Marina hands me a cup of coffee, and I can’t even form words until I take a deep whiff. “You are a godsend.”
“I,” she says on a yawn, “am hungover. That party last night was off the hook.”
Griff snags his glasses, pours himself a cup of coffee, and heads for the bath off the main room of the suite. “I need to shave. Sloane? When room service knocks, come get me. Don’t answer the bell—either of you.”
He doesn’t shut the door completely, and Marina takes a seat next to me on the couch. “So?” she whispers. “Did the two of you…?”
“No!” The water’s running, and we’re far enough away that I don’tthinkGriff’s glasses will pick up what we’re saying, but I still keep my voice as low as possible. “He held me. That’s it. You know I don’t…do that sort of thing.”
“Why not?” Marina’s bloodshot green eyes tell me exactly how much fun she had last night at the party, and I arch my brows. She wouldn’t…
“You didn’t bring anyone back here, did you?”
With a snort, she shakes her head. “As if Mr. British Stick-in-the-Mud would have let me.” At my horrified expression, she starts to roll her eyes, then winces. “Dammit. I need at least another couple of ibuprofen. But Sloane, even if I’d wanted to, I wouldn’t have actually done it. Not with someone after you.” Scooting closer, she drapes her arm around my shoulders. “You come first, sweetie. Always.”
I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding, set the china cup down and wrap my arms around her. “I’m sorry. I’m not myself right now. This whole situation...”
Except it’s not the situation. Not being in danger, anyway. Griff’s right. I can’t let Dimitri and Rodney—or even Max—stop me from trusting everyone for the rest of my life. I made one bad choice when I was eighteen. And since then, every potential friend was someone who could—and would—betray me.
Pulling back, I retrieve my coffee and take a fortifying sip. “Marina? I’ve never hadsex.” My eyes burn, but I won’t let myself cry. “Not…after I escaped Dimitri. I don’t know if I can.”
She chokes on a sip of her coffee, then lunges for a napkin and holds it against her nose. “Oh, God. I didn’t think…I’m an idiot. We’ve known each other for how long? More than ten years. We’ve never talked about your love life. I should have…I don’t know. Put the pieces together? Or asked. Something. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” The cup rattles in the saucer, and I take a deep breath to try to steady my nerves. I’ve taken more Xanax in the past week than I usually do in a month, and if I’m not careful, I’ll make my tardive dyskinesia even worse right before a show where all eyes—and all cameras—are on me. “I didn’t let anyone get close to me. I thought it was better that way. But I’m tired of being alone. Of not trusting anyone.”
Marina rests her hand on my thigh and gives it a quick squeeze before lowering her voice to a whisper. “Does Griff know?”
“I told him last night. After I freaked out on him for grabbing my ass.” My cheeks flush hot, and I cast a quick glance at the bathroom. I’m about to tell her this fake relationship isn’t so fake anymore when the suite’s bell rings, saving me from more “girl talk.”
It feels good to trust someone. To confide in Marina. But it’s also harder than I thought it would be, and the distraction of breakfast is exactly what I need.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sloane
When I emerge from the bedroom, Griff is down on one knee strapping the knife to his calf. He smiles, but something’s off.
“What is it?” I tug at the sleeves of the loose black dress and chew on my lower lip. Ijusttook a Xanax, but it hasn’t kicked in yet, and my anxiety is through the roof.
“You look stunning,” he says as he smooths the leg of his dark gray trousers. “You always look stunning. But—”
“This dress doesn’t look like me?” I laugh, and some of the tension gathered between my shoulders fades away. “I hate it. The shoes too. But I can’t wear anything that might leave a single mark on my skin.”
Griff taps the temple of his glasses, then frowns. “No marks?”
“No bra, only the smoothest panties on the market, no socks, nothing with elastic…” I wave my hand up and down my body. “I’ll have at least six outfit changes for the show this afternoon. I won’t see what they are until I get down there, but wardrobe could put me in anything from a skimpy negligée to a bathing suit to a ball gown. Since I don’t know what parts of me are going to be on full display, I can’t have any seams pressing against my skin. Those marks can take up to an hour to fade. Hence, thisthing. I could cut a hole in a pillow case and feel more stylish.”
He slides his right arm around my waist—gently, so he won’t crease the ultra-soft dress to my skin—and up close, he smells so good. A feeling I think might be arousal warms me from the inside out, and I sigh.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” A smile tugs at my lips when he starts to argue with me, and I kiss him. Both to silence his protests and because I want to. It’s nothing compared to the heat of last night’s make-out session. Just a little flick of my tongue against his lips, but the half moan, half growl he makes? It sends goosebumps racing over my skin. “I like this. When you hold me, I feel safe.”
“Youaresafe with me.” The rough edge to his voice comforts me even more, though he can’t promise me safety and he knows it.
Change the subject. Otherwise, you’re going to end up having a panic attack before you leave the room.
“How do your glasses work?” At his furrowed brow, I add, “You tapped the temple when I came into the room. Does that turn them on?”
