Fowler Sisters: Stealing Rose Part 24

"Cla.s.sy," I mutter, shaking my head. "Where do you find them, Mitch?"

"I'll catch up with you later, okay, sweetheart?" Mitch.e.l.l kisses the other girl on the forehead and shoves her out of his arms. She doesn't seem to mind, though, and offers him a soft smile before she walks away. He turns to me, making a soft tsking noise. "You broke that girl's heart, Caden. That's why she's so hostile. Have you lost all your finesse or what?"

"Whatever," I mutter. "Listen, bro, I gotta get out of here. It's been real, but I'll see you Sunday, okay? Text me the exact departure time so I know what's up."

"Where's the fire?" He comes a little closer, an easy smile on his face, but I see the look in his eyes. He doesn't want to take no for an answer. He doesn't want me to leave. I don't get it. Why torture me when I clearly don't want to be here? "Don't leave yet. The party's just getting started."

I've been here for hours. If the party is really just getting started, I'm beyond done. "This type of thing really isn't my scene anymore," I tell him. "You know this. When was the last time I partied with you like this?"

"When did you become such a drag?" Mitch.e.l.l shakes his head and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, extracting one from the pack. "I miss the good old days, man. When we used to drink and f.u.c.k around with girls. Get high, get laid, eat, take a downer and crash out. Remember how much fun we used to have?"

I remember how empty my life felt. I remember hating the hangovers the next day. The humiliation when I couldn't quite recall what happened the night before. Finding a gold necklace in my pocket with an emerald-and-diamond pendant dangling from it one time, so freaked out and worried over who I'd stolen it from. Whether that person saw me, because I couldn't remember for the life of me what exactly happened and how I became in possession of that necklace.

That was the last night I partied. The last night I let myself get out of control. Never again, I told myself. It's one thing to be a sly criminal. It's another thing entirely to be a reckless thief who doesn't give a s.h.i.t if he's caught or not.

That moment taught me a lesson. One I'll never forget.

"You know why I stopped," I tell him, my voice low, my gaze intense. "I have my reasons."

He stares at me and then offers a short nod. "If you've gotta go, go. But I think Whitney is looking for you, so you better tell her goodbye. This might be your last chance before we leave London."

The absolute last thing I want to do. And from the look on my face, Mitch.e.l.l must have sensed it because he bursts out laughing, not giving a s.h.i.t about my predicament. "Man up. She's not that bad."

"She's insane. Besides, she knows I'm with someone else and doesn't give a s.h.i.t," I mutter.

"Yeah, what's up with that anyway? Who is she? The girl you're with. I'm curious."

"You don't know her," I say quickly, too quickly. Though he probably does know Rose. At the very least he should know Violet and Lily.

"That means I must totally know her. Hmm." He takes my arm and drags me back into the living room, which is crowded with people. At least the music has lowered, so it's not so f.u.c.king loud. Probably got turned down so as not to disturb the neighbors.

I glance around the room, spotting her in an instant. Whitney is sitting on a couch crowded with other people, bent over a silver tray with white lines of powder on it, and I pull my arm out of Mitch.e.l.l's grip.

I don't want to deal with Whitney now. She's going to be a nightmare. "I gotta go. Seriously."

"Whitney! I found him," Mitch.e.l.l crows, pointing at me with a jerk of his thumb.

Whitney lifts her head and wipes delicately at her nose, a giant smile on her face. She springs up from the couch and runs over to me, slinging her arms around my neck and slamming her body into mine. She's wearing a little top and shorts, her a.s.s cheeks practically hanging out, and she tries to give me a smacking kiss on the cheek but I dodge away from her.

She's high as f.u.c.k, zipping along at a million miles a minute and on the verge of being uncontrollable.

"You're such a party p.o.o.per, not letting me kiss you. Don't you miss my kisses?" She frowns, her arms still around me, her head slung back and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s smashed against my chest. Her pupils are huge-I can hardly see the color of her eyes-and her cheeks are flushed. "Come on, Caden. One last time together before you go back to New York. Please?"

I'm a.s.suming Mitch.e.l.l told her I'm hitching a ride back home with him. "I don't think so." I try to disentangle myself from her arms, but she firms her grip. "Come on, Whit. Let me go. Don't make a scene."

She pouts and slips one hand down to streak her fingers along my chest. I grab hold of her wrist, stopping her path, and she curls her hand into a fist, giving me a little punch. "Ever since you hooked up with Rose Fowler you've become a real d.i.c.k."

"Move." I rest my other hand on her waist, ready to push her out of my way, but she doesn't so much as budge.

And her next words leave me cold.

"I think they've got you figured out, Caden. Violet's been asking me lots of nosy questions lately, all about you." She pokes her index finger into my chest, hard. "Maybe they know your secret."

"Ow." I rub my chest, unease sweeping over me. No way could they know my secret. Who could tell them? "You didn't say anything, did you?"

"No, of course not. I'm your friend." Her indignant tone is almost amusing. "But I can keep my mouth shut for good if you give me another chance. In bed." She bats her eyelashes at me and giggles.

Jesus. She won't let up. "It's not going to happen between us, Whit. Never again. So give it up." I shove away from her and she stumbles backward, her cheeks red, her eyes flashing. I'm walking away from her when she shouts for everyone to hear.

"You're a f.u.c.king p.r.i.c.k, Caden Kingsley! I hope you get an STD and your d.i.c.k falls off," she yells, making Mitch.e.l.l laugh.

I send him a look and start for the foyer. "I'm out," I tell him, giving him the finger as I stride toward the door, stopping in my tracks when I see who's standing there as still as a statue, watching me.

Rose.

My heart thundering, I take a step toward her and then stop. She looks ... cold. Empty. How much did she see? How much did she hear? Having her show up here is like my two worlds colliding, and I'm not sure I'm prepared for the fallout.

"Baby." I pause, shocked at how she doesn't so much as move an inch, how ... plastic her expression is. "What are you doing here?"

Rose studies me for so long I'm afraid she's not going to answer. "I guess I should be asking you the same thing," she finally says coldly, folding her arms in front of herself. "Considering Whitney's hanging all over you."

So she saw Whitney touching me. Great. "She's drunk. High. She doesn't know what she's doing."

"Don't make excuses for her." Rose's eyes flash with anger.

f.u.c.k. I start to approach her, but the look on her face tells me I need to stay back. "How did you find this place?"

"Whitney." Rose spits her name out. "She invited Violet and Ryder to come by after work. Nice, huh? Fun little party I supposedly knew nothing about?"

"I wasn't trying to hide anything from you," I explain. "I told you I was going to see my friend."

"Whatever." She waves a hand, her lip curling in disgust. "I pulled one over on Whitney anyway. She didn't know that when she was texting Violet the directions to this place, it was me that was asking for them." She comes down the short steps of the foyer, heading straight for me. Her posture is perfect, her head lifted, but I see the sadness in her gaze. And the anger. "I had an interesting conversation with Violet earlier."

"Yeah?" I scratch the back of my neck, wishing like h.e.l.l I could pull her into my arms, but she looks ready to scratch my face off.

"Yes." She stops directly in front of me. So close I can smell her, feel her warmth, and I curl my hands into fists so I don't touch her. "It was about you."

I glance over my shoulder, thankful no one is paying us any attention. The music has been turned back up and Whitney is standing on the coffee table, doing a little b.u.mp and grind. I turn back to Rose to find her still glaring at me. "Can we talk about this later? When we get back to the hotel?" Avoidance is my specialty. It should be my middle name.

But of course, I should have known Rose wouldn't let me get away with it.

"No," she says firmly, shaking her head. "I need to talk about this with you now, Caden. It's eating me up inside, what Violet told me."

s.h.i.t. I'm f.u.c.ked. Reaching out, I take her arm, my touch gentle, my fingers itching to caress and soothe. I'd probably get a fistful of knuckles in my teeth if I tried at this moment. Rose looks ready to destroy me. "Let's go upstairs, then," I tell her softly. "We'll find a room so we can have some privacy." May as well get this over with. Find out if I'm doomed forever without Rose.

I already know the answer. I'm f.u.c.ked regardless of what I tell her. Maybe it's better she found out now versus later. Then we can be good and done with it by the time I head back home.

The thought isn't as rea.s.suring as I'd hoped.

"I don't know if I want to go anywhere alone with you." She tries to escape my grip, but I won't let her go.

I can't let her go. She belongs to me. Doesn't she see it? Doesn't she feel it?

"Hey, hey, who's the pretty lady?" It's Mitch.e.l.l. Irritation rolls through me.

We both turn and Mitch.e.l.l's eyes widen when he sees who's with me. "Rose Fowler?" He slides a look to me, surprise in his eyes. "For reals, Kingsley? Nice catch."

"f.u.c.k off," I tell him, grabbing her hand and leading her up the stairs. She doesn't protest, doesn't say a word, and I'm thankful for her acquiescence. I need to be alone with her so I can possibly rectify this real-life nightmare I'm experiencing.

But I'm pretty sure it's already too far gone to fix.

"Don't you dare f.u.c.k her on my parents' bed," Mitch.e.l.l calls after us, then yelps. "Ow, Whitney, f.u.c.king get your hands off me, you jealous cow!"

I feel Rose stiffen next to me but I don't acknowledge it. I don't need this drama from Whitney and Mitch.e.l.l or anyone else. Not Violet, either. Walking down the hall, looking for an empty room, I feel like I'm being led to my death. To the gallows, ready to face my execution.

More than anything, I'm scared. Afraid of what Rose is going to say, how she's going to react, how I'm going to react. I've never faced my truth before. No one has ever called me out on it. I just do what I do and skate by, always getting by. Always getting away with it.

Rose is about to make me face my reality. I know it. And I'm not ready. Not by a long shot.

The bedroom at the end of the hall is huge and I can only a.s.sume it's the master. Rose and I walk inside and I close the door, turning the lock on the k.n.o.b as I watch her go to a chair near the window and sit in it. She looks perfectly composed, perfectly beautiful in the black dress I zipped her up in only a few hours ago, when life was still relatively normal and I hadn't been laid out bare, confronting my fears.

May as well get right to the point. Suffering is not my favorite thing to do. "So. What did Violet say?"

She grips her knees so tightly her knuckles are white. She won't look in my direction and that kills me. "I don't know who he is."

I frown. "What?"

"The guy downstairs. The one who said my name." She shakes her head, then gazes out the window. "He's not familiar."

"That's Mitch.e.l.l. Mitch.e.l.l Landers. His dad is some real estate mogul and his mom is on reality TV." No joke. Mitch.e.l.l's parents are the real f.u.c.king big deal. His dad is a billionaire and his mom was on some weird shopping show that put her excessive spending habits on display for the entire country to see.

She's still not looking at me, now keeping her gaze trained on her knees. "Oh."

The silence hangs between us, bloated and full of tension, like a heavy, dark cloud just about to explode with thunder and lightning. My skin feels tight, my stomach is doing flips, and I can't f.u.c.king stand it any longer.

"Rose." She hangs her head farther when I say her name. "What did Violet say?"

"I don't want to tell you." Her voice is so quiet I almost can't hear her. "I don't want to talk about it."

What? "You just said ..." I blow out a harsh breath, resting my hands on my hips. Frustration runs through my veins. I don't know how to handle this. "You said you wanted to talk about it. So let's do it."

"I don't want to hear your side of it. Or hear you defend yourself and us end up getting into a fight. Not anymore. It's just ... wasted breath, you know? I don't want any of that. Not tonight." She lifts her head, her eyes meeting mine. "Why was Whitney sitting on your lap earlier, taking pictures and kissing your cheek?"

Ah, h.e.l.l. I was really hoping she wouldn't mention that. "How did you know about it?" I ask carefully, feeling as if I'm walking into a minefield and Rose has already set the trap.

Her lips thin. "She sent the photo to Violet and she showed it to me."

f.u.c.k me. Everyone's out to screw me over, I swear. "Whit kissed my cheek and took the picture when she first showed up. I shoved her off my lap the minute I realized what she was doing."

Rose's gaze doesn't waver from mine. "Why was she hanging on you when I first walked into the house?"

"I told you. She's drunk. She's high. She'd just done a few lines. And she's p.i.s.sed that I lost interest in her. She still tried to get me to have s.e.x with her," I say with a grimace. I'm being about as honest as I can get. If she wants to ask me anything else, I'll tell her the truth. No matter what.

No matter how much she might end up hating me.

"I don't like her at all." She utters a little frustrated noise. "I don't know why my sister is friends with her."

I don't get it, either. "When it comes to Whitney, you have nothing to worry about," I rea.s.sure her.

"What about ... anything else? Should I be worried?" Rose asks.

She's being purposely vague. And I don't want to say anything that's unexpected or that will incriminate me. "When it comes to other women, I'm not interested. There is only you." That statement I can stand by 100 percent. I don't want anyone else. I don't need anyone else.

Just Rose.

Her face almost crumples, like she wants to cry, but then her expression changes, becoming impa.s.sive in an instant. "Come here." Her breath hitches. "Please."

I go to her with apprehensive steps. What if she slaps my face? Kicks me in the b.a.l.l.s with those killer heels she's wearing? She could spit in my eye and I would take it. It would be the least I deserve for what I've kept from her. For what I've done to so many people these last few years. I justified my actions by saying my stealing hurt no one since all my marks were loaded already. They had insurance. Coverage for their loss.

Where was the coverage for my loss? For my mother's loss? It disappeared when my dad jumped from that building. When he stole from his clients. Every inch of security we'd ever had was ripped from us with his actions. Actions he never had to truly face.

His unnecessary death is what has fueled me all this time. What helped me justify my actions. Twisted and all sorts of messed up, but it's all I've got.

And it's hard to face my wrongs in front of a woman who I never, ever want to disappoint.

Rose takes my hand when I stop in front of her, interlacing our fingers together. She tilts her head back so our gazes meet, and her golden eyes sparkle with unshed tears. The sight of those tears slays me dead and my chest cramps. With my other hand I cup her cheek, stroke her soft skin, and she leans into my touch, closing her eyes so the tears tangle in her lashes.

I hate what I've done to her. The torture I must have inflicted on her. The torture I'm about to put her through. It's not fair. If I could take her pain away and make it mine, I would. In a heartbeat.

"I know what you've done," she whispers, her eyes still closed as if she can't look at me. "You don't have to say anything else. You don't have to explain yourself. Just know that ... I know. Violet told me."

Questions race through my mind, one after the other, coming at me rapid fire. How does Violet know anything? Who told her? And what exactly did she say to Rose?

She pulls on my hand and I step closer, shocked when she wraps her arms around my legs and rests her cheek against my thigh. "It doesn't matter what you've done. You have your reasons and I'm not going to question them. Just ... let me have one more night with you before we leave. That's all I want."

"Rose ..." My throat feels raw. My chest aches. Foreign emotions swirl within me and I don't know how to control them. Or what to do. "Baby. What are you-"

"Don't say anything." She interrupts me, squeezing my legs tighter. "Don't play stupid. Don't deny what you've done. Just let me have this time with you." She looks up at me. "Please."

"I leave Sunday," I tell her solemnly. It's time for me to be honest. "Mitch.e.l.l flies back Sunday night and I'm going with him."

She lifts her head, keeping her gaze fixed on mine. "I fly out tomorrow."

"What?" I rasp. The words stick in my throat, and it takes a concentrated effort to force the rest of them out. "Where to?" I croak. "New York?"

"Yes." She nods. "Right before I came here, my father called me and we talked for quite a while. Your words stuck with me all day, Caden. You're so right. I can't quit. I'm not a quitter."

"No." I touch her hair, the silky, soft strands clinging to my fingers as I push it away from her face. My gaze roams her face hungrily. Are these really the last hours I get to spend with her? "You're definitely not a quitter, Ro."