Page 68 of Watched

“You—you bought beds…for the twins?”

I nod, lifting my hand to cup his cheek and gently press my lips to his. So fucking soft; I love his lips.

My phone vibrates on the nightstand, and I plant sloppy kisses across his face as I stand.

“You’re like a dog when you do that,” he grumbles, wiping his face with his sleeve.

I answer Dad’s call and put it to my ear. “What’s up?” Rome gives a look of disgust as he wipes his cheeks, and I point to his phone mouthing the word ‘sick’.

“Josephine Wheeler was found dead at a motel in Sacramento an hour ago.”

My lip’s part to speak, but I head to the balcony door and step outside, closing it behind me. “Who did it?”

“It was a suicide.”

“Was it?”

“Hard to tell. I’ll send you the photos, but the blood splatter and body seem aligned with a suicide.”

“That can be staged.”

“I’ve sent them to Blade as well, and he’s looking at them. I’m currently on site at the church restoration in France until tomorrow, so family meeting at your house tomorrow night at 6. Don’t be late.”

“Understood.” I pull the phone away and hang up.

Josephine may have conspired against the others, and they had a reason to kill her. Maybe guilt got the better of her?

Something isn’t sitting right.

I need a fucking cigarette.

As I massage my thumbs harder into the bottom of Rome’s foot, he groans, trying to pull it away when I hit a knot the size of a fucking golf ball.

Much to my reluctance, he went to training. If he doesn’t follow every rule, it’s as though he drowns in guilt. I say fuck that. He needs to prioritise himself for once. On the other hand, though, his drive for success is incredibly inspirational.

“How long have you had this?” I ask as we sit on the sofa, watching a movie. Indie and Kilah lay on the mattress on the floor and look at Rome when he doesn’t answer.

“It comes and goes,” he mumbles, glancing at his sisters. “Watch the movie.”

They snicker and turn their attention back to the television.

Their beds were delivered and we arranged them so they had enough room to walk between them. It was entertaining, listening to the twins argue about what screw went where. I tried to mediate the disagreement like I’m sure Rome would have, but they’re intense when arguing their point. Insults were thrown, and horrific language was used that made me question my knowledge of profanities.

I’ll admit, I was a little terrified. I took myself downstairs and called Rome, knowing he was on his way home. He laughed at me. Laughed. Like I wasn’t about to get a screwdriver thrown at my head. Although, that may have been partially my fault, because I was trying to inform them of the instructions they claimed they didn’t need.

I lightly try to work the knotted muscle, catching Rome’s phone screen light his face in my peripheral. He lifts it closer, like he’s trying to hide something.

Is this motherfucker texting other people?

He groans when I dig my thumb in, rubbing the knot harder. Wanting to snatch the phone from his hand, I remove his feet from my lap. He immediately locks the phone when I round the back of the sofa.

“Restroom,” I chirp and kiss his cheek as I pass to head upstairs.

I close his bedroom door and fish out my shadow phone from the pocket of my jacket hung in his closet. It stays blank for less than a minute before activity appears. My brows jerk up at his search.

Caring for your stalker.

A wide grin tugs at my lips. Although I already knew he was starting to care for me, this shit makes me fucking giddy. I watch his curiosity spike, which leads him to spend longer on certain articles.