***
“You’re stressed,” Rose observes, propping herself up on one elbow to peer down at me. She plays with my hair as she lays out on her stomach, her ankles crossed while she lifts her feet into the air. “I take it the meeting didn’t go well?”
We’d left school at lunch to go to the meeting. I’m pretty certain Arthur made it midday purely to make it look bad that we were leaving school under my mother’s watch. But there was no way on earth I was letting her go to face him alone. She’d have been in tears and agreeing to his every demand in minutes. Arthur had attacked her, twisted words and events, made her sound like an unfit, fragile individual, incapable of raising children.
“Arthur brought up Mom’s drinking. Made it appear that if we didn’t drop our vendetta and agree to his terms, she’d lose her parental rights.”
“Could that happen?” Rose asks quietly.
After running a hand over my face, I gaze into her eyes and let her see my fears. “I honestly don’t know. Grayson doesn’t share the same fears.”
“Gray’s also very good at hiding what he really thinks,” she adds.
“I know. But… this is important to him too. We’re important to him. I can’t see him betting on our lives if he wasn’t sure.”
“Do you remember when I first came here and the pair of you were so far from the brothers you are now?”
“It’s crazy, right? In such a short space of time, we’ve come together.” I cup her cheek, brushing my thumb over her bottom lip. “I think you helped us come together a little bit too.”
“Me?”
I nod. “He cares about you, you know.”
“Yeah… I do.”
“I should be jealous, pissed off even, but I’m not. I don’t blame him. You’re hard not to love.”
Bending forward, she presses her mouth to mine, breathing her word into my mouth, “Charmer.”
Smiling against her lips, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her fully on top of me. It still kicks me in the gut every time this girl smiles down at me with lust, love, and excitement, as if I’m the only guy in the world she wants. It took me a while to stop worrying obsessively about her and treating her like she might break, but she needed me to see her as the strong person I know she is. And when I did, the pain in her eyes slowly began to lift.
Our kiss soon turns heated. Rose is restless above me, her fingers skimming under my white tee, pushing the fabric up, skirting softly over my skin, causing all my muscles to tighten and clench.
Biting back a groan, I struggle to control my need for her. We’ve kissed and fondled since Declan, but Rose hasn’t taken it any further, and I won’t be pushing her to. I’ll wait a lifetime if I have too; she’s worth it.
But today there’s an urgency to her that wasn’t there before, a hitch to her breath that says she’s losing herself in the heat that sparks between us. My T-shirt is up my chest, being pulled over my head.
“Rose?” I grunt, struggling to think straight as her lips kiss and suck their way down my body. “Rose, you’ve got to go home soon.”
Rising up, her hands on the top button of my jeans, her smile grows wicked, alluring, and damn, if I didn’t already love her, I’d have fallen in love again in that moment. “Haven’t you worked it out yet, Ash? You are my home.”
There’s no stopping my moan as she tugs my jeans down and frees me. I’m a goner, crazed, high on her.
She’s pulling up her dress, tossing the material aside, revealing herself in all her perfect glory, and it takes all my effort to not come at the sight of her.
“Are you sure?” I ask, voice a gravelly rasp.
“We’ve already wasted so much time, Ash. I don’t want him to win. He doesn’t get to steal this from me too.”
She leads and I let her have her way. Let her control our every move.
It’s magic. It’s everything. It’s fate.
Chapter 40
Rose
I spent the night at the penthouse again. I’d move in if I could. Dinner with Summer, Ash, Gray, and Josh is like stumbling across a dream I was never even aware of wanting. I can see why Grayson wants to stay. Who would want to leave the warmth and love this family shares?
I wonder if Summer will adopt me too? Though that would make Ash my stepbrother. Hmm…maybe not.
“What are you thinking about?” Ashton asks as he spoons me from behind, his arms a big warm cage protecting me from the world.
Giving myself to Ashton last night was my final step to moving on. I’d wanted to many times before, but fear had clouded my mind, memories of Declan’s poison whispering through my head. It’s not that I don’t trust Ashton. But while he’s hurt me in the past and betrayed me, I think even as we hated each other, I knew deep down, no matter what, he’d have come if I’d called. And when it mattered most, he was by my side, my strength through every awful minute after the attack.
We’ve had our reasons for being apart, made our mistakes, and taking that next step was about putting more than Declan in the past. He’d been gentle and sweet and allowed me to take control. His every move had been with me in mind, until the horrors inside my head were drowned out by pleasure and love.
“That I don’t want to go home,” I murmur, kissing his arm.
“It’s six in the morning, Rose. You didn’t go home.” He laughs.
Rolling over in his arms, I rub my nose against his, then place a gentle kiss on the end of it. “I meant ever.” His eyes widen just a touch. “Too soon to move in together?” I ask, raising a brow.
Smiling, Ashton claims my mouth, drowning out the noise in my head for a moment before we break for air. “Are you kidding? I’d love to wake up every morning and have you as the first face I see.”
“But?”
“But I’m not sure my mom would be up for that. She’s been pretty lenient as it is. I keep waiting for her to say something, plus I’d like your mother to not hate me.”
Screwing up my nose, I sigh deeply. “I couldn’t give a crap what my bloody mother thinks.”
“Say bloody mother again,” he teases. “You’re so sexy when you’re being British.”
“I jolly well despise her,” I joke, using my best posh accent.
Rolling onto his back, Ashton clutches his chest, laughing. “God, I love you,” he gasps between laughs.
“Morning, children,” Grayson greets, bursting into the room and flinging himself onto the bed.
“Do you ever knock?” Ashton growls. “We could have been busy.”
He shrugs. “Was kinda hoping to get a glimpse of our girl actually,” he teases.
“My girl,” Ashton states.
Smacking Grayson, I shake my head. “What do you want, Gray?”
“To tell you to get your fine butt out of here before Summer gets up. She asked if you’d gone home last night and I lied for you.” He taps a finger to his cheek. “Say thank you.”
“I’m not kissing you, Gray,” I reply with an eye roll. “And you can leave now, so that I can get dressed.”
He waggles his eyebrows stupidly, eyeing my form beneath the duvet. “Why, are you naked under there?”
“Gray!” Ashton warns. “I’m not above kicking your ass.”
“All right, all right.” Grayson chuckles. “Jeez, bro, can’t a guy have a little fun?”
Once the door shuts behind him, I slip out from beneath the covers and pull my dress back over my head and hunt around for my underwear.
“Have you seen my knickers?” I mutter, bending down to look under the bed.
“Knickers?” He smirks.
“Panties… whatever.”
Pushing back the duvet, Ashton crawls his glorious self to the end of the bed and then swings said panties from the end of his finger, but I’m too distracted by the naked view in front of me to care about underwear anymore.
“Head out the gutter, Rose,” he says, flicking my pants at me.
“What time does your mum normally get up,” I ask, glancing at his bedside
clock.
“Too soon unfortunately, babe,” he answers, sitting back and covering himself up.
“Shame.” I sigh. “Sex with you would really brighten my day.”
He chuckles. “There’s still plenty of hours left in the day, Rose.”
“True.” I grin, closing the space between us to kiss him goodbye. “I’ll see you at school.”
“Want us to have Taylor swing by and collect you?” he asks.
“No, that’s okay. I told Pen I’d meet her for breakfast.”
“Okay, bye, babe.” He kisses me lightly. “I love you.”
Three simple words, but they hold the weight of the world. They warm me, soothe the wounds inside me. They are my calling home.
“I love you, too.”
***
“I rang you eight times last night,” my mother snaps as I walk through the apartment door.
“And messaged four. Wow, Mother, this must be a new record of caring for you.”
“Drop the attitude, Rose. It’s beneath you.”
Ignoring her, I walk past to my bedroom and begin collecting my things for a shower and get ready for school. She follows, much to my dismay, her annoyance rolling off her in waves.
“I did send you a text saying I was staying with Ash,” I mutter.
“And since when was it okay for you to stay overnight doing God knows what with a boy?”
Entering my bathroom, I turn in the doorway, closing the door so that just my head pops out. “You didn’t care what I was doing when you were pimping me out to a rapist,” I say, my tone far milder than my words.
She physically flinches, as if my words have lashed her across the face, but I can’t find even a shred of guilt for throwing them at her. Whenever I’m near her, rage builds inside me, and all of the times she asked me for something when it was for her benefit not mine replays on a loop in my head. She twisted my mind, made it so that I ignored my instincts just to keep her happy, all so she could make a name for herself. And the thing that I hate the most is that she still won.
The paper wrote a brilliant piece on the masquerade ball, printing the picture of me with Elizabeth and Declan, and his mother had nothing but good words to say about mine, because she had no choice but to be nice for fear of the public finding out the truth about her vile, rapist son.
She won and I lost. And I might always hate her for it.
Slamming the door, her reply comes through the wood quietly, “Are you ever going to forgive me for that night?”
Closing my eyes, I press a hand to the wood, listening to her heavy breaths on the other side. She’s upset, and I think genuinely sorry, but I can’t lie. “I’m not sure, Mum.”
Our conversation ends there and when I exit my bathroom, it’s to find the apartment empty, a pastry and a thermos of coffee on the kitchen island waiting for me.
Picking up the cinnamon swirl, I take a large bite and wash it down with coffee as a call comes through from the concierge.
Frowning, I answer, “Hello?”
“Miss Devenport, this is the front desk.”
“Yes?”
“There’s a man in reception asking for Rose Keeley. Should I let him up?”
My frown deepens. “Erm… yes, I suppose so.”
Stuffing the sweet treat into my mouth, I make my way slowly to the door, waiting for whomever is here to arrive at my door.
“Rose Keeley?” a man says as I open the door and stare at him. He looks to be in his late forties, dark hair going slightly gray along the edges, expensive suit telling me he makes good money, whomever he is.
“Yes?”
He lifts up a file, then glances from it and back to me twice. I follow his line of sight to find a picture of myself on there, fastened by a paperclip onto the front.
“Wait, why do you have a picture of me?” I ask, pastry and coffee forgotten.
“I was given it and this file by your father and instructed I give it only to you.”
Confusion and pain roll through me. “But my father’s in prison.”
“Yes, miss. And after I saw him, I boarded the next flight out.”
It’s only now that I register his British accent. “You came all this way to give me a file? What’s in it?”
He hands me the file and then pulls a letter with my father’s handwriting on the front from his suit pocket. “He’s written you a letter explaining what’s in the file. I do not know what is inside, only that what it is very important and shouldn’t find its way into the wrong hands.”
Wrong hands?
He backs away, leaving me even more bewildered than before he’d spoken. “Wait! That’s it, you give me this stuff and just leave with no explanation?” I blink rapidly, wondering whether I’m imagining him and have given into madness.
“I’ve done what has been instructed of me. Your father assured me it would all be in the letter. Goodbye, miss.”
Somehow, I make my way back inside and slump onto the sofa, staring at my name written in my father’s distinctive handwriting. What was so important that he paid someone to fly it to me personally? And why me, why not Mother?
I contemplate calling Ashton and asking him to come over before I open it, and then get angry at myself for being so stupid. It’s just a letter. How bad can it be? Sliding my finger under the envelope, I tear it open and pull the letter out. My heart is hammering in my chest before I even begin reading, and as I do, it pounds so hard it’s a wonder it doesn’t burst.
Rose,
After I received your letter, I had to do all I could to reach out to you. Oh, darling, how I wish I could hold you in my arms and make everything okay for you. But all I can do is give you, the only person left on this planet who I trust, my final secrets and hope it somehow helps you through your struggles.
You see, my sweet girl, our family has been tangled within Arthur Bishop’s web from the very beginning. I warn you to take your steps carefully, evaluate whether his sons are really who they say they are, and then decide whether the contents of the file will help you all.
In the very beginning, when I started my first company with Graham Bishop, I didn’t have the capitol to put forward. My plan was to go to the bank and get a loan, but then Arthur stepped forward with a far more appealing offer. He wanted to be a silent partner and if I agreed to keep his involvement a secret, he’d front my side of the costs, no questions asked. I’d thought the deal too good to be true and indeed, in the end, it was, but Arthur is a master at manipulating, and he’d convinced me his wish was only to see his brother succeed but that Graham was too proud to accept his older brother’s help.
And so, the years went by, the company grew, we were a success, until we weren’t, until I realized Arthur had been funneling money out of the business, taking our clients’ investments, until we were all but bankrupt. He was smart about it though. He made it seem that I was the one who did it, but he also covered his tracks enough that there’d never be enough evidence for the authorities to pin the crimes on anyone.
The years went by, we moved on, but I could never forget what he’d done. For years I have looked for enough evidence to prove what he did, and I haven’t nearly found enough to put Arthur away, but maybe, just maybe, it might be enough to free his sons from his grip.
I know you, Rose, and you might not have said the words, but you love Ashton. I think you fell when you were just a kid. Love like that is rare, darling, rare and precious. Don’t let anyone, not even your mother, take that away from you.
I hope I’ve helped. I hope I haven’t just given you more burdens to carry, and I hope when I see you again, you’re happy and free.
All my love,
Dad x
My hands tremble as I open the file and flick through the contents. None of it makes sense to me. It’s above my comprehension, but I know without a doubt that Ashton and Grayson are who they say they are and if it can help them, I have to give it to them.
Racing out of the apartment, I clutch the file
to my chest, my mind and body whirling. I jump into the hailed cab before it’s even stopped moving, shouting the hotel’s address, making the driver spin around in his seat and glare at me.
On the drive over, I text both Ash and Gray, telling them to wait for me and not go to school. I’m nervous and excited, a jumpy, coiled mess, not sure if I’m sitting on a secret that could free them all from Arthur’s clutches.
As soon as the cab pulls up outside of the hotel, I throw money at the driver, not even counting how much it is, and leap from the back seat, running up the steps and through the hotel doors that are opened for me. The concierge balks as I race past, used to seeing me by now, but maybe not used to me running through the hotel lobby like someone’s chasing me.
“Miss Keeley? Miss Keeley, wait.”
I don’t though. I pick up speed, preparing to slam my hand on the elevator button when it opens and Ashton and Grayson step out at the same time, frowns creasing their brows. I crash into Ashton’s body, his laughter startled as he stumbles back, arms wrapping around me.
“Rose, what’s going on?” Grayson barks, not as amused with my theatrics as Ashton.
“My father… he… he had… this delivered…,” I gasp between breathes. “It’s… he says it… might help you.”
Ashton draws me back into the elevator, Grayson following as he takes the file I slap onto his chest in confusion.
“I don’t understand,” Grayson mumbles.
“There’s a letter too,” I answer, holding it out. “I don’t understand the documents inside the file, but the letter says it was your father who stole the money from your uncle’s business when we were kids.”
When Grayson doesn’t move to take the letter, Ashton does, and he looks from me to the letter. “Can I?”
I nod. “Go ahead.”
The elevator opens onto the penthouse and we step out but move no further. Grayson is silently leafing through the documents in the file, the lines in his brow becoming deeper and deeper as he does, and Ashton is reading my father’s words with a mixture of disbelief and pain.
Eventually, they both look up, eye me, and then each other and silently swap what they were reading.
I wait, buzzing with nervous energy, anxious I’m overreacting, worried I raced over here like a crazy person only to be told I’m as insane as my criminal father, but when they both eventually finish, smiles morph their faces.
The Resurrection of Us: A High School Bully Romance (Albany Nightingale Duet Book 2) Page 21
