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“Reese, I—”
“Shh, Liv. You should try and get some sleep.”
“Yeah.”
I don’t want to sleep. I want to talk about us. About the way he makes me feel. About what happened out at the Rock. But as his hand drifts up and down my spine, my eyes grow impossibly heavy.
And, lying here in Reese’s arms, sleep finally claims me.
* * *
The bright morning sun greets me as I peel my eyes open, but I wince with pain. Everything hurts. My cheekbone and jaw. My throat where Dale choked me.
But nothing hurts as much as realising Reese is gone, his side of the bed already cold.
I’m not surprised—he couldn’t risk staying or us being discovered. But it still stings.
“Olivia?” Fiona calls from beyond my door.
“I’m awake.”
She peeks inside. “How are you feeling?”
“It hurts.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Slipping inside, she comes and sits on the edge of the bed, tracing her fingers over my injuries. “Gosh, I want to drive over to Huxton and teach that young man a lesson.”
“I’m fi—”
“Don’t you dare say you’re fine. You were sexually assaulted, Olivia. If Oakley and the boys hadn’t gotten to you in time, we’d be having a very different conversation.”
“I know. Is Oakley back?”
Her expression drops. “No. But Elliot called your father. They’ve got him contained at the Chapel.”
“Contained? What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that they know not to let him leave until your father has paid Mr. Starling a visit.”
The knot in my stomach tightens.
“What will happen to him?” I ask.
“Dale Starling is a predator, Olivia.” Her expression darkens. “And your father will make sure he’s dealt with accordingly.”
But not through the usual channels. Because the Beckworths and the Whitfield-Browns and the Eatons and Ashworths don’t handle things like normal people. They use their connections, their money and power. And I know my father is about to deliver a whole world of hurt to Dale and his father’s doorstep.
“Can I get you anything?” she asks, stroking the hair out of my face. “A drink? Something to eat?”
“Coffee, maybe.”
“Of course. Reese is downstairs trying to make himself useful. I’m meeting a friend for coffee soon, so I’ll ask him to bring you one up and stay with you until I get back. I know he’ll never admit it, but I think he’s worried.”
“He is?” The words slip out, but hearing her say that makes me all warm inside.
Fiona smiles. “Of course he is, Olivia,” she says. “You’re family.”
Family.
