THIRTY-THREE
IN STRUAN’S BATHROOM, under the rain, surrounded by steam, she ought to be able to come up with one good reason he should join her in the shower again. Other than she couldn’t stop wanting him.
The man got up at four thirty, again, still dark, but he’d returned to their bed to be there when she woke up. After that she may have kept him in bed way longer than was polite. Wasn’t so bad when rude, in a dirty way, was kinda the theme.
“She’s gone. She’s fucking gone!”
Roman’s voice from the bedroom registered enough that she could recognize it was him. Beyond that, she didn’t care much about what he was saying. Shame her guy couldn’t be so detached.
“Who’s gone?” Struan asked. Ah, his was a voice she could listen to all day long. “What you talking about?”
“This is what they do, they get close, then they fuck you. That’s what this is. We’re getting fucked. Her shit’s in her room. She’s been here since last night, was here. Now she’s fucking gone! God knows what she’s planning. Bet Roxie’s involved. We can’t trust her. You shouldn’t trust her!”
The shaving gel wrought no reward, so she left the shower, putting the empty can on the vanity as she held a loose towel to her chest. Hugging the doorframe, she peeked into the bedroom.
“Beau…” As he looked over his shoulder, she winced. “Sorry to interrupt. Shaving gel?”
“Lower middle cabinet.”
“What the fuck?” Roman sidestepped at the bottom corner of the bed to set her in his sights. His glare cut to his brother. “You’re fucking my fiancée?”
Struan laughed. “Are you shitting me? Your fiancée? This started when me and B got together.”
“She’s my fucking fiancée! You’re fucking my fiancée in my fucking house—”
“It’s a rental,” Struan said, unimpressed.
“My fucking rental—”
“Paid for by the studio.”
What was the point of giving the guy a salary if he didn’t have any bills? Money really did go to money. What else had been laid on for him? Bet none of the crew got the same perks, Struan included. Where was his fancy mansion? Guy deserved some peace and quiet. Maybe a cabin in the woods would be better. With an open fire… faux fur rug… and nothing but time.
“For me,” Roman spat. “You don’t get to do this shit. Under my roof, you think you can fuck around on my dime in my house? Not in this house! Not here! I make the rules here! It’s my rules!”
“Okay.”
Struan went into the closet and she ran back to turn off the shower. Shaving would wait. She wrapped the towel around herself tight and entered the closet just as Roman appeared at the other door.
Struan already had a gym bag open on the central bench.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Roman demanded. “What is that?”
“You’re right. No reason this should happen under this roof. Better we provide for ourselves. We’re getting out of here, B.”
She snagged one of Struan’s tee-shirts from a nearby drawer, dropping her towel only after the garment covered her decency.
“I’ll get my purse.”
Before she could even turn around, Roman grabbed her arm. The contact startled her, but not as much as Struan.
Dropping the bag flap, his stoop straightened a little. “Take your hand off her.”
“My fiancée,” Roman spat like she was a possession.
When Struan’s eyes met hers, the squirm of her shoulders set him to full height. “Let her go or there won’t be anything left of you to put in front of the camera.”
“You won’t fucking touch me. I’m your damn career. Your damn life.”
“Let her go, Ro.”
He tugged his hand loose, holding it up for a disgusted second before scoffing. “I’ll let you save face, just shut the fuck up and keep your hands off—”
“Get what you need, B.”
A single instruction and she spun around to exit via the bathroom. Yeah, Roman was hollering, but she didn’t listen. They may not have much time. Rushing to her bedroom, she heard someone coming up the stairs as she hurried into the closet. She swiped a scrunchie from the shelf and tied her wet hair on her head. Sweatpants, hoodie, she snatched her purse, stuffed underwear in there and slipped her feet into ballet slippers.
And, ah, she snagged her packed laptop bag from the hook by the door and went out, just in time to meet Struan coming the other way. At the top of the stairs, they joined hands and descended together. Roman’s shouts mixed with Magnus’ exclamations until nothing was decipherable. Didn’t matter when nothing they could say would change anything. This was their liberation.
Rather than get into one of the two waiting limos in the driveway, Struan led her around the side of the building to a Cayenne, which he boosted her into before getting in the driver’s side.
“I’ve never seen this before,” she said, putting on her seatbelt.
“It’s mine.”
“Oh.”
Good, no one could accuse them of stealing. Roman, and his wares, were surplus to requirements. They shot past Roman and Magnus on the stairs and crunched their way out onto the street.
“You see me taking a limo to work alone?”
No. Until then, she’d never thought about it. Struan definitely wasn’t the kind of guy who’d want lifted and laid everywhere.
“Are you okay?”
“You don’t have to come with me,” he said, glancing at her. “If you want to stay—”
“Oh, be quiet,” she said. “I only agreed to any of this craziness to support you. I said you were my guy and I meant it.”
He reached over to squeeze her knee. “He’s right, it’s time. We need to figure this out.”
“Where are we going?”
“Yours?”
Unsure if he knew the address, it took her a while to figure out the sat nav, but eventually put in the details.
“Magnus was mad.”
“He’ll want to fix this,” he said, eyes on the road. “That’s what he does. He fixes things.”
“For Roman. I don’t see him doing the same for you.”
His head tilted and his frown became confused. “Can’t think of a time I’ve needed him to fix anything.”
“We aren’t broken,” she said, sure that had to be made clear. “This doesn’t have to be fixed. But if you two were on equal footing, he’d have fixed this so we could be together from the start.”
“Like me, he works on autopilot. Probably didn’t occur to him this might be real.”
And she couldn’t blame him for that. No one knew. Their energy may have fizzed, but even she’d assumed it wasn’t for keeps. Why else would she have run away from that basement?
“Now that it is? Will he fix it?” The long, lingering silence wasn’t too encouraging. Even if Magnus wanted to fix it, how could he? How could they? “Are you sorry we left? We can go back to—”
“I’m done making choices solely in Roman’s best interests. He’s made his position clear.”
“He’s your brother and I’ll support you in anything. Don’t feel like you have to do this for me. You’re a package deal, I knew that from the start… almost the start.”
His scowl cut to her. “Regrets already?”
“No! I just…” She licked her lips, hugging her bags closer to her body. “I want to keep you, beau. I don’t want you resenting me for busting—”
“Roman’s the only one I resent. This isn’t your doing, it’s his. Things are going to change. It’s up to him if he wants to adapt or cut ties.”
She believed him. As her gaze tracked to the road he concentrated on, it sunk in. They’d broken ranks. Fled with each other. Prioritized their relationship. She’d told Roxie she wasn’t enough to change things between the brothers. That she wasn’t enough for Struan to… He was taking control of his life, his destiny, and asking her to be a part of whatever his future may be.
Leaning over, she stroked his powerful arm. He caught her hand to bring it to his lips. Together. They were actually together.
He kept hold of her until they got to her street and pulled up at the sidewalk.
“Stay there.”
In her seat? He hurried around the hood and opened her door for her. This wasn’t a driver doing his job. This guy wanted to take care of her, respect her.
What she wanted to do was kiss him. There on the street probably wasn’t a great idea. Not until they figured this out. When they did, would they really belong to each other?
After he looped her bags onto his shoulder, she accepted his proffered hand and kept hold when he opened the back door to grab his bag too. Anyone could see them. So far all she saw were regular people, no photographers or reporters, but what did she know? Maybe they had stealth mode.
Going inside, they went upstairs. She hadn’t been here for a—Struan had never been here. This man was used to a certain lifestyle. A level of luxury she couldn’t provide.
Trepidation crept in. “My place isn’t much,” she said, turning the key in the lock.
Struan reached around her to swing the door open and, with a hand on her waist, guided her inside.
“Roxie’s place is so much nicer and if Tripp’s there—”
The bags hit the floor and he whirled her around to catch her face in both hands. The pressure of his unexpected kiss flashed lights in her closed eyes until the pressure ebbed.
“You live here?” His question vibrated her sensitive mouth. She nodded, head still in his cradling hands. “We together?” Another nod. “Then I live here too.” That certainty curled her dopey lips. “We’ll worry about money and where we want to be long-term later. Right now, we’re safe, that’s what counts.” Lowering his voice to a growl, he kissed her again. “And our place has a bed, doesn’t it?”
On a purr, she threaded their fingers together and guided him across the open plan living room kitchen through the opposite door… to the bedroom.
“It sure does.”