Page 101 of Watched

Rome stares at me, pointing to a decaying wicker seat across the backyard. I refrain from being a petty child and splashing water from the bird bath onto this nuisance as I pass.

The chair almost snaps beneath my weight, and my lips curl in disgust at the overpowering smell of twenty different fucking flowers lining the garden. I watch them kick the ball back and forth and Rome stretches out, stopping it with his foot.

“That went wide. Tell me why?” he asks.

She looks to her foot. “Um…I dunno.”

“Watch my foot. I’ll kick it how you just did.”

He kicks it back, and it goes left of her. “You kicked it more with your toes,” she guesses.

“Good.” He smiles proudly. “What should I do to have better control?” She bends down, tapping the inside of her foot. “Well done, try again.”

I shouldn’t be jealous of a kid, I know that, but I am, because he’s had that same captivating grin this entire time, and not once has it appeared because of me.

Mrs Parker places a tray on the table between us. “He’s great with Isla, is he not?” I nod, continuing to watch him encourage her and give pointers. “He’s her godfather.”

“What? You’re fucking with me, right?”

“Language.”

“Like yours is any better.”

Taking her tea, she watches them both lovingly. “My daughter Cathy has no siblings. Her husband Mark has a brother, but he’s in the army, stationed in another country. Rome has only known Isla for two years, but he’s incredible with her, and she has a special bond with him. Cathy, Mark, my husband, and I saw that. They asked Rome to be her godfather, and he accepted.”

Rome, this weasel… Her parents and grandmother are all about to hate me.

Chapter thirty-nine

ROME

Given that Rain gifted me £20 million, I should in no way be surprised by this mansion he calls a home. The true reality of how much money he has hit me an hour ago when he took me to a garage and told me to pick a car. McLaren, Ferrari, Bentley—there was an array of options.

He suggested I spend my week off at his house to get out of the city and away from the noise. I was apprehensive to begin with, and I’m even more so now.

“Baby,” he calls from my left.

I pull my eyes away from this lit up royal mansion, noting my bags in his hands. Small white stones crunch under my shoes as I follow up the steps. Blood drips from his gloved hand onto the keypad, trailing down the light stone wall.

“Baby?”

“Hmm.”

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing.” I drag my eyes away from the blood beginning to pool.

“You’re stuttering.” His eyes narrow. “And you’re breathing heavier. Don’t lie to me.”

I can’t tell if it’s because we’re in his territory, the shadows across his face from the sconces lit either side of the door, or that I’ve not fully comprehended that this man has killed someone, but something has me wanting to retreat.

I clear my throat to compose myself. “Is your brother here?”

“Yes,” he says softly, stepping to the door. “He won’t hurt you.”

A faint creak echoes through the mansion. Maybe this isn’t a great idea after all.

The door clicks as I shut it behind me and tip my head back, taking in the intricately detailed ceiling with a grand chandelier lighting the large foyer. Most people relax in their own home, but, as I follow Rain up the right staircase, his body tightens the deeper into the house we venture.