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Chapter 1
Ezra
Being from one of the wealthiest families in America, you’d think that I’d be more spoiled than I am. Now hear me out. Yes, I know I can have anything I could want with a snap of my fingers, but I’ve made it a point to not do that.
I try to actually work for the things I want.
So I don’t mind so much that Rosalind Sweeney has made us work to earn her trust back. Anything worth having is worth working for.
And goddamn, she is worth working for. I would do just about anything for her, anything to see her smile, to make her laugh, to make her feel safe and cherished and loved.
My heart rate picks up as I think that word.Love.But it’s becoming more and more apparent to me that is exactly what this is, this feeling that aches in my chest, that makes me want to spend every spare moment I can with her.
Which might be why I’m a little peeved that I haven’t seen her in two days.
I miss her.
So fucking much and it’s only been two days.
I shake away the thought and focus on my list of tasks that I need to get done. I could pay someone to do all these things, but since I enjoy taking care of the people I care about, there’s a particular pleasure in stocking the house we’ll be staying at, picking out the groceries, getting the things I know my girl likes.
I put fresh sheets on all the beds, taking special care in the room Rosalind is going to stay in, setting up the en suite with all the products she loves. True, she’ll bring all the stuff she needs with her, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to provide for her.
I’ve just placed the last throw pillow on her bed when my phone vibrates. I answer without looking at the screen, already knowing who’s on the other line. “Yes?”
“That’s how you answer the phone, Carmichael? Really?” My heart beats double time in my chest and my palms are suddenly sweaty. This is my default response when Rosalind is near me. Hearing her voice now after two days apparently results in the same reaction.
“Ro?”
She laughs, and my dick hardens to a half chub. “Yes, it’s me. Wow, you’re really not happy to hear from me, are you?”
“No! No,” I’m quick to protest. ‘ “No, god, I’m happy to hear from you. So happy. I just thought you were Fielder, calling to check on my progress.”
There’s a rustling sound on the other end of the line and I get the image of her stretched out on her bed while she’s talking to me. She’s probably wearing a pair of those tiny sleep shorts and tank top she likes to lounge around in. It’s pure torture being around her, with all that silky skin on display, when she’s made it clear we still have some work to do to earn her trust again.
I really want that trust. Once I have it, I’ll feel a hell of a lot better about taking her to bed, burying my face between her thighs and watching her fall apart on my tongue. And now my half chub is a full erection. I grip the base through my jeans, adjusting to get some relief, but it doesn’t help. It never does.
“Ezra?”
I blink, realizing while I’ve been thinking about fucking my girl, she’s been busy chatting away.
“Huh? Sorry. What did you say?”Brilliant, Carmichael. Really fucking stellar conversation.
She laughs again. “What are you doing that has you so distracted, Ez?”
I look around the room that she’ll be staying in, taking in every item that I carefully picked with her in mind. Suddenly, I feel embarrassed by it. It’s ridiculous, I know. She would be nothing but grateful, but something in me, some vulnerable part, doesn’t want her to know I decorated this room for her, because if she hates it, it might kill me.
I blow out a breath. “Just errands.” I lift a hand and encompass the room at large, even though she can’t see me. “Just running errands. Getting my ducks in a row and all that before we disappear for two weeks.”
She hums in her throat like she’s not entirely sure she believes me, but then she sighs. That tiny noise has my spidey sense tingling. “What’s wrong, Ro?”
I can practically hear her shaking her head. “Nothing, I just… I forgot how hard it can be to live with my mom. Months away from her and I forgot what it’s like, you know?”
The truth is, I don’t know. Ro doesn’t talk much about her mother or her father, not that I can blame her on that one. The only family member she mentions with any regularity is her sister, Desdemona. We met her in London over spring break, and thankfully, once she got past the initial shock of the four of us wanting to be with her little sister, she’d warmed up to us.
Thank god, too, because if Desi had protested even one iota, I’m pretty sure Rosalind wouldn’t be working toward forgiving us.
My understanding of my girl’s relationship with her mother is that it’sstrained. That Ro works hard to make up for something that she had no control over and that her mother is a nagging shrew.
