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“Oh, so now you still love me?” She put the coffee pot back onto the holder. “Do you love Katia too? Is this what monogamy means to the workborn?”
“Do you know how hard it is to see you here, whispering with my brother, crawling into his room every night? You left me, remember? You left me to be with another man.”
“No, you left me because the Randolphs needed an heir, and you couldn’t handle it.”
“You left me for your family. It seems you ran away from them in the end anyway. If you cared so damn much about your family, then why haven’t you gone back now that you’ve been cleared?”
“That’s between me and my friends.”
“Dixon knows?” He shook his head. “You do so love your secrets.”
“And you do so love your women. You’re just like the highborn. You just don’t want to admit it. At least the senator and I didn’t lie to ourselves or to one another. Will you lie to Katia when she gets back?”
He retreated from the kitchen and pulled open the locker.
“Will you?” she shouted.
“Relationships aren’t supposed to be so damn hard!”
“What relationship? The relationship between you and Dixon? Or the one between you and Katia? Because you and I don’t have a relationship, Tristan. We never did, and we never will.”
Glass clinked against his mug. Lila smelled whiskey from across the room, whiskey Tristan took into the bathroom.
The door slammed shut.
Water gushed through the pipes as the shower turned on.
Chapter 21
Lila twisted and turned beside Dixon while the walls caught the neon light that streamed through the closed window. As usual, he’d cranked up the heater, leaving the room hot and stuffy, the sheets damp underneath her back. The fabric scratched at her skin, and her shirt wrapped around her belly. The moans and groans next door sounded pleasant, at least for the occupants.
Lila finally kicked the sheets away, her head tilting to the dozing man beside her. She knew she should sleep on the couch. If she didn’t go now, Dixon wouldn’t get any sleep either.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
She gripped the sheets between her fingers, squeezing. Katia and Tristan had been going at it for hours, harder than they’d gone at it before.
“Asshole,” she muttered, rolling to face the wall. She snatched her palm from the bedside table and checked the display, the light far too bright in the dark room. Her father had still not replied to her message.
Neither had Max.
Behind her, the light switched on with a soft click. Dixon grabbed her shoulder, rolling he
r onto her back.
“Sorry.”
Dixon yawned and wiped the sleep from his eyes. Propping his head up with his arm, he lay beside her, his expectant expression unsettling. He prodded her in the ribs.
“What?”
He pointed to his mouth.
“You’re hungry? I could heat up something for you.”
Dixon rolled his eyes. He pointed to his mouth again.
“I’ll go sleep on the couch. I’m keeping you awake, and I have work to do, anyway.”
