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He pulled the sheet back over them and faced her, sliding a hand under his side of the pillow to prop up his head. He didn’t answer her right away.
“There are a lot of people who want that.”
She mirrored him, their faces inches apart. “I don’t.”
“Me neither,” he replied. He draped his top arm over her waist, his body heavy with fatigue. “Would you like to meet my parents?”
“Yeah,” she whispered.
He shut his eyes. “They’re coming next week. From London. I want them to meet you,” he murmured, and then he fell asleep.
Eight
Elias was still sleeping deeply when Bianca awoke the next morning.
She allowed herself a few minutes to look at the way his back curved as he lay on his side, and the way his hand lay slack and open beside him, the pads of his palm slightly calloused. She guessed the callouses were from some kind of physical training he did, possibly for the FBI, but she wondered exactly how he got them. Did he lift weights? For some reason, she kept picturing obstacle courses and training grounds where people in gray sweats climbed ropes and scrambled over platforms, but she had no idea what it took to do what he did.
She wanted to touch his face and wake him to ask him a million questions, but she didn’t. It was obvious he needed to sleep. She eased out of the bed as stealthily as she could and slipped on a robe silently. But before she made it out the door, she heard him call for her.
“Come ‘mere,” he said. He let his hand flop out towards her.
She came to the edge of the bed and sat down next to him. “Sorry I woke you,” she said, still tying the front of her silk robe. “You’re a light sleeper.”
“What are you doing?” he complained, tugging on the ties of her robe. “Back in bed.”
Elias rolled her down next to him for some giggly, sleepy cuddling that turned into sweet and gentle morning sex. When he was finally fully awake, she tried to get out of bed again, but he pulled her back down.
“We still have to talk about yesterday,” he said seriously.
She tried not to roll her eyes. She’d thought they were past this. “I know, I know. You told me not to get in—"
“You went with Maxwell Ronson to Eden Ronson’s apartment,” he said, interrupting her forcefully.
She nodded, waiting for a question. When she realized there wasn’t going to be one, she realized that he must be using some kind of interrogation tactic on her. She had nothing to hide, though. What she’d done may have broken the agreement she’d made with Elias to stay away from his case, but going to Eden’s apartment wasn’t illegal.
“House still hadn’t heard from Eden and he was really upset,” she said, eager to explain the entire situation to him. “His dad won’t return his calls, his mom has always been clueless and detached, and I couldn’t tell him what I saw on the security footage you showed me, so I had him meet me there. I have Eden’s spare key and her security code, and House doesn’t. I thought it was going to be fine, that a visit there might clear everything up. I hoped maybe we’d see that she’d been back to her apartment and gotten her things, maybe she’d even left a note before checking into rehab like you suggested, but instead, her place had been broken into. You have to look into it now, Elias,” she said, her eyes pleading. “Or the police. The police are looking into it now, right?”
He shook his head, his expression closed. “There was no robbery.”
Bianca stared at him as the realization dawned on her. “Youdid that. You searched her place?”
Elias didn’t nod, didn’t answer in the affirmative, but there was a shift in his eyes that told her that he had. “The police were alerted as soon as someone entered the apartment.” He leaned closer to her, his expression darkening. “Why are you helping Maxwell Ronson?”
“Wait, is this aboutHouse?” she asked, her voice sliding up an octave.
Elias scrubbed his face with his hands, growling with frustration behind them. When he dropped his hands again, he was glaring at her.
It didn’t sink in right away because what he seemed to be implying was so far from the truth that she didn’t immediately see what he meant.
“Are you seriously angry with me because I’m friends with him?” she stood up and grabbed her robe. He swung his legs out of bed, furious.
“Is it just friendship?” he asked. “There’s no other reason you’re doing these favors for him?”
Bianca was so shocked all she could do was stand there, staring at him. Her shock gave way to insult as he continued to wait for an answer. She didn’t even know where to begin. “I don’t believe you,” she said, sweeping past him. “I think you should go home.”
He caught her arm before she could leave the room. “Bianca, you have to say it. Is there some other reason you’re helping Ronson?”
“No, there’s no other reason. He’s my friend, he’s worried about his sister, and I’m not allowed to tell him that their dad knows where she is,” she said, her voice low with anger. She tore her arm out of his grip. “And I asked you to leave.”
