“I don’t know,” I whisper, leaning my head on Oliver’s shoulder. “You’re so pretty.”
He’s pretty like one of those marble sculptures you see in textbooks from the ancient Greeks. You don’t think about getting into bed with a marble sculpture.
It would not feel soft and cuddly.
Oliver pulls me in for another kiss; his palm covers my breast. I gasp in surprise, but then Lucas’s hand delves deep between my legs, almost touching my sex. It’s so much. It’s so much, and it’s not actually funny.
I’m not laughing anymore.
“Get the hell out of my house.”
Everything stops.
Oliver pulls back, only slightly. He’s still embracing me. “What the fuck?” he asks in this tone that manages to be both friendly and offended.
Mr. Rochester sits in the armchair, leaned back, casual as ever. The only sign that he’s serious is the flashing in his dark eyes and the ferocity in his voice. “You heard me.”
We all know that he has three broken bones in his body. That he underwent major surgery only a few nights ago, and yet there’s a sense of lingering violence in the air.
A warning crackling like static before a storm.
“We were just having a little fun.” Oliver.
“And now it’s over. You have five minutes to vacate the premises.”
It’s only now, when everyone stands still that I realize how far things got in a room full of strangers. There are other people in close embraces. I don’t think we were the only ones making out, but it’s still crazy. And not funny. Like suddenly nothing is funny anymore. I’m so sad about it. It feels like nothing might ever be funny again.
Zoey stands up. “Beau. You don’t mean this.”
“You too,” he says without glancing at her.
Her mouth opens. Her shock feels genuine. I feel bad for her, even though I think she got me really drunk on purpose. “Don’t make her leave,” I say. “It’s raining outside.”
“It’s always raining outside,” Mr. Rochester says.
“It was a kiss,” Zoey says, her voice rising in pitch. “They kissed her. Are you that much of a caveman that you can’t stand to see anyone kiss her?”
A sigh. “I don’t expect you to understand, Zoey.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you never cared much about fidelity. Go back to LA. I don’t want you here.”
There’s a terrible crack. It happens without anything changing in the physical scene. It’s only a feeling—the knowledge that her confidence snaps in half. Her assurance that she’s welcome, the beautiful facade she presents the world, gone.
“Let’s get out of here,” Mateo says. He speaks softly, but everyone seems to listen. Their shock evaporates and changes to a directed energy.
In the next moment Zoey lifts her chin. “Fine,” she says, haughty as a queen. “Clearly Beau wants to fuck his pretty little nanny. We shouldn’t interrupt time that he’s already paid for.”
Oliver mutters to his brother across me. “We can probably console her back at the inn.”
A soft grunt of agreement. Lucas gives me a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll think of you fondly, darling girl. And imagine that you’re her until I black out.”
It takes some rustling around, some searching for shoes and jackets, and then eventually they’re gone. I lean back on the sofa and throw out my arms. The leather feels so blessedly good against my skin. “I think she was calling me a prostitute,” I say to the empty room.
“Don’t worry about her,” the room says. No, it’s not the room talking. It’s Mr. Rochester.
I turn my head to look at him. “You were mean to her.”
“I’m mean to everyone.”
“Not Paige.”
He raises one eyebrow. “Maybe not her.”
“It’s such a relief,” I tell him soberly. “If you were mean to her, I don’t know what I’d do. She’s gone through enough losing her parents without some guy being cruel.”
“Like your foster father was cruel?”
I bite my lip. “I don’t like to talk about that.”
“I made it so that they couldn’t foster anymore. Maybe it was worse than I imagined. Should I turn the district attorney on him? Or maybe I should just fly down there and kick his ass.”
“Don’t be silly,” I say, giving him a grin. “You couldn’t kick anyone’s ass. Your leg is broken.”
He lifts a walking stick that he’s been using to get around tonight. “That’s what this is for.”
“You know the doctor told you not to use crutches. That’s not even crutches. That’s worse than crutches. You’re going to open your wound back up and not heal properly. And then what am I going to do with you? Not bring you food, that’s for sure. You can beg Zoey to come back.”
His lips quirk. “You’re bossy when you’re drunk.”
“I’m bossy all the time. I just can’t tell you what I’m really thinking all the time.”
“I want to hear what you’re really thinking.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re just saying that now because you’ve had whiskey and everything seems funny. Once we’re sober you’re going to be a grumpy boss man again.”