My head snaps back again. “What do you mean?”
“She has insomnia. She stays awake for days at a time, and then she’ll just crash and sleep for hours without getting up,” Charlotte explains. “We won’t be able to wake her.”
The car stops out front of the Royal Flush. And as much as I want to tell them I’m taking Evie home—to my home because that’s where I want to keep her—I don’t. That would cause issues I don’t want to deal with right now. The main one being Louie. The guy just got hitched. He’ll be busy consummating his new marriage all night. And me? I’ll be coming up with a plan to keep the maid of honor.
“It’s okay,” I tell Charlotte as I step out of the car. I open the back door, unbuckle Evie’s belt, and scoop her into my arms. “I’ve got her.”
It’s not the first time I’ve had her body pressed against mine. But, fuck, does it feel good.
“Are you sure?” Charlotte asks me.
I nod. “Lead the way. Where is her room?” I’m going to assume it’s on the top floor, right next to Louie’s penthouse. That’s where the crazy, obsessed fucker would have put Charlotte.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, we’re riding the elevator up to the top floor before Charlotte opens the door to the penthouse suite rightnext to Louie’s. I set Evie on the bed and watch as Charlotte removes her friend’s boots and then covers her with a blanket.
I don’t want to leave, but it’s easier if I don’t have to answer questions. I walk out, get into the lift, and as soon as I’m sure Louie and Charlotte are inside his penthouse, I step into the hall and tap my all-access card against the door. I walk in and make myself comfortable in the chair opposite Evie’s bed.
I take in every single feature of her face. She’s still wearing makeup. So I stand and make my way into the bathroom. Digging through the huge fucking cosmetic bag until I find wipes. I pull out a few, sit on the edge of the bed, carefully brush her hair away from her cheek, and start wiping at the makeup. I want to see the real her without anything covering her up.
It takes a few of the disposable wipes to get it all off, and she doesn’t even stir as I go about cleaning her face. Odd. I thought for sure she’d wake up.
I toss the used wipes into the trash bin in the bathroom before I pull my phone out and snap a photo of her. This is how I want to see her. Bare.
She’s even more fucking breathtaking. Little freckles dot her nose, her cheeks have a natural shade of pink to them, and those lips… Fucking hell, pink, plump. I want to taste them.
Forcing myself to sit back down, I glance at my screen and message Paz.
Me:
Change of plans. We’re sticking around. Get my mother out of town. I might want to use the house and don’t need her there.
I love my mother. She had a rough few years after my father found us. I believe my father loved her, though. That’s why he kept her locked up in that house. I get it now. He didn’t want anything to happen to her, and the safest place for her to be was captive.
But I saw how that same captivity broke my mother. It’s not something I’d ever want to see happen to another woman I care about. Which is why I’m not grabbing Evie and walking out of here with her in my arms.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I tear my eyes away from her sleeping form again.
Paz:
Sure thing. You need anything tonight?
Me:
I’m good.
Pocketing my phone, I go back to staring at my future. It hits me that I don’t know much about this woman, other than the fact that she’s from a small, fucking nowhere town and she owns a dress shop.
I bend and snatch up Evie’s bag from the floor where Charlotte left it, digging through the contents until my hand brushes across her ID. I tug it out and read the name there. Evie Carter.
“Who are you, Evie Carter?” I ask aloud.
Next, I grab her phone and hold it to her face to unlock it. The first thing I do is open her social media accounts and scroll through them. There are tons of pictures of her with her friends, but none of her with other men. Which is fucking good. I don’t need to be flying to the fucking south to kill anyone tonight.
Then I open her emails, making sure not to read any that she hasn’t already opened. Most of them are from a girl named Amy, and they’re all about her store. Pretty mundane stuff.
I don’t get it. How can someone so fucking remarkable lead such a normal life?
I’ve been awake all night, waiting for Evie to open her eyes. When I check my watch, I see that it’s alittle after nine in the morning. Why the fuck isn’t she awake yet?
