Things are looking up.
Ready for a shower and some sleep, I walk into the tiny bathroom. I wonder who, exactly, Rome is? He’s intense. He seemed so angry that I had bruises on my ribs that, at first, I thought he was pissed atme.But he wasn’t. I don’t know if anyone has ever been mad on my behalf before. Maybe Iris, but she’d never speak up to my father for treating me badly. No one in that house is that brave.
“How did you get the bruises?”
“I was mugged this morning. Got a little roughed up, but I’m okay.”
“Are you in pain?”
“No, I?—”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Every word, despite the fury in his tone, has my temperature spiking even now. Why was he so angry?
Should I have been scared of him? I’ve seen men like him before. Powerful. Formidable. Yet my injuries prompted his ire. Honestly, Rome’s indignation gave me the warm and fuzzies.
Also, he’s hot as fuck. Holy blue eyes, Batman. Combined with the olive skin and dark hair, and I might have been drooling.
Not to mention, the tattoos make my core pulse.
God, I’d like to seeallof the tattoos. Obviously, they run down his arms. Does he have them on his chest? His back? I want to know.
“You probably shouldn’t try to picture the customers naked,” I say as I turn on the water in the shower and get my night clothes ready.
Yet as I step under the stream, still wearing the flip-flops because this tub doesn’t look clean at all, I can’t help but think of the handsome stranger and wonder …why did he care?
Eight
ROME
Standing in the shadows, I watch the light in the first-floor room that Lulu disappeared into. It’s a wonder my teeth don’t break from clenching my jaw so fucking hard.
She walked here, more than a mile from my club.
Thismotel, if you can even call it that, is seedy as fuck and in the worst part of town.
It would have shocked me if shehadn’t gottenmugged, now that I know where she’s staying.
But she won’t be staying there long.
I want to know everything there is to know about my little firefly.
I press my phone to my ear.
“Hey, boss,” Luke says.
“I need you to bring me my car,” I tell him and give him the name of the motel.
“What the fuck are you doing there?” he demands. “Are you by yourself? Jesus, Rome?—”
“Just bring the car.” I cut off the call and slip the phone back into my pocket.
If she’s staying here, she won’t be doing it unprotected. No one’s ever going to touch her in anger again. The mere thought of the bruises on her precious skin makes my blood heat. I want someone to pay for them with their blood. And I want to march into that room and make her leave with me, take her back to my place, and keep her safe.
And I will. But not quite yet.
Less than ten minutes later, Luke pulls into the parking lot, and I meet him as he shoves out of the vehicle.
