by Lila Fox
“Ugh!” She let out a shriek of displeasure before slamming the door in my face, causing me to laugh.
“I’ll come back for the shoes later then,” I yelled before making my way downstairs, whistling the entire way to the Porsche.
18
Dex
Rosie looked unusually smug when she showed back up at the studio but I couldn’t exactly pinpoint why. Instead of speculating, I chalked it up to the fact that she was just happy with the knowledge that she officially owned my ass. No secrets, hiding, or boundaries. The fact that I knew I owned her just as much, made me smug as fuck too.
After another week of spending time together, fucking, creating, and learning each other, our bliss ended, like all things in our relationship seemed to, with a phone call.
This time it was the warehouse phone that rang, interrupting the small, but intimate lunch we were having on the floor of the studio. Rosie groaned, throwing her head back when she heard the shrill sound of the office phone ringing. The long, slender column of her neck made my mouth water. I had forgone leaving marks on her where others could so easily see, but in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to sink my teeth into her, bruising her sweet flesh with my eager mouth.
“Looks like our break is over.” Rosie stood up from her seated position next to me.
I couldn’t help but stare as her ass, perfectly plump and gorgeously encased in her tight skinny jeans.
I didn’t want her to answer the phone. I wanted her here, writhing in my lap. “Just ignore it.” I reached up to squeeze her ass, she swatted my hand away with a chuckle.
“It could be something important.”
“Doubt it.”
I stood up and followed after her, my eyes focused on the swing of her hips as she walked through the warehouse. Maybe I could convince her to let me have her across the desk once her phone call was over.
Rosie rushed over to the cordless phone before the ringing ceased, answering with her usual pleasantness, “Dex Quinn’s office.”
I fucking loved it when she said my name.
Rosie’s smile immediately dropped as the person on the other end of the line spoke.
“Who is it?” I whispered as her eyes widened slightly.
She didn’t answer, causing me to reach for the phone, she knocked my hand away, shaking her head frantically.
I repeated my question, “Rosie, who is it?”
She cleared her throat before she spoke, her voice small and shaky as she spoke to the person on the other end. “How did you get this number?”
My eyes narrowed, assuming that it was that little bastard, Daniel. I warned him against calling again the first time we spoke and I didn’t take him as the type of man to take me up on my threat.
If it was him, I didn’t want them speaking. I trusted Rosie, of course. I believed her when she said there was nothing between them, but he sounded possessive when he called and I didn’t want him upsetting her.
“Let me see the phone, Rosie. Let me talk to him.”
Rosie placed her hand over the speaker on the bottom of the phone. “Shut up for a minute, Dex,” she hissed out.
I couldn’t help but smile a bit at her aggression. I loved it when she got feisty. I backed off, sitting down in the office chair and waiting for her to finish. I’d get the details when she hung up.
Her voice was the same when she spoke again, rushed, angry, and desperate all at once. “Alright, alright. I’ll be there. Tell him I’ll be there.”
With that last decree she hung up the phone, slamming it down on the dock and dropping her hands down on the heavy desk in front of her, using it to completely support her weight. She didn’t turn to me, eyes burning with fire and tongue wagging to tell me off. She stood there silently, head down, eyes closed, shoulders slumped.
I stood up, placing my hands on her tensed arms, rubbing the bare skin, feeling the gooseflesh.
“Who was that, sweetheart?”
She sighed. “My stepmother.”
My hands stilled, shock and confusion taking over me. “What?”
She turned around to face me, her big brown eyes were wet and red around the rims. “Apparently my father had a heart attack.”
I didn’t know what to say. Rosie’s relationship with her father was awful, so awful that it didn’t feel right to offer condolences or platitudes. “And he’s…”
“He’s fine,” she scoffed, her pretty face contorting into something brutal. “But apparently he’s been asking to see me.”
I drew her into me, tucking her face into my neck. “You don’t have to go anywhere, Rosie.” I laid a kiss on her floral scented hair. “You don’t have to go to him.”
Rosie pulled back. “Of course I do, Dex.”
I wanted to deny it, tell her that she didn’t need to do anything she didn’t want to. She could stay here with me, curled up in my arms in the place where we first met forever if she wanted to. No piece of shit fathers, no entitled ex-boyfriends, no expectations. Just us. Me and her. Together. But I knew her, and her I knew her well. As tumultuous as their relationship was and as much as he hurt her, her heart wouldn’t let her deny him this. Especially not when she still needed closure.
Rosie could spout all the nonsense she wanted about forgetting her family and getting her fresh start with me, but I knew she was still hurting. She had to be. As loving as my parents were, I knew without a doubt that nothing fucked kids up more than their parents did.
She needed to do this, to brave the storm and ask her father the tough questions she always wanted answers to. I wasn’t sure if she’d get them. I wasn’t going to hold out hope that her piece of shit father would come through for her in the end, but maybe that was what she needed. Whether the outcome was good or bad, Rosie needed to confront her fears. No matter how things worked out, I would be there with her. Standing by her side, offering her strength and support, always there. Showing her the jagged, fucked up pieces of her were just as important to me as the smooth ones.
“So you’ll go,” I whispered in her ear, my voice resolute. “But I’m going with you.”
It took us a few days to get our affairs in order. I informed all my contacts we weren’t to be contacted for anything less than a life or death emergency, tasked Cam with looking over my place and the studio, and mentally prepared myself for the shit storm I was about to face.
In the days leading up to our departure, Rosie was quiet and distant. Her eyes seemed to be constantly filled with tears she refused to shed and her head was all over the place. I picked up the slack, making all of our travel plans and going with her to inform her building manager she would be gone for a little while.
The guy was a fucking sleaze, the way his leering eyes trailed over my girlfriend made me want to snap him in half, but it made me want to have her out of there altogether even more. As soon as we got back, as soon as this garbage with her family was over, I was inviting her to come live with me. I didn’t care about propriety or timelines. I wanted her in my space. She belonged in my home just as much as she belonged in my goddamned heart.
After a five hour flight from Miami to LAX, Rosie and I herded our bags into a rental car and made the hour long drive up the coast to her family’s Malibu beach house where her father was recuperating.
For everything Rosie had told me about her family, all of their wealth and prestige, it seemed odd that they hadn’t sent a car for her. Especially considering how much she hated driving and how they didn’t know she would be coming with someone. I attempted to convince her to tell her stepmother I would be joining her, but she argued that the woman would try to talk her out of it. I let the subject drop after that.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath as we pulled up to the house. Rosie’s childhood home stood large and imposing at the end of a winding pebbled driveway. The mansion was a far cry from the modernized homes I frequented in the Miami art world, it was the epitome of old money.
Tall palm trees lined the pathway up
to the brown-brick home. The mansion stretched out comfortably across the expanse of the estate, elegant archways outlining every window on the ground floor. Warm lighting glowed from the glass panes inside, filling the sunset with a glittering twinkle. It was hard to tell how many rooms the place had, but I assumed it was an absurd amount. And while I couldn’t catch a glimpse of what was around back, I was sure the “backyard” was outfitted with enough amenities to fit a five-star hotel.
I parked the rental next to a Mercedes jeep in the driveway and took a deep breath before shutting off the engine and getting out, making my way around to Rosie’s side of the car. I placed a short peck on her soft lips as she moved out of the car and stood before me. “I know you said your family was rich, but this is ridiculous.” I motioned towards the collection of luxury sports cars littering the driveway.
She laughed humorlessly. “Dad comes from old money.” She reached into the car to grab her purse. “And he likes to show off.”
As much as I admired his style, I was liking her father less and less by the second, and I hadn’t even met the bastard yet.
19
Rosie
The estate hadn’t changed a bit. It was still huge, flashy, and way too much. My father had a hand in every part of the place. From the shape of the hedges to the type of wood that went into making the front door. Growing up I was positive the estate was his real pride and joy. He was more proud of his home than he was of all three of his children combined.
It felt weird, ringing the buzzer instead of letting myself in like always. In a fit of righteous anger I threw my house keys into the ocean on my way out. At the time, it was supposed to be symbolic of my vow to never return. Now, the memory of it made me feel nothing but embarrassment at my own dramatics.
A young woman I didn’t recognize answered the door a moment later. Her glossy brown hair was pulled up in a neat bun and she donned a simple pair of jeans and a sweater. The white apron around her waist clued me in to who she was: the new housekeeper.
She smiled at Dex and I, beckoning us inside by widening one of the front double doors. “You must be Miss Rosaline. Mrs. Reed told me to expect your arrival.” As she closed the door behind us she leaned over to the intercom system next to the door, letting out a short statement to let my stepmother know we arrived. She looked Dex up and down, her brown brow furrowing. “She didn’t tell me you would be bringing someone along though. I only prepared one bedroom.”
I smiled at her, hoping like hell it was reassuring. “That’s alright. She didn’t know.”
“Rosaline!” My stepmother exclaimed as she descended the imperial staircase.
I stood there awkwardly. “Hey, Valerie.”
She looked the same as she always had, her long red hair styled perfectly and her small body encased in an impeccable pair of slacks and a sleeveless silk blouse. Her ever-present pearls sitting perfectly along her dainty collarbone. She was beautiful, just like always.
Valerie grabbed me into a hug, her designer perfume smelling of wildflowers. My stepmother had never been outwardly cruel or rude to me, but she had never done anything to discourage my father from separating me from the rest of the family. I remembered the tears in her eyes when my father brought me home for the first time, and their hushed argument later that night about the impending destruction of their perfect little family.
I had always resented her for that. For not caring enough. For denying me a proper mother figure because of mistakes that were not my own. For spending more time outwardly denying my presence than getting to know me.
“Look at you!” she exclaimed, taking me by the shoulders and leaning back to take me in. “It looks like that Miami sun has done you some good.” She tweaked my nose a bit. “We missed you around here.”
My scoff sounded throughout the foyer, bouncing off of the perfectly marbled floors.
Valerie sighed, choosing to ignore my rude reaction. “Bianca and Adrian send their regards. You missed them by a few hours.”
With the exception of some childish taunts and pranks here and there, much like their mother, my half brother and sister had largely chosen to ignore me. I wasn’t sure if it was due to our age difference or the fact that I was the product of their father’s infidelity. Either way, I definitely hadn’t been eager to see them.
“Please tell them I said hello the next time you speak with them.”
My stepmother smiled and turned to Dex, who had been waiting silently and patiently at my side, sizing him up with her bright green gaze. “And who is this?”
“This is Dex, my boyfriend.”
Dex grasped her hand in his, giving her a firm shake before wrapping his arm around my waist. “It’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am.”
Valerie smirked, looking over at me once more. “You leave us for a few months and come back in the arms of some hunk.” She giggled. “You’re going to give your father another heart attack, Rosaline.”
“Speaking of, where is he? I should go see him.”
She waved me off, calling out for the housekeeper again. “Why don’t you get settled first? Clean up, have something to eat. Your father can wait a bit. Melissa will go retrieve your bags from the car.”
Dex shook his head. “No, please. I’ve got them.” He addressed Melissa directly before returning back out of the front door.
“What a gentleman.” Valerie giggled again.
I ignored her. “I’m guessing we’re stationed in my old bedroom?”
She paused. “I’m not so sure your father would approve of you two staying in the same room.”
“Well I guess it’s a good thing I don’t care what he approves of then,” I lied.
Dex returned with our bags and I grabbed my suitcase out of his hand before grabbing his arm. “Let’s go.”
My childhood bedroom was the same as it always was. Cream colored walls tastefully decorated with various random artworks and pristine white furniture, topped with the few valuables I hadn’t deemed necessary to take to Miami with me. The room was completely free of dust, smelled like lemon cleaning products and the large canopy bed in the center of the room was perfectly made up.
My bedroom, the space I spent very little of my time since my initial arrival at the Reed family estate, was completely bare of any sort of personality. I had bedrooms all over the world, California, the south of France, New York, even the English countryside, all of them filled with the best furniture, clothes, and accessories money could buy, but I absolutely hated them. I couldn’t wait to be back in Miami, lounging around Dex’s house or my dingy little apartment. The only two places that really felt like home.
“This is… Nice,” Dex tried to compliment the ornate bedroom but I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. It was cold, lonely, and completely depressing. There were no posters or family pictures, nothing to indicate anyone had ever really lived there.
“I’m going to shower.” I dropped my suitcase and pushed past him into the in-suite bathroom, desperately needing the few minutes of alone time a shower would provide me.
I couldn’t have described that night’s dinner if I was tortured for the answer. Dex, Valerie, and I sat at the large dining room table consuming a well-made but unmemorable meal over dramatic candlelight. In between the awkward silences, Val asked Dex and I all types of questions about life in Miami. After turning her nose up at Dex’s admission that he was a painter and I his assistant, she stuck to questions about the weather and nightlife, prattling off a list of upscale Miami restaurants she’d heard great things about.
Dex handled the entire thing perfectly. He was cordial, polite, and ready to answer her questions with an informational tone. He smiled through the entire conversation, his cheeks dimpling every time, but I could see the strain around his eyes and the slight clenching of his jaw.
I kept my end of the conversation short, speaking only when spoken too and taking care not to mention too much about my personal life in Miami. I didn’t want to share those things Valer
ie or anyone else in the house. Miami was mine. I wouldn’t have them tarnish the life I made there with their displeasure.
My leg shook up and down continuously throughout the meal, I was eager to see my father. Not to embrace him or even check on his condition, but to understand why he asked to see me.
A large part of me still wished his near-death experience incited a newfound need in him to apologize for the way he had treated me. He was my father, I wasn’t sure if I could ever fully stop seeking his love. While my heart constricted at the thought of possibly having a relationship with him, my head knew I couldn’t get my hopes up. There was something he wanted, some piece of my life and my livelihood he wanted to take away from me. That had to have been the only reason he asked for me.
Another women, older with graying hair and a pair of blue scrubs entered the dining room. “He’s awake, Mrs. Reed,” she spoke to Valerie. “I’ve told him his daughter is here.” She looked over at me and smiled a bit. “He wants to see her.”
I shot up out of my seat. “Take me to him.”
The woman nodded before leading me up the stairs to one of the many spare bedrooms.
“Don’t get him too excited, he’s still very weak,” she spoke before walking back the way we came.
I took a deep breath before opening the door, preparing myself for what was about to come.
Even weak, post heart attack, and bed-ridden, my father’s presence was foreboding. His blonde hair was slightly messier and his normally tanned skin seemed pale and gray. A dark part of me reveled at how bad he looked.
He set down the newspaper he was reading and took the reading glasses off of his nose. “Rosaline, my girl!” he exclaimed, shocking me. “Come here.” He patted the space next to him on the plush bed.
I planned to keep my distance, hoping that staying as far from him as I possibly could while in the same room would allow me to keep my wits about me. My feet moved on their own, carrying me over to where he sat.
“Hello, Dad.” My voice was shaky.
My father reached out to pat my hand, his palm weak and clammy. “Valerie tells me you’ve been in Miami.”
