I want to tell him he doesn’t stand a chance with Demi, but since it will ruin the second half of my plan, I continue our negotiation as if he isn’t attempting to start a pissing contest. “Talking about Demi… I need another favor.” The firmness of Rocco’s jaw exposes that I’ve outstayed my welcome, but his failure to verbally announce that also gives me the silent go-ahead. “I need a place for her to bunker down for a couple of hours. Somewhere she’ll be safe.”
Rocco lights the cigarette dangling between his quirked lips before asking, “You want her to stay here?” When I jerk up my chin, he shakes his head. “No can do. The only women who make it past the foyer of my home are here to be thoroughly fucked. You don’t want that to happen, Ox, because she’ll be all like ‘did you put it in yet?’ by the time I’m done with her.”
“She’s your best friend’s cousin.”
“And?” he asks, acting ignorant to the fury in my tone. “Do you think that’ll stop me? Certainly didn’t work with his sister.” Smoke puffs out of his nose when he realizes his error. This is the second time he’s referenced Ophelia while spilling secrets this week. I don’t see Dimitri taking kindly to either of his confessions, but since I’m desperate for him to believe we’re on the same team, I’m not going to mention that.
When he realizes I’m not going to use his slip-up against him, Rocco stabs out his scarcely touched cigarette before taking a seat in one of the royal-looking chairs nestled around his living room. “Your girl can’t stay here because if there’s no one to subdue Dimitri’s anger when he realizes we played him, we’ll be wearing concrete boots by the morning.”
I twist my lips, a little lost. “What do you mean?”
Rocco points to Demi. “She isn’t Fien, but Dimi can’t look at her without imagining if his daughter will turn out like her. The Petretti genes are strong. There’s no denying them.” He stands to his feet like he’s bored with our conversation before he jerks his head to the stairwell on our left. “The guest bedroom is stacked with everything you’ll need. Wash up and get ready for your night, treat your girl like the princess she is, then head out, taking her with you. I’ll do what I can, Ox, but I make no promises.”
His words offer no guarantee, but the briefest glance he directs at Demi while bypassing her in the foyer most certainly does. He hates that we’ve put him in this situation, but he’d rather swim in shit than see Demi hurt.
“What did he say?” Demi asks once the healthy rumble of an engine fades to a barely audible buzz.
“He’s going to try.”
“Try?” Demi parrots, her tone low. She was hoping for more than a half-assed pledge.
Rocco can’t give that to her, but I most certainly can.
“What he can’t do, I can.”
She reads me as no one else can. “I don’t want you to fight, Maddox. I just want…”
“Sloane safe and well?” I fill in when words elude her.
She peers at me with her big, beautiful eyes out in full force before bobbing her head.
“Then we’ll do that. Together. Me and you, all right?” I track my finger across the faintest silver sliver in her cheek while muttering, “We can’t let the bullies win. If we do…”
“We’re just as big of a bully,” we say at the same time, smiling as the memory of my mom saying that very thing to us in the second grade fills our heads.
With my mood not as hostile as it was moments ago, I take Rocco up on his offer of a shower. I’m not dirty—it’s hard to work up a sweat in a twelve-foot by twelve-foot room when sexual activities are off the agenda—but I do feel a little grubby. This industry has a way of making you dirty even when you’re not.
If I were honest, I’d also admit I want to pamper Demi like she deserves. I haven’t trained in over a week, and with Col most likely still pissed about my win last month, he’ll summon his biggest, baddest fighter for tonight’s match.
I refuse to walk into the arena blind like I did last time. I put my life in the hands of law enforcement and scarcely walked away with my dignity intact. Who knows who the odds will favor this time around? Dimitri isn’t his father, but you can’t be raised by a monster and not have some of his grubbiness rub off on you. If my plan fails, this afternoon could be my final hours with Demi. I’m not giving them up for anyone.
Don’t misread what I’m saying. I’llneverdo anything to Demi she isn’t up for. I just want to hold her a little. Cherish her how she deserves to be cherished. I also want to love her like she’s never been loved.
When a monstrous bed in the room at the front of the top floor announces it is most likely the master suite, I guide Demi down the hall in the opposite direction. Halfway down, I spot a room that represents the one Rocco mentioned. The king-size bed has fresh towels stacked on it, the closet is brimming with clothes for all genders, and the attached bathroom is as big as the room. It’s the perfect spot to show Demi not all men are pricks.
Understanding of Nurse Sandy’s saying pummels into me when our entrance into the room is quickly followed by Demi shrugging off her jacket. She’s panicked out of her mind for her friend, but not even a bucketload of guilt allows her to say no to me. She still doesn’t realize love is meant to be painless.
“Huh,” Demi mutters in confusion when I snag a towel off the mattress before leading her into the bathroom. I can’t lie. The disappointment fueling her groan swells my chest. She can’t deny me, but part of that is because she doesn’t want to deny me.
Want and can’t are two very different things.
“Let me,” I request when Demi commences unbuttoning the buttons on her dress.
I switched on the faucet.
She knows where I’m going with this.
While staring into her eyes, I undo the top four buttons on her dress before pulling it over her head. A ghost-like grin curves my lips when she can’t hold back her smile at my caveman ways. The buttons in her dress go to the hem, so I could have removed it with ease if I had an ounce of patience. That is something I’ll never have when it comes to Demi.
