Page 9 of Unexpected Complication

“What?”

“You forgot to check the ice. That’s where I put the drugs.”

I was laughing as she shrieked, and the sound of the glass hitting the door and shattering behind me only made me laugh harder.

“Get some sleep,” I called over my shoulder.

I passed Sean in the hall. “Cleanup, aisle four.”

“I heard.”

“Skylar may need something else to drink.”

“You’re enjoying this too much.” He smirked at me. “She’s getting to you.”

I shrugged.

But as I walked away, I knew he was right.

She had already gotten under my skin.

This was so not part of the plan.

Chapter 3

Cian

Later, alone in my room, I watched her stubborn streak rear itself again. She sat in the chair, refusing the fresh drink Sean offered, muttering at him the entire time he calmly swept up the mess of broken glass and ice. After he left, I assumed she would give in and crawl into bed. But instead, she sat in the chair, her head occasionally nodding, refusing to succumb to the exhaustion I knew she had to be feeling. I was tired of simply watching her fight against sleep. When her head finally hit her chest, her hands falling limp to the sides, I slipped into the room and carried her over to the bed, tucking the blankets tight so she could get a proper night’s sleep.

I stood over her, finally able to take her in without her glaring at me. Skylar’s face was heart-shaped and pale, with deep shadows under her eyes. Long lashes rested on her cheeks. One dark bruise to the side of her eye made me frown. I traced it lightly with my finger, still wondering how she got it and why it bothered me so much. Her lips were full and pouty, and I remembered the feeling of them pressed against my palm. Her hair, dry now, was a mass of curls and a deep brown like her eyes. Her little hands were clutching the blanket, another deep bruise on the back of one. She was thin, far too thin, but I also knew that came from living on the streets. I wondered what her story was and if we would ever be close enough for her to tell me.

I stepped back in surprise.

I wanted to be close enough for that?

What the fuck was she doing to me?

How was that possible? I didn’t know this girl. I shouldn’t know this girl. But still, the need to be sure she was safe was strong. I wanted to sit beside her and watch over her all night. Be there if she woke up scared. Hold her if she needed to be comforted.

Spinning on my heel, I left the room.

I needed to stop thinking that way.

I checked on her a couple times in the night. Once, she was crying, curled up back in the chair with her knees drawn up tight against her chest. It took everything I had not to go in and offer her comfort, even though I knew she’d curse at me and tell me it was entirely my fault anyway. I was pretty sure she’d never seen anyone murdered before—and I hadn’t let her know she still hadn’t. Instead, I let her cry it out, and I snuck back in to carry her back to the bed and make sure she was covered up.

I had to laugh in the morning when I checked on her. She was asleep again on the floor—proving her point, I suppose, that she decided where she would sleep. But at least she’d taken a blanket with her this time.

I made her breakfast and took it in, trying not to wake her up as I lifted her, once again, onto the bed.

I couldn’t resist running my hand through her curls as she burrowed deeper into the pillow.

I did, however, manage to resist the temptation to drop a kiss on her pale cheek.

I left the room, shaking my head at the strange thoughts I was having.

I walked into the house, still processing my meeting with Orson. Sean was in the kitchen, leaning on the counter and eating a bowl of pasta. His laptop was open, and he chuckled away as he chewed and swallowed.

“What’s so funny?”