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She wavers in place, skeptical of my sudden generosity. Like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Y-you’re not going to lock me in there, are you?”
I almost smile. “No, Taylor. I’m not gonna lock you in there.”
But goddamn, I wish I could bring myself to do it. It would make everything so much simpler.
23
ILARION
She nods once and heads into the bathroom. There’s blood plastered on the backs of her legs. I find myself watching her until she disappears through the door.
Then I leave the room—only to find Mila waiting for me just outside the door.
“What—?”
“You knocked up the wrong sister?” She gapes at me in disbelief. “How the ever-loving fuck didthathappen?”
I shrug her off. “I don’t have time for this. Get me something that Taylor can wear.”
Mila doesn’t move. I grit my teeth. I know that bulldog set in her face—she wants answers and she wants themnow.
But she knows as well as I do that this is not the right setting. The tension ripples through her jaw before she relents. “There’s a robe in the bathroom she can wear.”
“She’s not here for a spa treatment,” I growl. “Something she can wear outside. We’re going to be taking a little field trip.”
Mila raises her eyebrows incredulously. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“Of course not. But she wants to see her mother.”
“And?” Mila asks. “You can’t say no to her, is that it?”
I rake a weary hand through my hair. “It doesn’t look like Fiona Theron is going to make it to sunrise,” I tell her. “She might as well see her daughter before she goes.”
The last of Mila’s tenacity fades away. “Fuck. Does she know?”
“No. Not yet.”
She nods. “I have some clothes here. I’ll get her something.”
She disappears upstairs. As soon as I step back into the bedroom, I hear the shower turn off. I’m checking Dima’s messages on my phone when the bathroom door swings open and Taylor’s head pops out.
“What’s the ETA on those clothes?” She’s half-hidden by the door, but I can see a bare shoulder and the edge of a white terry cloth towel wrapped around her torso. Her hair hangs down in dark, wet ringlets.
A series of memories flash through my head rapid-fire.
Her hair plastered to her throat by the rain.
The taste of her lips.
The vibration of her moans.
I shake my head and drag myself forcibly back to the present. “Mila will bring them down momentarily.”
Her face screws up. “I’m borrowing Mila’s clothes?”
“Unless you’d rather dress in one of the maid’s spare uniforms, that’s your only option.”
“Honestly, that might be better.”
