hate him. It would make this so much easier to bear.
In truth, I only tell myself I hate him, because loving him is too damn painful.
The front door clicks, making me jump. I look out the window as he walks down my drive, shirtless. My neighbour, Mrs. Aranda, is watering her garden. Holy crap, he’s gonna give her a heart attack.
She drops her sunglasses, the hose forgotten as it sprays all over the lawn.
Dan walks towards the picket fence separating our lawns and hands her the roses that he’s collected from the ground. She takes them with her gloved hand and smiles, then he gets in his car and drives away.
Finally able to breathe, I step out of the bathroom and trudge down the stairs. My heart clenches at the sight of the single pink rose on the console table with the thorns stripped off and the picture of my son skewed again.
I open the door and step out into the sun, squinting at Mrs. Aranda.
“Hello, dear. You didn’t say you’d employed a gardener.” She stands and wipes her brow, a small trowel in her hand.
“Gardener?” My brows pull together.
“Mind you, I’ve a good mind to employ him myself.” She chuckles. “He looks like a very nice young man.”
“He’s not young. He’s ten years older than me in his forties.”
“Anything below fifty is young in my book, dear.” She waves the trowel in my direction. “It’s about time you let your hair down. You can have some fun now. Your boy’s away at school.”
A smile curves my lips. “I don’t need a man to have fun, Sandra.”
“We can all bake a cake on our own, but it’s more fun when there’s two of you.” Her eyebrow lifts, and she bends back down to continue with her gardening, humming to herself.
I shake my head with a smile, feeling a little lighter as I stroll back to the house. I lock the door behind me, ignoring the rose on the side, and wander into the kitchen.
He’s cleaned my plate. Can the man be any more perfect? If only he wasn’t an untrustworthy backstabbing arsehole.
“I’ll be at yours in about fifteen,” Helena says, my only friend and the only person I trust with my son.
“Great. Did the boys have a good time last night?” I’ve already heard from Angelos as he texted me last night while staying over at a friend’s.
His mum, Helena, collected them from school Friday and now she’s dropping him off.
It helps that the school isn’t too far away.
Being one of England’s most prestigious boarding schools with top security helps ease my anxiety.
“The boys enjoyed the party. Now I need a lie down in a dark room. I’ve left the other half at home cleaning up.”
“Don’t blame you. Do you have time for a coffee?” I wipe the surface of my worktop, making sure everything is spotless.
“Yeah. The longer I’m away, the less clean-up I have to do.”
I smile into the handset. “All right. I’ll put the kettle on. See you soon.”
I cancel the call and jump at the sound of a chainsaw coming from my front garden. My heart kicks against my ribs as I spin on my heel, peering out of the window. The noise is deafening, an invasion of my peaceful Sunday morning.
My jaw drops, anger rising like flames licking at my racing heart as I stare at Dan on my front lawn, shirtless, holding a very large hedge trimmer. Of course it’s him. Who else would have the audacity to invade my privacy?
I barely register my feet moving before I’m yanking open the front door and stomping onto the grass, the cool blades tickling my bare toes.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shout, folding my arms over my baggy t-shirt. Strands of hair blow in front of my face with the light breeze and I shove them away with a huff.
Dan’s muscles vibrate as he wields the hedge trimmer, his ink glistening like black diamonds with a sheen of sweat under the sun’s rays.
He turns the trimmer off and lowers it to his side, his lips curving into that infuriating smirk as his eyes roam over me from my old band t-shirt to my leggings. “Morning to you too, fiore mio.”
“Don’t call me that. I’m not your flower.”
His eyes narrow. “Sorry I forgot, la mia spina velenosa.”
“You can call me a poisonous thorn if you like, but I’m not yours.”
The sun beats down on my face, and I lift a hand to shield my eyes from the blinding glare, but the view before me is just as imposing.
I once traced the wings of the angel on his chest, kissed the feathers that were for his mother. It’s been years, but if I close my eyes, I can still feel the tickle of his chest hair against my nose, the warmth of his body against mine, the weight of all my troubles lifted in his arms.
In my moment of weakness, he’s stepped closer, his fingers grazing my cheek as he swipes the blonde hairs from my face.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs, the words like a vow, dark and unwavering.
A shiver races down my spine.
“My beautiful rose, whose thorns pierced my heart. Your poison runs through my veins, clouding my thoughts, consuming me—mind, body, and soul.” His calloused fingers move from my cheek to my neck as he curls them around my throat.
I suck in a breath, my pulse hammering beneath his grip. Not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to make my breath hitch and my stomach tighten with something dangerously close to anticipation.
“Don’t you see, Rosetta?” His breath ghosts over my cheek, his voice almost reverent. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. Just because you evaded me all these years doesn’t mean you weren’t in my head.”
He’s been thinking of me all this time? The revelation knocks the air from my lungs faster than his hand on my throat, and I hate how my body betrays me.
Heat coils around my belly, my legs threaten to give out, barely holding my weight.
With the little strength I have left, I lift my hand and slap him across the face.
He smirks, but lets go of my throat before I pass out.
“Are you trying to strangle me?” I demand, my fingers brushing my throat, my skin still burning where he touched me.
“It’s tempting.” A cocky grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he places the hedge trimmer on the grass and grabs the shears.
“What are you doing?” I shuffle on my feet, the grass soft underfoot.
“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m trimming your bush.” He clips the brambles intertwined with the azalea bush, his shoulders shaking with silent amusement.
“I don’t need a gardener.” I huff, digging my fists into my hips. “Next you’ll want to fertilise my flower bed.”
“Well, your neighbour thinks that’s what I am now, so I’m just keeping up appearances while I keep an eye on you.” He steps away from me as he continues to trim the hedge.
“What are you, a cop now? I don’t need surveillance, and I certainly don’t need you here helping me.” I stomp forward, my annoyance outweighing my better judgement—until I stand on something sharp. “Ow.” My hand rests on his biceps as I jerk my foot up.
Dan rolls his eyes, but is fast to react, his firm hands sliding around my waist to steady me. “Don’t need my help, huh?” His voice is smug, but his eyes soften as he holds me upright.
“It’s your fault I stood on that stupid thing, just like it was your fault I cut my hand open yesterday.” I wave my hand in his face, with the sticky plaster covering my cut.
“Well, if you’d stop being so damn stubborn and fighting me all the time, maybe you wouldn’t keep hurting yourself.” There’s a dominant undertone in his voice that makes my pulse race.
He drops to his knees and cups my ankle. The rough pad of his thumb sliding along the sole of my foot sends tingles rushing through me like a ripple that grows stronger as it reaches my spine and I shudder.
My stomach flips. My grip tightens on his broad shoulders for support, and his muscles flex beneath my palms. “Is it bleeding?”
His gaze lifts, locking onto mine. “No. You’re good.” Without breaking eye contact, he brings my foot to his lips, pressing slow, deliberate kisses against my toes.
A rush of heat slams through me, my lungs forgetting how to work, my heart threatening to beat its way out of my chest. I should pull away. I should slap him again, but every cell in my body aches for him to kiss his way up my leg—to the apex of my thighs.
A dog barks, jolting me back to reality as fur brushes against my leg. Dexter, my neighbour’s Cavalier King Charles spaniel, jumps between us, his fluffy tail wagging as he licks Dan’s face.
Dan lets go of my ankle and fusses the dog. “Hey, where’d you come from?” His smile widens as he ruffles the dog behind his ears.
“He likes you.” I place my foot down on the soft grass, my knees wobbly. Somehow, this man has the power to infuriate me and make me melt all in the space of ten minutes.
“At least someone does.”
“Dexter, there you are.” My neighbour stands on my driveway with the dog’s lead in hand. “Morning, Grace.”
“Morning, Andy.”
Dan rises, straightening his spine, his palm settling on the small of my back.
“Oh. Didn’t see you there.” Andy steps onto my lawn, extending a hand to Dan. “You must be…”
Dan shakes his hand. “I’m Grace’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you.”
I side-eye him, my jaw clenching with a fake smile. Lying twat.
“Funny, she’s never mentioned you before.” Andy clips the lead onto Dexter’s collar.
“You know Grace, she’s a private person.” Dan casually slings an arm around my shoulders. “How long’s it been now, little bird? We met on one of her flights. Funny story, actually. She spilt hot tea all over me and to make it up to me, she offered to take me on a date.”
Andy straightens, giving Dan a once-over, then glances at me. “Tea, huh?” His lips twitch like he’s trying not to laugh. “Didn’t peg you for the clumsy type, Grace.”
I stare at Dan, my jaw practically unhinged. Tea? A spill? A date? He’s lost his damn mind.
Dan squeezes my shoulder, his thumb casually stroking the bare skin there, like he has any right. “Oh, it was a disaster, mate. Full pot. Piping hot. Right in my lap. Thought I’d never father children.”
I’ll make sure he can never father children after this.
Andy winces in sympathy. “Oof. Bet that hurt.”
“Oh, excruciating,” Dan says, all fake sincerity. “But Grace felt so bad. She insisted on looking after me. Sat with me the whole flight, brought me ice packs, dabbed at my—” He nods at his member.
I jab an elbow into his ribs before he can say something truly horrific. “It wasn’t that bad,” I grit out, my cheeks flaming.
Dan huffs a laugh but barrels on, undeterred. “Well, I wasn’t going to tell her this, but—” He leans in like he’s letting Andy in on some grand secret. “I might have exaggerated my pain a little. Just to keep her close.”
I blink. Is he trying to kill me? Right here? On my own lawn?
Andy chuckles. “Smooth. And she bought it?”
Dan grins. “Hook, line, and sinker. Ended up going out for drinks that night, didn’t we, little bird?”
I am going to strangle him with my bare hands.
Andy looks at me, amused. “Didn’t think you’d go for someone like him.”
“Oh, me neither,” I say through gritted teeth. “Total shock.”
“But she fell hard,” Dan adds, absolutely delighted with himself. “Didn’t stand a chance, did you, sweetheart?”
I side-eye him, my fake smile straining. “Mm. Hopeless.”
Andy laughs. “Okay, I’ll let you two lovebirds get back to it. Come on, Dexter.”
As soon as he’s out of earshot, I shove Dan’s arm off me and whirl to face him. “Boyfriend?” I hiss. “Are you actually deranged?”
Dan shrugs. “Seems easier than explaining the truth.”
“Right. Because the truth is that you’re an arsehole, trespassing in my garden.”
“You really need to work on your fake dating skills, little bird.”
I gape at him. “We are not fake dating. You just lied about everything.”
Dan shrugs. “Wasn’t everything. We did meet on a flight.”
I press my fingers to my temples, inhaling deeply. Stay calm. Murder is illegal. Even when it’s justified.
Dan lifts the neck of my baggy t-shirt and covers my bra strap.
Unfortunately, my body betrays me with a sharp, unwanted jolt of awareness. I bat his hand away, trying to shake it off.
“Right.” I clear my throat. “You’ve had your fun. Now, shoo.” I flap my hands at him as if I’m warding off a particularly infuriating seagull.
Dan just grins, completely unrepentant. “Not a chance, little bird. I think I quite like being your boyfriend.”
“Fake boyfriend.”
“There you go. You’re getting into it.”
I stomp my foot down, this time hitting the soil. “You can’t be here right now, Dan.”
His brows knit together. “Why not?”
“Because I’m expecting company.”
“Who?”
“Mind your own flippin’ business.” I press both my hands onto his chest in an attempt to push him away, but he grabs a hold of my hands and holds them against him. His heart beats under my palm and I’m taken back to the night we made love in my bedroom.
“Your mother asked me to protect you. I won’t be the one to tell her I failed. Whoever is coming over, you tell them whatever you want to tell them, but I’m not leaving.”
“It’s my son.” I yank my hands from his grip before I lose all self-control and succumb to any more of his demands.
A car rolls up to the curb. Helena tilts her sunglasses as she takes in the scene.
“At least put a bloody shirt on.” I tiptoe over the lawn, making sure I don’t tread on any more of the cuttings.