Of course, I’m trying to focus on the “push,” because I don’t want to get closer to Bex or continue torturing myself with fantasies, which is why I bat my eyelashes at Waylon and give in to the ambiance, the perfect day, and the gorgeous man sitting in front of me.
“Something sweeter, huh? So what do you have in mind?” I ask.
His brown eyes light up. “Sky’s the limit, Rose. You want to take a tour of every romantic plaza in a ten-mile radius, lick fifty flavors of gelato, or take a three-hour bubble bath—I’m game for anything as long as it’s with you, baby.”
With a grin, I furrow my brows. “Waylon, you’re laying it on a little thick. Don’t you think?”
He leans in closer from across the small table for two. “Not at all, Rose. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met.”
I laugh and shake my head toward the sky. I mean, cheese? “I think the legendary art has gotten to your head today.” Can’t say I blame him. This place, that museum, the country: magical.
“Rose.” He grabs my hand. “I’m not joking. I have never felt like this about anyone.”
I slide my hand away. Even I know he’s putting on the player moves. “Waylon, you’re about to ruin a very perfect day with a giant load of bullshit. Please don’t.”
He straightens his back. “What’s it going to take to make you believe me?”
I shrug. “I don’t have a pre-calculated answer for you. There’s a lot that goes into relationship, and we hardly know each other.” Plus, I’ve learned my lesson about jumping into things, specifically opening my heart. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to have relationships. I do. Just like the Boyfriend Collector, who lived for the experiences in life rather than focusing on goals. Still, that doesn’t mean I’m going to trust Waylon. Something feels off.
He scratches his chin. “How about if I tell you the truth.”
Okay… “About what?”
“Everything. I’m going to lay all my cards on the table and tell you everything—stuff not even my sister knows.”
I don’t like the sound of this. Mostly because he’s making a production out of it, and that means there’s a lot he’s been hiding. I knew it.
“I think this is a good time to call an end to our date.” I move to stand, but he reaches out and latches onto my arm.
“Rose, just hear me out. At the very least, you’ll be clearing my conscience, and the information might help you stay alive.”
My blood turns cold, and I slowly drop back into my seat. What the hell is he talking about? “I’m…I’m all ears.”
CHAPTER NINE
Bex
I’m sitting in my office, eating lunch and reviewing patient files, when my assistant, Hailey, pops her head inside.
“Dr. Hughes? Rose Hale is here. She says it’s urgent.”
My back goes ramrod straight. I’ve been on edge ever since I left her place last week, but I’ve been trying to give her space. Honestly, I was just happy she decided to leave the country—at least, that’s what I told myself as I tried not to think about her meeting more men in Italy. She’s stunning, and I bet she turned a lot of heads.
Don’t think about it.
“Yes,” I tell Hailey, “send Rose in.” It has to be important if she didn’t bother to call first.
“Great.”
Hailey leaves, and I hear her speak to Rose, who appears a few moments later. She enters the room, and it’s like being hit with a shock wave that ripples through every nerve ending.
She. Looks. Radiant. A bit of a tan on her cheeks, pink lips, and her blonde hair in a braid down the side of her neck. She’s wearing a short pale-yellow sweater dress and brown leather boots.
New clothes. Probably purchased in Italy. It pleases me that she’s doing things for herself. I know she’s not used to spending money on anything but the bare essentials. I realized it after we met for a second time and she had on the same outfit. Not that a woman can’t wear the same thing twice, but this was the very next day.
I stand from my desk. “Rose, nice to see you as always.” I gesture for her to take a seat.
“I’m sorry to barge in.” She plunks down on the sofa, and I sit in my leather armchair.
“It’s fine. I meant what I said about being here for you.”
She exhales. “I know, and I’m sorry about the way things went when we saw each other last week. It’s just…” Her voice fades off, and she stares down at her hands.
“You don’t need to explain if it makes you feel uncomfortable.” I’m just glad she’s here. There are so many things I want to say, starting with I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking marrying her and telling myself I could keep my distance. I can’t, and I don’t know what that means for our arrangement or relationship.
“No. It’s not that.” She shakes her head.
I wait patiently for her to find her words. I hope to God she’s not going to tell me about some guy she slept with. Please don’t let it be that.
“You didn’t go out with another hit man, did you?” I joke.
“Worse, I think.”
Fuck. She’s serious. “What happened?”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“Anywhere. Start anywhere.” I hold back my urge to go ballistic. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let her go anywhere without me.
“I went out with a guy in Italy. I actually met him here in Atlanta and…he’s…” She runs a hand over the top of her head. “He knows Gustavo. They’re associates or something.”
What the hell? “Did he try to hurt you?”
She shakes her head no. “He says Gustavo is calling in favors, though. A big job for a million dollars. I’m the job, in case you were wondering.”
I push back into my seat. I knew this wasn’t over, but hearing it said out loud doesn’t make it any easier.
“We need to call the police,” I say.
“Waylon says it wouldn’t do much good. The only thing keeping me alive is that there aren’t any takers. No one believes Gustavo has the money to pay them.”
His name is Waylon. I note it for when I call and report this. “You think we can just trust that? Who the hell is this Waylon guy, anyway?”
She scratches her forehead. “He’s a thief.”
Wonderful. Fucking wonderful. “As in cars? Jewelry? What?”
“Anything. Just as long as his clients pay him well. He was actually there in Italy to steal a painting. A Botticelli.”
Holy fuck. “Rose, how the hell did you get mixed up with this guy? What were you thinking?”
“Don’t, okay? He delivered flowers to my house. I thought he was just some nerdy art student who won tickets to Italy in some radio contest.” She holds up her hand. “And before you point out how ridiculous I am for believing his story, I’ll remind you that I basically grew up in a bubble. I thought he was a nice guy, and I wasn’t wrong.”
“Nice? He steals for a living.”
“At least he doesn’t kill people,” she mutters.
Wow. Nice to know her bar is so high. “Did you ask yourself how he knows Gustavo?”
“No, I asked him. Apparently Gustavo had him steal some evidence one time. Or ten.”
I hang my head.
She continues, “Then Gustavo asked him to deliver flowers to me one day because Gustavo was busy on a job and knew Waylon was in Atlanta. He offered a favor in the future.”
“To fucking kill someone? In exchange for bringing you flowers?”
“Waylon said he would never do that, but no one refuses to do a favor for a guy like Gustavo.”
“So why did he tell you all this, Rose? What did he want in return?”
“For me to trust him. He says he’s in love with me.”
Like hell. “He doesn’t even know you.”
She nods. “He does come off as a little intense, but it meant a lot that he would come clean…”
It only lasts a moment, but there’s a flash of something in her eyes.
A twinkle of affection, like she’s remembering something wonderful.
“You slept with him, didn’t you?” My anger is no longer caged. I stand and point a finger in her face. “Goddammit, Rose. What the fuck?”
Her mouth goes from relaxed to hard, but she doesn’t speak. Not a word. She says it all with her eyes: She doesn’t need my judgment or reprimand. In fact, I’m breaking her trust again, which is the whole reason she went alone to Italy in the first place. If I keep doing it, she’s going to walk away from me forever.
The hard part is I don’t know where to go from here. I can’t keep my end of the deal and just sit on the sidelines of her life any longer. I love her too much.
I take a calming breath and try to reel myself in. Try. Not sure I’m doing such a great job.
“Rose, you need to understand something.” I take a seat and crane my neck to look at the ceiling. “While I’m all for you exploring the world that was kept from you, I don’t think I can do this anymore.” I look her in the eyes. “We need to discuss new rules.”
“Why?”
“Because…because…” My jealousy is burning a hole inside me. “You’re putting yourself in danger, and it worries me.”
“So let me guess; you think you can control me and dictate how I live my life, even if it’s the one thing you promised you’d never try to do.”
“The situation has changed. Things can’t go on like they have.”
“You mean, you’re finally going to stop treating me like your responsibility, because that’s all I am to you, right? Just someone to look after. A patient.”
I don’t know what to make of her question. I don’t want to reply in a way that will derail her plans. She needs to find herself if she’s ever going to be free. I also don’t want to lie to her. Part of me wants to come clean just like that Waylon guy did. I love you. I’d take you as my real wife right here and now, and God fucking help me, because I don’t want to share you with any man.
“You know you’re more to me than just a patient, Rose.”
She stares expectantly, but I decide to leave it at that. Holding in my true emotions feels like holding back an overflowing river pounding against a dam that’s about to burst.
“All right, friend,” she says, “then let’s talk turkey.”
Rose
I know I fucked up by trusting a stranger again. I never should have met up with Waylon, but if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have realized just how bad the situation is and how determined these assholes are. Yeah, I know my grandparents aren’t going to give up, but now it seems Gustavo is trying to finish the job for them from behind bars.
How is this not over? I mean, the man was arrested! My grandparents must’ve offered him a whole helluva lot of money. The good news is that no one seems to want the contract. Gustavo’s credibility is shot.
Still, I’m frazzled by it all. No, not frazzled. In shock. Imagine knowing that the people who raised you want you dead. It’s just horrible. A nightmare. It chills my bones. But then to hear there is a person out there shopping around your death? Hey, who wants to kill Rose Hale? I’ll pay you a million. Any takers?
They’re animals. Yet, somehow, Waylon feels like a guardian angel. Or maybe he’s part angel part devil, with one foot in the land of compassion and another foot in the shade. The best way to explain it is by summarizing what he said to me. Everything bad he’s ever done—lie, cheat, steal—was for his little sister, starting after their mother abandoned them. He promised his sister that he’d keep them together and keep her safe. Even now, after she’s grown up, he says he worries about what would happen if he weren’t around. He admits that he loves art and feels tempted by the challenge of stealing the impossible, like The Birth of Venus, but he always chickens out. He worries what will happen to his sister if he got caught. So yeah, he does bad things, but I’d trust him over my own family. I’d trust him over most people. Everyone except Bex. Until this moment.
I had wanted to tell Bex everything that happened between Waylon and me, but the moment Bex decided I did something wrong and yelled at me… Ugh. How can I not be upset? He promised not to judge and to be there unconditionally, but his words just now were an insult. I’m not a child to be scolded. I thought maybe things would be different after last week’s fight, but no.
What hurts most of all is that I was about to tell him how I really feel, for no other reason than Bex deserves honesty from me, like I deserve from him. It was what Waylon helped me realize after talking about what he and his sister went through to stay together. “Some bonds define your entire life,” he said. I’m beginning to feel that the same holds true for me and Bex. He changed my life. He’s looked out for me and has been there. It hasn’t been easy, but the connection, at least for me, is not going away, and it scares the hell out of me. I don’t like feeling vulnerable.
But now our trust is being shattered by his broken promises. I should be sad, but I’m not. I’m just pissed off.
“Rose?” Bex is still frowning, but his voice is calm again. “I’m listening.”
“I think you were right. About the sex getting better, I mean.”
Bex’s face turns into an ice sculpture. “Oh?”
“Yeah, it was…phenomenal.”
“That’s good news, Rose. And is there any reason in particular you mention this?”
How does Bex do it? His wall is up again, all emotion tucked safely away. But I know he’s sitting there thinking I need another judgmental scolding.
I shrug. “Nope. Just wanted you to know you were right. And apparently Waylon has a lot of experience because he held out for hours. Honestly, though, it was all the stuff he did before the actual fucking that I enjoyed most—covering the bed with rose petals, massaging my naked body with this sweet-smelling oil he made just for me from ten different flowers.” I sigh for effect. “I didn’t know I could come so hard just by getting finger fucked, but he knew just how to hit that spot. Deep. Deep inside me, Bex. I was so wet for him after that, I let him put his cock in my mouth and do pretty much anything else he wanted.” Damn. I know I’m saying all this to push his decency buttons and make a point—he doesn’t own me—but the entire time I’m talking, I’m fantasizing about doing each and every one of these things with Bex—his hands rubbing oil on my bare breasts, the length of his naked body pressing against me while his fingers explore and penetrate and massage my clit until I’m begging him to fuck me and come inside me. I imagine his hard cock sliding past my lips and making him groan while I cup his balls. I like the male form. Maybe more than other women because I’ve been deprived of it. Either way, the thought of holding his dick in my hand and exploring his body excites me.
Suddenly, I’m turned on. I want to slide off my panties, lie back, and invite him to ease the quiet, insane tension building in my pussy.
I look at Bex and notice his face is a little flushed and he’s staring at the space between my knees.
Ohgod. I realize my legs are open just a little wider than they should be, like my body decided what it wanted and sent him an invitation to look up my short dress.
Embarrassed, I quickly shift my weight and clamp my thighs shut. Fuck. That didn’t help. I’m aching down there, and being in the same room with him isn’t going to change that.
When I look at Bex’s flushed face again, his expression is still unreadable. I’m glad because it’s keeping me from having to say something. Just like it never happened.
“I hope you’re being—” his voice crackles and he clears his throat “—safe.”
“Oh, um…sure.” I clear my throat, too. I need to clear the awkwardness from the room. This is painful. “We were safe. Locked the door and everything,” I joke in a deadpan.
Bex’s emotional force field flickers for a moment. “Rose, please tell me you’re joking. Please tell me you’ve been using condoms.”
His brain must not be plugged in or it’s off somewhere else if he doesn’t realize I was kidding.
“Con
doms…?” I reply dryly.
He narrows his eyes.
Why’s he not getting this? “Oh, you mean like those little pills men take right before sex so they can’t get you pregnant? Yes. Every guy I’ve been with took one.” I shrug for effect. “It sort of looks like a Tic Tac, but they all promised it would work. Besides, no one ever never came inside me.” I look Bex right in the eyes. “I can’t get pregnant from swallowing cum, right? Or from getting it on my back?”
Bex’s expression goes from neutral to irate. “Rose, goddammit, this isn’t a joke.” He stands. “Time for you to leave.”
Ah. He finally caught on. I guess my little story must’ve distracted him. But why? Was he imagining doing those things to me, just like I imagined it was him?
At the drop of a hat, I’m back to fantasy mode. The thought of him sitting there, listening to my sexual fantasy and thinking of me, is too arousing to handle. Of course, I know he wasn’t. Probably stewing over how reckless my behavior was.
Bex clears his throat again, the awkwardness still lingering in the air. “My next patient will be here any minute, so it’s time for you to leave anyway.” He walks over to the door and opens it. “Call me when you’re really ready to talk about the new ground rules. And please, don’t go anywhere until the bodyguards arrive to your apartment.”
I frown. “Sorry, but I don’t agree. No new rules.” They’re the only thing keeping me sane right now. Even if I don’t want someone else, I’m not going to give up any of my hard-earned freedom just to appease his hero complex. I need that separation. “Also, I cancelled the security service.”
“Yes. I’m aware of that, which is why I’m putting them back.”
My mouth falls open. “That isn’t your decision. They cost five thousand dollars a day. I can’t throw away money like that.” Hell, I’m still shopping at thrift stores because I can’t bring myself to spend money on myself. My yellow dress and brown boots were a great find in the Florence market I ran into.
The Boyfriend Collector, Two Page 8
