Without allowing myself the chance to talk myself out of it, I take Brielle’s hand. I keep it hidden beside my thigh as I stroke her knuckles.
“Two minutes. Follow me,” I command, squeezing her fingers once before releasing them.
I don’t wait for her to reply before leaving her in the shadows and strolling across the VIP floor. Guilt festers as I scold myself for not staying to ensure everyone gets back to the hotel in one piece. They’re grown adults, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t take that as an excuse to abandon them.
My invite to join them tonight was made out of pity. If I hadn’t been sulking in the hotel bar at the same time Finn was passing by, I’m positive nobody would have sought me out because they don’t need a babysitter. That should be enough to convince me that I’m making the right decision choosing myself this time.
My pace slows before stopping entirely. The guard in front of the stairs down to the main floor eyes me curiously, and I scowl, shaking my head. I can hear the howls and cheers from behind me and grit my teeth.
I’m not expecting someone to touch me any more than I am to be shoved forward.
Brielle’s frown is the first thing I see when I catch myself and turn to stare bewilderedly over my shoulder. The mess of bright curls sticking out around her face is next, and I reach up to brush a few back behind her ear before I can stop myself. Her eyestwinkle when she realizes what I’m doing, the softest smile I’ve ever seen pulling at her lips.
“Go.” She mouths the simple word, jerking her chin forward.
The risk of getting caught together pushes me into motion. The guard steps aside to make room for us, and I lead the way down the dark stairs. Flashing, coloured lights illuminate a path forward, but it’s hardly enough. I linger at the bottom of the staircase and wait for both of her feet to touch the ground before taking her wrist.
We stick near the wall as we rush through the club. I duck my head to hide my face. It’s doubtful that I’d be the one recognized here, which calms me a bit. I still need to get Brielle out of here quickly, though. Until we’re outside, I won’t be able to realize what I’ve just done.
That’s both terrifying and the most exciting thing I’ve ever experienced.
22
BRIELLE
“Doyou own any clothes that aren’t black or green?” I ramble, tapping my nails against the back window.
The cab is moving far too slowly for how antsy I am. I can’t take the silence any longer. Not while Roman’s sitting not even an inch from me and allowing his thigh to rub against mine every five seconds. We both know that the touches are far from accidental.
He looks at me, the darkness of the back seat hiding a lot of his face. “Does it matter?”
“Not really. I’m just curious.”
“Black to me is pink to you, I assume.”
“I wear more than pink,” I mutter, bouncing my leg.
“Orange, too, from what I remember.”
My throat grows tight. I stare across the seat and pull my hair over my shoulder, feeling the heavy weight of it sticking to the back of my damp neck. “You remember the colours I wear?”
He glances away, staring at the headrest in front of him. His inability to stare at me is answer enough, but I still want to hear him admit it.
“Roman?”
He wets his lips almost angrily before looking back at me. “I remember the colours, the way you had your hair, if you wore heels. The day you came to see Evie, I remember you looking so fucking bright in my house that it felt out of place to have you there. Like I was trapping your light or something. Everything you don’t pay attention to, I fixate on, Brielle.”
“Why?” I breathe.
His hand finds my bare thigh, gripping it tight as he leans across the gap in the seats. The streetlights dance across his features, lighting them up for me. I become fixated on the gleam across his slightly swollen bottom lip.
Dropping his voice to a low, dangerous drawl, he says, “Because you’ve stolen your own special corner of my mind, and I find that I’ve grown to like you there too much to shake you free.”
My breath escapes me in a wild puff as I take that in. I place my hand over his and hold it firmer to my thigh, afraid that he’ll take it away. He doesn’t. Instead, he guides it further, until it disappears beneath the hem of my dress.
“Rome,” I whisper, my muscles tightening in anticipation.
He checks on the cab driver before returning his gaze to me. I hold it without a stitch of fear, too far gone to dare give this opportunity up.
