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Without another word, I follow him upstairs to his bedroom. He pulls back the covers and pats the bed, silently inviting me to climb in. The moment the cool sheets brush against my skin, my eyes grow heavy. Tilly hops up beside me, her sturdy body draped across my feet in a protective snuggle.

Roman smiles as he tucks us in, then brushes my bangs away from my face before planting a chaste kiss on my forehead. “Good night, sweet girl. Get some sleep. I’ll be up in a bit. I’m just going to finish picking up.”

As much as I’d hoped tonight would end differently, I know there’s no point in arguing with him. Besides, I can’t remember the last time I was this comfortable.

My eyelids flutter closed as the promise of anything more drifts through my mind. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m already dreaming—that this day was simply too good to be real.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Roman

Anger management or prison. That’s a hell of an ultimatum.

And all this time, I had no idea.

I feel like such an ass that I never once pressed her to tell me about what was really going on in her life. Not only is she constantly getting dragged online and provoked by the media, but now she’s facing very real legal ramifications that could not only end her career but could ruin her life.

Meanwhile, her soon-to-be ex-husband—if I have anything to do with it anyway—isn’t helping matters. Not only has he been radio silent, but I’ve been watching his socials, and he’s been liking hate comments, only fueling the public’s already negative opinion of Kira.

He’s such a fucking asshole. No wonder she snapped.

He’s the one she should’ve hit with her car.

The whole thing is mind-boggling, and I’m furious for her.

Needing to clear my head so that I don’t do something rash, I head downstairs and make myself a cup of chamomile tea.

A few more violent ideas immediately come to mind, but I force myself not to act on my raging impulses. As good as it would feel to track down that asshole and beat his pretty boy face until he’d need a whole new one, that would only make Kira’s situation worse. Not to mention, reinforce all the horrible things the media already thinks about her.

And as much as my ego hates to admit it, she doesn’t need me swooping in to save her. Her self-confidence is already so low, it would be selfish of me to take that opportunity away from her. She needs to do this for herself, if only to prove that she can.

But that doesn’t mean it’s easy for me to sit back and watch. When someone I care about needs something, I want to be the one who fixes it. And somewhere along the way, Kira became someone I care about. A lot. It’s fucking terrifying how protective I feel of her. She’s kind and genuine, with a heart of gold, and the public couldn’t have her more wrong.

It’s not completely out of character for me. I’ve always been the first one to offer my help. It gives my life purpose, makes me feel like I’m needed. And there’s not much I love more than being needed.

So instead of trying to fix it for her, I settle with trying to think of how I could make things a little bit easier.

It doesn’t take me long to recall the title of the book I saw her reading at the pool. Pussy Power: 13 Steps to Embracing Your Feminine Rage. How could I forget with a title like that?

I type it in the search bar, and the familiar hissing cat cover comes into view.

I one-click the e-book option and immediately start reading.

Admittedly, I haven’t read many female-centered anger management books, but I have to say, Dr. Marguerite knows how to capture her audience.

The book is shockingly helpful and packed full of insightful takeaways that have my mind brimming with ideas of ways I can help.

Before I know it, I’ve finished the entire book, and the first hints of sunlight are beginning to peek through the windows.

I figure there’s no point in going to bed now, so I take advantage of the early hour and call in a few favors.

“Careful. There you go. Watch your step,” I say, keeping my hands firmly pressed over her eyes as I carefully guide her inside the dark room.

She was understandably skeptical when I pulled out the blindfold, but after some A-plus acting on my part, I finally convinced her to wear it.

“Is this really necessary? It can’t be that serious.”

“Oh, it’s serious alright.”