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“Why didn’t you tell me you’re the main suspect?”
He sighs, rubbing his tired eyes. “I wasn’t keeping it a secret, Rue.” He looks at me. “You know that you were working with the police, right?”
I nod.
“Well, you already knew and didn’t believe it. Said you had a sixth sense about people and that I was innocent.”
I bite my lip, wishing I could corroborate the story somehow.
“Look, it’s not something I like thinking about. I’m sorry for not telling you.”
My muscles relax a fraction.
He looks remorseful—I’m just not sure I can trust him. Nathan is adamant that Valen is a bad guy, but I have yet to see it. He steps closer, but stops when I hold my hand up.
“You scared of me now, Rue?”
I don’t understand the flash of guilt I feel. I have every right to be cautious. But I can’t deny that if Valen wanted to hurt me, he’s had ample opportunity to do it.
“I’m scared of everything right now,” I admit, rubbing my hands up and down my arms.
He curses and walks over to me, pulling me into his arms, ignoring my yelp of surprise. I breathe him in, and again, that sense of familiarity fills me and calms my racing heart. Right or wrong, I want to trust this man.
“I’m such an asshole. I don’t want to make things harder for you, but I can’t walk away either. You forgot me once already. I can’t—” He shakes his head.
I tip my head back and look up at him. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. Just let me sit with you for a little while. I don’t want to go back to my place.”
Considering the nights are the worst, I agree. I won’t beat myself up over it. The truth is, if someone wants to kill me, they’ll find a way to make it happen, regardless of the cops doing random drive-bys.
“Stay.”
He dips his head and kisses me, and despite my reservations, I don’t fight him. He pulls back—before I lose my mind and start dry-humping him—and walks back over to the bags. He picks them up and carries them into the kitchen.
I follow behind him, my eyes glued to his ass. It’s a travesty that I could forget it. I stand in the doorway, watching as he puts everything away for me. Again, I’m struck by how he knows my house better than I do. He seems to know exactly where everything goes, and I have to open three or four cupboards before I find the right one.
“What are you thinking about over there?”
“How you know my kitchen so well.”
He stops and looks up at me. “I’ve spent time here with you, though mostly we stayed at my house because it’s more private.”
“Private?” I huff out a laugh. “I’m not sure what that even is anymore. Since all this happened, it seems like the media has taken possession of my life.”
“I have my own share of issues with the press. I wish I could say it gets easier, but it doesn’t. They are relentless, but you learn to live with it eventually.”
I frown at that as a thought occurs to me. “We haven’t been photographed together.” It’s a statement, not a question. If the press had linked me to a gorgeous billionaire, especially if he’s the main suspect, they would be going insane.
“We kept our relationship quiet. I was already a suspect when I first met you. You were helping the police catch a killer, and I don’t want to ever stand in your way. It would have been classified as a conflict of interest or?—”
“Or people would wonder if you were getting close to me just to throw the cops off the scent.” I rub my eyes, feeling tired. As if having no memory isn’t stressful enough, I have to deal with this shit too.
“You need some more rest. You didn’t get much last night.”
“And whose fault is that?”
He grins unrepentantly.
