Chapter 7
ROSE
Trevor came into the room as I was trying to coax Sweetpea out of his carrier and almost did an about-turn in horror.
“Relax,” I said dryly. “He’s not coming out of there anytime soon because he hates this apartment as much as I do.”
“I told you it was like going to Siberia,” he replied, with a shrug.
“It’s way worse than Siberia, Trevor. It’s so bleak. And why is there no colour anywhere?”
“Give your demon cat some time,” said Trevor, with a snicker. “He’ll decorate the whole place in blood red.”
“I’m not going to be here that long,” I replied, with another unhappy glance around the room. “That bed looks like it’ll kick me off if I dare lie on it.”
“Pfft! It’s just unlived in, is all. You’re the first person to use this room.”
“Come on! I’m sure Dominic has had other guests stay over at his place,” I scoffed.
“Not in this room. His guests stay in one of the two guest apartments on the floor below this one, while his dates…well…” he broke off awkwardly, and I turned away to stare out of the window because the thought of Dominic sleeping with other women made me want to sic Sweetpea on this pristine penthouse and watch him reduce it to rubble.
“What about his friends?”
“What friends?” quipped Trevor. “He doesn’t let anyone get close enough to be a friend. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him kick back and chill with anyone. But you’ve known him for longer than I have.”
“I don’t know him,” I corrected. “Not really.”
“And yet, he came running to stop you from marrying Joe because he knew that moron could never make you happy. You might not know him well, Rose, but he knows you. Inside and out,” said Trevor thoughtfully.
Did he, I wondered. Did he know how I felt about him? Was that why he always kept me at a distance?
“How soon can I go back home?” I asked eventually.
“You’ve just arrived, Rosie,” scolded Trevor. “Here, let’s unpack your bag…ohmigod! Why do you have more notebooks than clothes in here?”
“Whaaat? I’m outlining a new book,” I said defensively. “You know I need to scribble all my ideas in a notebook before I actually start writing.”
He pulled out my tiered, floral skirt and matching mauve cardigan, and stared at them in disgust.
“Are you seriously trying to compete with Cece Blair wearing this?”
I snatched them back and stuffed them back in the bag before I put it away on a shelf in the large empty closet.
“I’m not competing with anyone. What is wrong with you, Trevor?” I cried. “This is temporary! I haven’t moved in with Dom. I’m here for one night or two, tops.”
“Rose, if two people were ever meant to be together, it’s you and the boss,” said Trevor softly. “If only you could see yourselves the way I do.”
“You can’t force desire where none exists, Trev,” I said sadly. “Dom has always treated me like the sister he never wanted, and nothing is ever going to change that. Now, help me get this little gremlin out of his carrier.”
We dangled some treats at the open top of the carrier until Sweetpea deigned to step out and sniff at our offerings. Trevor backed away when Sweetpea lunged at him, and I rolled my eyes.
“He’s just messing with you, Trev. Sweetie, no more treats for you if you’re not nicer to Uncle Trevor. Now, don’t make me get out the spray bottle,” I warned, and Sweetpea flashed a fang at me before he settled down to be brushed.
I turned to Trevor, who had finally stopped hugging the wall and ventured closer.
“He’s not used to being stuck inside a room all day, and it might stress him out. Do you think I can take him around the apartment on a leash?”
“Maybe manacles would be more his thing,” suggested Trevor, waggling his eyebrows at my cat. He took a hasty step back when Sweetpea growled at him. “Why does he hate men so much? He lets Mara pet him all the time.”
“The vet thinks he was traumatised by a male when he was an outdoor cat. Or maybe he just doesn’t trust your gender,” I replied, as I brushed Sweetpea’s thick fur gently.
“Eh, I don’t blame him,” said Trevor, with a shrug. “I don’t trust my gender either.”
“What’s wrong with him, Trev?” I asked softly.
“Umm, we just diagnosed it as a deep mistrust of the male gender,” he pointed out, shooting me a queer look.
I set the brush down and glared at him.
“I meant Dom. What’s wrong with him? This isn’t normal,” I said, waving a hand around the room. “He’s lived in this apartment for years now, and it still looks untouched. He doesn’t listen to music. There’s no colour in his life.”
“Babe, that’s too much for ordinary mortals like us to unpack.
He needs a therapist,” said Trevor, with a snort.
“If you think this room is weird, you should see his bedroom. I’m convinced his big white bed opens up into a coffin after sunset.
There’s no other explanation for it. The only colour in there comes from his bookshelf. ”
Speaking of bookshelves, I remembered that I needed to retrieve my book before he got a chance to read it.
When we’d walked into the apartment, I remembered Dom pulling it out of his jacket and tossing it onto the coffee table in the centre of the room.
I stood up hastily and grabbed Trevor’s hands.
“I need to speak to Dom urgently. Can you stay here and watch Sweetpea?” I begged.
“Umm, why don’t I go and talk to the boss on your behalf, and you watch your little monster?” he countered.
“Don’t be such a chicken! You’ll be fine. Just don’t piss him off.”
“And how exactly am I supposed to manage that?” he yelped.
“You’ll figure it out,” I said as I tiptoed out of the room.
The book wasn’t on the coffee table. It wasn’t anywhere in the living room, and neither was Dom. Which meant he and the book were in his bedroom. Which further meant that I had to barge in there if I wanted my book back.
I knew I was being unforgivably rude, but I was desperate! I didn’t know what I was going to say to him or how I was going to justify entering his bedroom, but I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to let him discover he was my muse. That would be beyond embarrassing.
Maybe I could tell him I wanted to borrow the book to check some series details for my next book. And then maybe I could tell him Sweetpea chewed up the book before I could give it back to him. Yeah, that sounded plausible…ish.
I knocked on Dom’s bedroom door, but there was no reply. Where on earth could he be? He wouldn’t have left the apartment without telling us. Maybe he had, I thought, and even though I knew I should walk away, I couldn’t resist turning the knob on his door.
When the door slid open smoothly, I poked my head into the room and heaved a sigh of relief when I found it empty. My heart jumped when I caught sight of my book lying on Dom’s bedside table. Phew! This was going to be easier than I thought.
I snuck into the room and tiptoed towards the bed, and had just grabbed the book when a door on the far side of the room swung open, and Dom appeared. Dressed in nothing but a towel.
He was rubbing his hair dry with a hand towel and didn’t notice me frozen in place next to his bed. My throat went dry as I stared at the sheer perfection of him. His broad shoulders and the wide, muscular wall that was his chest took my breath away, and I felt a gush of wetness in my panties.
I knew the exact moment he noticed me because he went still as a statue for a few seconds before he slowly moved the hand towel off his head and looked straight into my eyes.
“What are you doing in my room?” he growled, his eyes roving over my body slow enough to trail a path of fire wherever they went.
“I…I…”
I stuttered to a halt when his eyes fell on the book in my hands, and I waved it at him wildly.
“I wanted my book back,” I stammered. “For research purposes.”
“Nice try,” he said with a grin that lit up his face and made my heart do a sudden cartwheel in my chest.
He sauntered up to me - that was the only word for it - and plucked it out of my lifeless fingers.
“You’re so desperate to have it back…I wonder why,” he murmured, and my breath hitched as his low, rumbly voice sent sparks down my spine.
Before I could stop him, the bastard flicked the book open at a random page and began to read.
I crossed my fingers and prayed the book had fallen open at an emotional scene rather than a steamy one, but the growing flush on his cheekbones told me otherwise.
He read in silence for a couple of minutes, and I felt the air growing thicker by the second.
To distract myself, I tried to track the little droplet of water that dripped from his chin down to his shoulder and made its way down his torso. Unfortunately, that only made me want to trail it with my tongue, and I found myself getting very hot and bothered at the thought.
When I raised my eyes, I found him staring down at me, and the heat in his eyes made me swallow hard over my dry throat. Why was I suddenly feeling so parched?
“See something you like?” he asked softly, and I gulped.
Before I could make a bigger fool of myself, I reached for my book, but he held it just out of my reach and gave me a diabolical little smile.
“So, Rosie Posie…care to explain why your six-foot something ruthless billionaire hero with the black hair and silver eyes sounds so familiar?” he asked, and I was tempted to smack that shit-eating grin off his face.
“It’s the standard thirst trap in all romance books,” I said coldly. “My characters bear no resemblance to any person, living or dead.”
“That doesn’t explain why I just found you staring at me like I was the last slice of Quincy’s double chocolate cream pie,” he teased.
“I was just wondering how you got that ginormous head through the door,” I retorted, trying to calm my breathing.
“You know if you want to touch, you only have to ask,” he went on, and I decided his smug ass needed to be put in place.
“Really?” I asked, fluttering my eyelashes as I stared up at him. “So if I want to lick those droplets off your shoulder, I just need to ask?”
His face turned wary, and he coughed in surprise.
“Umm…I think I hear Trevor calling me,” he said, taking a hasty step back.
I took one step forward to match his, and frowned as I cocked my head slightly.
“I don’t hear anything,” I replied. “Now about those droplets on your shoulder…”
“You’re playing with fire, baby,” he warned gruffly, and I poked him in the chest with my index finger.
“And you are about to have your ass kicked, mister.”
“Get that finger out of my face,” he said softly.
“Ooh, is the big, bad billionaire bothered now? Scared of a little finger action?” I teased, running my finger down his chest lightly.
For some strange reason, the contact sent sparks running down my arm. I ignored the feeling and kept my eyes on Dom’s. I didn’t know what game we were playing, but I did know that I wasn’t going to let him win.
He wound his index finger around mine and pulled it away gently. I noticed that he didn’t let go, and neither did I.
“Fine. If that’s what you want,” he said, stepping closer, and I stared at him in confusion.
“Wh…what?”
“Lick away,” he said, his low and rumbly voice setting off little quakes inside me.