Connor stands from the bed, no longer hard. As he changes pants and underwear quickly, I realize he came too. Ihadn’t even noticed. I was too enamored with my own climax.
“It’s probably just Lily and Loren screwing,” I tell him.
His eyes narrow at me. “I must have fingered the brains out of you.”
I frown.
“That’s Daisy’s room.”
I bolt upright and spring off the bed, grabbing a black silk robe. I slip it on and knot the tie at my waist. Another bang hits the wall hard. My heart leaps to my throat.
“You should stay here,” he tells me, zipping his black slacks.
I glare.
“It was worth a try.” He places a hand on the small of my back. “After you.”
The momentI reach the door frame with Connor, we find Scott standing here, watching the scene with crossed arms. Not doing a damn thing to stop whatever’s happening.
And then I look, and my jaw hits the floor.
A glass lamp is shattered on the ground, a bookshelf toppled over, any fragile knickknacks destroyed on the hardwood.
Ryke wrestles a medium-built guy in the center of the room. I discern his age quickly. Forties. Red hair that sticks up from being pummeled. His lip is busted, and he manages to put up a good fight against Ryke, who’s shirtless in a pair of track pants. The man shoves Ryke back and flings two punches, one connecting with Ryke’s jaw.
“Get the fuck off me!” the guy yells.
And then Ryke socks him right in the gut. The man crumples forward, coughing.
Daisy is in the corner, smashing something on the ground, hidden behind her bed. I give Scott a long agonizing glare for being a horrible human being and just standing here.And I go to my sister’s aid while Connor tries to separate the guys.
“You motherfucking pervert,” Ryke sneers, grabbing him around the throat. He’s about to slam his head into the ground, but Connor grips Ryke’s wrist hard and throws him off.
All I can think is that Ryke found Daisy’s boyfriend. Who’s a gross older man. That’s my first assumption.
“Don’t wake up Lily and Lo,” Connor says in a hushed voice. “Calm down.”
Ryke’s features are so dark. He’s almost hard to look at.
And then the man tries to escape, about to sprint out the door, but Connor snatches him by the shirt and drags him in front of his body. The man struggles in Connor’s forceful grip.
Right when I reach Daisy, I realize what she’s smashing.
A camera.
Now on her knees, she slams the device repeatedly on the ground, little plastic pieces flying in every direction. She screams furiously each time the mangled lens meets the floor.
“Daisy,” I whisper, but I grab her arms before she hurts herself with the sharp debris.
She drops the remains of the broken camera and slowly sits, shivering in my arms. It wasn’t her boyfriend in her room, I realize now. It had to have been the paparazzi—what looks to be a stupid one, a loser who obviously has no concept of the law. I glance over my shoulder at Connor and Ryke.
Connor has his phone pressed to his ear while he grips the man’s shirt. Every time he struggles, Connor throttles him with one hand. Composed, tall and strong. He speaks quietly to someone on the other line.
I make out Connor’s words, “We need to keep this out of the tabloids…Lily and Lo don’t need to know. They feel guilty enough for the media attention…”
“What happened?” I ask Ryke who nears the bed. Scott continues to just stand by the fucking door, watching. It’s not as though this is being filmed. We’re in abedroom, which means there aren’t cameras here.
“Daisy called me on her cell,” he says.
