Page 116 of The Obsession
I shove my hand into my pocket and pull out my phone, but instead of texting Romeo this time, I hit call.
“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.
