Silence. And then Travis said, “She’s hot though.” He chuckled, and Maximus soon joined in, their laughter fading as Loren reached the third-floor landing.
She barricaded herself in her room, dragging an armchair across the floor so she could prop it up under the door handle. She knew it would do nothing to keep people like them out, but it made her feel a little better as she collapsed on the bed, wrapped her arms around her knees, and cried.
—
It was almost Witching Hour by the time the snarl of Darien’s car carried through the house to where Loren was lying on the bed, cradling her cracked phone in her hands.
She couldn’t figure out how to reply to the twelve unanswered messages she’d received, all of which were from Dallas. It killed Loren to know her sister was worried about her, especially after Sabrine’s abduction. Dallas had started jumping to conclusions after the sixth message had gone through without a reply.
You’re a bitch, you know that?
But seriously, I really am worried about you.
Are you working late at Mordred and Penny’s? Should I call them?
Helloooooooo?! Anybody there?
I thought you would’ve answered by now, considering everything that happened with Sab…
If you don’t answer me in ten, I’m calling City Rescue.
Nine minutes had passed since that last message. And as Loren heard the front door open three floors below, she typed up a reply.
Hey, Dal. Sorry I took so long to answer you. I’m fine, I promise, so don’t freak out!... But I’m staying at someone’s house this weekend. It isn’t safe to tell you everything over the phone, but I PROMISE I’m fine. You don’t need to worry. I’ll explain everything when I see you on Monday.
A bubble to indicate that she was typing popped up a second after Loren had sent her message.
You swear you’re okay?Dallas wrote.
I promise.
Two minutes passed. And then Dallas said,Okay.
Not knowing what might happen between now and Monday, Loren typed up one more message—just in case.
Love you,she said.The only words that mattered.
She hit send just as the handle on the door to her suite turned. The feet of the armchair she’d propped up against it groaned across the floor as the door swung open.
The hallway light gleamed off Darien’s gelled hair as he appeared in the doorframe, looking somewhat amused by her flimsy attempt at barricading herself inside the room. “What’s the chair for?” A smile flirted with his mouth.
“You know damn well what it’s for.” Although she’d willed her voice to come out strong, it sounded as broken and pathetic as she felt. What an awful week she’d had. “And you might want to consider knocking next time. What would you have done if I had no clothes on or something?”
Amusement danced in his eyes, but he thankfully said nothing regarding the question she’d intended to be rhetorical—the question that had her cheeks blazing with embarrassment. She never kept her stupid mouth shut when it mattered.
Darien’s gaze swept over her gray cotton pajama set. Screen-printed overtop each of her breasts was a halved avocado, and across the butt in block letters read the phraseKiss My Hass—last year’s Yuletide present from the pun-loving Dallas. Before Loren could whip her phone at Darien’s face for allowing his gaze to linger too long on her breasts—herbralessbreasts—she realized what he was really staring at was the arm that was slung across her midsection.
And the serpent-entwined rod on the inside of her left forearm—burning the steady vermilion of a medical emergency, the glow reflecting on the screen-printed avocados.
He frowned. “Did you leave this room at all while I was gone?”
“Sort of,” she mumbled, shifting her arms to cover her chest anyway. “I mean, if you can count the three minutes it took for your cohorts to let me know I’m not welcome here.”
She was surprised to see a glint of anger in his eyes. “What did they do?”
“I got hungry, so I thought I would find something to eat. I introduced myself, and your girlfriend let me know what she thought of me with a few unkind words and a steak knife.”
Darien leaned against the doorjamb. “Lace?”
