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Ella looks at me like I’m crazy. “Round three?”
“Well, we both have to go clean up anyway… so we might as well do it together… And if we’re going to be in the shower anyway…”
“Aren’t you worn out?” she asks.
I kiss her lips a final time and then get up, offering her my hand.
“Of you? I don’t think so. I think that’s impossible.”
She smiles wryly and then takes my hand, letting me pull her up.
“You’re crazy.”
“If you say so.”
I swat her on the ass and she laughs, hurrying toward the bedroom door.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
ELLA
I can hear Keir shouting from all the way down the hall. Even though he’s in his bedroom with the door closed, there’s no mistaking the steady flow of profanity echoing down the corridor.
I’m just thankful that Isla is out shopping with her aunt. She would definitely be stressing about her dad’s bad mood if she could hear him right now.
Heck, I’m stressed about it, and I don’t even know who is on the other end of the line.
Well, I don’t knowyet.
But I’m creeping down the hallway toward his door and it’s becoming much easier to eavesdrop now that I’m getting closer to the source of all the yelling.
I mean, is it technically eavesdropping if I can hear him through the whole penthouse?
Whatever.
I’m the one who has to deal with his shitty mood later, so I think it’s only fair that I get to know who ruined his mood in the first place.
“Go fuck yourself, James,” Keir snarls from the other side of the door. “You’re not going to fucking talk about her like that.”
Okay, so he’s talking to his brother. And James is most likely talking about me. Judging from Keir’s side of the conversation, I’m guessing James isn’t saying how much he enjoys my company.
“I already told you why I can’t go to your fundraiser,” he continues. “First of all, I don’t want to go. Second, I made plans with my daughter and Ella, and I’d rather spend time with the two of them than play cheerleader for your fucking campaign. You’ll survive without me. There will be other fundraisers.”
Hearing him say he wants to spend time with me—even if it’s in the middle of a rant—makes my stomach feel a little fluttery. Keir has said more than once that he doesn’t want a relationship with me, but then he goes and says how much he wants to spend time with me.
I don’t know what to believe, but it’s still nice to hear.
“Don’t fucking threaten me, James.” That fluttery feeling evaporates in point-five seconds when I hear that low, dangerous rumble in Keir’s voice. “Yeah, and I’m telling you to fuck off. Goodbye.”
I jump when I hear him hang up the phone, then sprint back to my room just before he bursts out into the hallway.
“Ella? Are you here?”
Why does it always feel like I’m in trouble whenever he yells my name like that?
“I’m here,” I answer, peeking back out of my own bedroom as if I’ve been in here the entire time. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Not really.”
