Part 15 (1/2)

It's not even so much over the fact that our father actually wants to marry that b.i.t.c.h-though that sucks no matter which way you look at it-it's the idea of me not feeling welcome at my family's business. That I would rather walk away from my legacy than work with a woman I despise. Once Violet left, it's as if everyone at Fleur forgot I existed, even our father. I wasn't called into strategy meetings anymore. I attended the publicity events and that was it. I was bored. Unused. Frustrated.

I should go back. I can't stand by and watch my father fall deeper and deeper into Pilar's control, can I?

Leaning my hands on the edge of the sink, I peer at my reflection in the mirror, desperately looking for something. An answer, a solution, an idea ... anything to help me figure out what I should do next.

But I see nothing. Just my pitiful face staring back at me, the remnants of my tears drying on my cheeks and the hopelessness in my eyes.

I push away from the sink with a little sound of frustration and exit the bathroom, returning to the bed to see that Caden hasn't moved at all. He's still sprawled on his stomach, his arms stretched up over his head, his left leg bent upward. The sheets lie across his lower back, revealing all that delicious muscled goodness, and the familiar tingle sweeps over my skin, setting me on fire.

When do I not want him? And there is no better time than now, when I'm feeling at my lowest point. Caden will know how to make me feel better. A teasing comment accompanied by one of his s.e.xy smiles will help me forget. An o.r.g.a.s.m will chase away all of my blues. I take off the tank top and boy shorts I wore to bed, leaving them in a pile on the floor. My nipples are already hard and between my thighs I'm wet. Eager.

Ready.

Sliding beneath the sheets, I lie on my side facing him, my gaze roaming over his sleeping face. His features are relaxed, his lips slightly parted, his breathing slow and even. His hair is a mess, but what else is new? The man is in desperate need of a haircut, but I refuse to suggest it because, well ... I love his hair. It's long and soft and constantly bothers him, and I love it when he flicks his head to get the annoying strands out of his eyes.

I love it more when I feel it brush against my skin as his lips make their way down my body.

”You're staring,” he murmurs, his eyes still closed, his expression not really changing beyond his moving lips.

A squeal escapes me and I press my lips together, irritated that he caught me. I shove at his shoulder but it's like pus.h.i.+ng a wall of steel, so he doesn't so much as budge. ”You scared me.”

”Good. Stalkers scare me too.” He cracks open one eye and smiles. But as fast as it appears, the smile fades, and he moves so fast he turns into a blur. He's sitting up, pulling me by the shoulders so I'm in his lap. ”What's wrong, baby?”

Great. Not only is he knowledgeable in the o.r.g.a.s.m department, but he's also perceptive to my moods. ”I'm fine,” I say with a shrug, refusing to crack.

He streaks his fingers down my cheek, his gaze never leaving mine. ”You sure?”

I waver. Should I tell him? We've never discussed anything too personal. Nothing about our pasts, very little about our present, definitely no discussing the future-absolutely nothing about it is mentioned. We don't talk about my job or his. We don't talk about my family or his. Current events, movies, what's going on around London, what's happening at home ... those are safe topics.

He mentioned a friend who's visiting in London like he is, a guy named Mitch.e.l.l who's a total a.s.shole and worth a ton of money, but other than that, there's been nothing. No major reveal, no intimate conversations beyond the I want your p.u.s.s.y or Please let me suck your c.o.c.k variety.

Okay, we're not that crude all the time. But our moments together are hotter more often than not and I love it. I love losing myself when I'm with him.

But maybe ... I do want his help. His input with this problem. It could bring us closer. ”I'm sure.” I nod, trying to breathe past the sudden ache in my chest. I'm such a chicken. From the skeptical look he's wearing, I know Caden doesn't believe me, and that's fine. I'm not ready to share this piece of me all the way yet. ”Could you just ... hold me for a while?” I grimace the second the words are said and I shake my head, burying my face in the crook of his neck. ”Never mind. That was so incredibly cheesy ...”

”Sshh.” He silences me and gathers me close in his strong embrace. I wrap my arm around his waist, splaying my hand across his back as I press my face against his chest. I hear the steady beat of his heart, and it rea.s.sures me as it always does.

He rubs my back, his touch gentle, but then ... slowly ... it becomes firmer. His hand sweeps across my backside as he picks me up and readjusts me so I'm straddling him, my legs wrapping around him so my ankles press against his spine.

”I know how to make you feel better,” he murmurs in my ear, nuzzling my cheek with his nose as he reaches for my breast, cupping it in his big hand.

”I'm sure you do.” This is what I was counting on, what I needed from Caden. He does know how to make me feel better. He washes away any of my doubt, my uncertainty, my insecurities with his irresistible hands, his smart mouth, his perfect c.o.c.k ...

But there's more to this man than his body. He's inherently kind. He wants to take care of me. Though he might not say those words out loud, his actions speak for themselves. It doesn't matter to him who I am or what I represent. He just ... likes me. Rose. Not Rose Fowler, youngest daughter of Forrest Fowler and heiress to the Fleur Cosmetics line. I'm not Violet's sister or Lily's sister or Dahlia's granddaughter to Caden.

I'm just me. Rose. Or Ro, as he likes to call me sometimes. I like that too because no one else calls me that. Just Caden.

Together we're just Rose and Caden, hanging out in London. And that works. No matter how temporary or fleeting this moment is, I'm here, in it. Living it.

And I'm going to make the most of it.

Chapter Fourteen.

Caden

”Violet wants us to go out with them tonight.”

I'm sitting in bed-we walked around earlier, getting some fresh air and picking up coffee-watching Rose as she gets dressed for work. Yes, work. She's actually going into the Fleur offices for a mid-afternoon meeting after much wheedling and persuading on her sister's part. I don't know exactly what's going on between the sisters and Fleur and the rest of the family, but I know it's not good. It's making Rose upset.

And I don't like seeing my girl upset.

Not that she's talking to me, confessing all of her problems, which I get. I totally get it. Really she's not my girl. I have no right to think of her that way-even though I do.

”Go out where?”

She adjusts the thin black belt that goes with the cream-colored sleeveless dress she's wearing and turns to face me. ”You'll never guess.”

”The White Swan,” I say in perfect deadpan.

”You're so smart.” She leans over me and drops a kiss on my waiting lips. ”We don't have to go if you don't want to.”

”Who's going to be there?” I ask warily, waiting for her answer.

”Violet, Ryder, and Nigel. Maybe another woman from work, but no Whitney,” she adds hurriedly.

Thank Christ. I haven't talked to Whitney since I fled her flat and I know she's p.i.s.sed at me. I need to call her soon and make up to her, but not yet. She needs more time to get over it. ”I like Nigel.”

She smiles. ”So do I.”

”I think we should go.” I lean back against the padded headboard, bending my arms behind my head and interlocking my fingers against my neck. ”It's time for you to get back out into the real world, sweetheart.”

Rose rolls her eyes as she grabs a pair of earrings from the top of the dresser, slipping one pearl into her ear, then the other. They're gorgeous pearls. Perfect l.u.s.ter, perfect color, and the perfect size, they'd get a fair amount on the black market. I know this because if they weren't Rose's earrings, they'd already be in my possession. h.e.l.l, I probably would've already cashed them in and wired the money into Mom's bank account.

She'd notice, though. She wears them every single day and no way could I risk snagging them. The Poppy Necklace on the other hand ... I have no idea where it is. And I'd like to find it.

But the minute I find it, I'm out. Headed back home to cash it in and then go see Mom in Miami.

Thinking of my mother reminds me that I need to call her. This afternoon would be good, since I'll be alone for the first time since Rose and I got together. Or whatever we can call this ... thing we're doing.

”And what do you do in the real world anyway?” she asks, her voice casual though I know she's fis.h.i.+ng.

Finally. I wondered how long it would take for her to start asking questions.

”I do exactly what you see.” I grip my hands together tight, hating the lie that's about to fall from my lips. ”Travel around, see the world.” Well, part of that is true. I just left off the other part. I tried going to college, but it was too d.a.m.n expensive and I couldn't focus. Tried going straight and finding a real job, but that was an epic fail on all accounts. Got Mom the h.e.l.l out of New York and moved her to Florida, somewhere I've thought about going more than once.