“Oh God!” Charles’ mistress wails. “Help him!”
Roman rips open his shirt, doing compressions that I can tell are not hard enough to revive his heart. Over and over, he bounces on his chest, pausing only to do mouth-to-mouth. I cannot be certain, but I am fairly sure Roman is not blowing anything into Charles’s mouth, let alone doing it correctly. For one, it is not recommended anymore and Roman would know that. And for two, there is definitely poison on Charles’ lips.
The paramedics arrive and finally relieve Roman as he slips back around and pulls me closer to his chest. Again, for just a moment, I let myself believe this is real. Two worried, normal people, in love at a charity gala.
The paramedics announce Charles’ death at the scene. Women whimper in the arms of their loved ones as his mistress is questioned by the police. When we see her point towards us, we know we are next.
As far as they are aware, we are nothing more than acquaintances who didn’t even realise Charles would be here tonight. I give myself a mental high-five for a job well done as we hand over our fake identities, assuring them we are happy to support their investigation if needed.
Roman makes his way to the valet to collect his car. He directs me into the passenger seat and does my seatbelt like last time. Jumping into the driver’s side, he fiddles with the music before‘It’s A Man’s Man’s Man’s World by Seal’comes through the speaker.
“Tinkerbell…”
“Not right now, Ro, please… I’m…” I take in a deep breath and force myself to stare at his perfect side profile as his eyes flick between me and the road. “I’m tired.”
“It’s okay, little one,” he mutters softly. “Close your eyes.”
He leans back and grabs a blanket I hadn’t noticed from the backseat. Placing it over me, he turns up the heating tocombat the October chill. For the first time in weeks, I feel safe, cocooned in his presence and scent.
I close my eyes, drifting off to the sound of Roman singing a quiet harmony with Seal, telling me life would mean nothing without a woman or a girl.
The last thought I have before sleep takes me is that Charles’ last words were ‘I want’, which feels ironic, because wanting got him killed. I want a lot of things too… but I won’t be stupid enough to lose my life for them.
CHAPTER 8
FAE
My body aches as I shift against the bedsheets, the heaviness of sleep is still clinging to me. I must have been more exhausted than I thought, probably a mix of grief and whatever was in the poison. Roman didn’t exactly help matters either. The memory of last night settles low in my body as heat creeps up my neck before I can stop it. God, I cannot believe we nearly had sex in the bathroom. To make matters worse, he must have carried me in from the car and tucked me into bed last night.
Roman’s cologne clings to me, drowning everything else out, and the first thing I promise myself is that I’m getting in the shower the second I’m up and scrubbing him off my skin. I wonder if I scrub hard enough, whether it would erase him completely. It won’t. I already know that.
I’ve tried before. Not with Roman of course, but with every other grotesque man I’ve been forced to sleep with. The ones who smell decent are easier. I can close my eyes and pretend they’re not so bad, pretend I’m somewhere else, with someone who actually wants me for more than my body.
But it’s the ones who smell like onion and sweat that reeks of garlic that stay with me and linger. No amount of distancein my own head gets me through those jobs and no amount of scrubbing takes their hands off my skin.
With every kiss and every touch, I lose a little more of myself.
Finally I drag myself back to the present and try to shift, but something is weighing me down. An arm tightens around me from behind, pulling me closer against a solid body. My eyes snap open as my heart starts kicking hard.
I try to take in the room around me but it’s dark… almost deliberately so. If I squint I can see a shelf lined with ornaments in front of me and strange artwork hanging on the wall. How did I get here? And why are they holding me like I’m something worth keeping?
A shudder runs through me as I force myself to breathe. Slowly and carefully, I move my hand to where they’ve pinned me against them, keeping every movement small and controlled. Thankfully, I can feel clothes on my body. At least they didn’t touch me while I was unconscious.That’s something, I guess.
I manage to create the smallest bit of space, but before I can move, the stranger drags me back against them, their grip tightening until it almost knocks the breath from my lungs.
“Hmm, I’m annoyed you haven’t figured out it’s me, Tink,” he mumbles and I freeze.
Fucking Roman.
“Roman…” I warn, not even sure what else to say.
“Tinkkkk…” he mimics, dragging it out and I grind my teeth. Whatever game he’s playing, I don’t want in. A headache is already starting to build and it’s putting me in a foul mood.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m cuddling you and you keep trying to get out,” he deadpans.
Just once I want him to read between the lines so I don’t have to ask everything so directly. Sometimes I wonder if that’s whyhe does it, forcing people to say things plainly instead of letting them hide behind anything softer.