Rose
“Are you avoiding me on purpose or what?”
I clutch my cell close to my ear as I slip out of bed quietly, not wanting to disturb Caden, who’s sleeping peacefully in my bed. We stayed up late into the night, doing what we do best.
Sex. And lots of it.
Sneaking into the bathroom, I close the door with a soft click and crawl into the giant sunken tub, curling up inside and leaning my head against the cool, smooth edge. “What are you talking about?” I ask Violet.
“I’ve been trying to call you for days, Rose. The last time we talked was Tuesday, and that was almost a week ago. I thought you were dead! The only thing that gave me reassurance was the fact that you returned Ryder’s texts yesterday.” Violet sounds completely put out.
Not that I can blame her. I have been avoiding her. And Ryder tricked me with those texts, asking innocent work-type questions he really had no business asking. I replied automatically, then wondered at my mistake because I knew my sister would be calling eventually. I avoid her like the plague, but not Ryder? I blew it there.
And here she is. Calling me just as predicted. Though I don’t want to tell her anything. Caden is my secret, and I’m keeping him and what we’ve been doing all to myself.
“Your future husband is a dirty trickster,” I tell her, skimming my fingernails down my thigh, tracing the little bruises that Caden put there a few days ago. They’re small and a purplish red and they don’t really hurt, but he did that with his fingers, gripping me so tight when he fucked me against the wall that he marked my skin.
He got upset when he saw the bruises, but I love them. He marked me. It felt so primitive and possessive, seeing those fingerprints on my skin. I’ve never been a man’s possession before.
But I feel like his. And he feels like mine.
“I’m the one who texted you from Ryder’s phone,” Violet admits.
“So you’re the dirty trickster, then.” I should’ve known.
Violet sighs, sounding sad and irritated and frustrated. I’m sure she’s feeling all three, and the expected guilt comes at me full force. “Father won’t leave me alone, calling me all the time asking about you. He’s worried.”
“What about? If he has questions, why doesn’t he call me himself?”
“Because he knows you’re avoiding everyone, so he thought he could get to you through me,” she explains wearily.
“Well, he shouldn’t bother you.” I feel bad. Violet is having to deflect him for me and I didn’t mean to put her in that position. “Next time you hear from him, just tell him to call me. When I see it’s him, I’ll answer.”
“You promise?” Violet sounds skeptical.
“Swear.” Daddy’s going to burst my bubble and bring me back to reality, but I guess I have to return sometime. This thing with Caden can’t last forever. It’s been fun, though. He’s fun. Though a little closed off.
Okay, fine, a lot closed off. But he’s so good with his hands and mouth and tongue that I let that all go.
Mostly.
“You didn’t tell me you tried to give notice,” she says, her voice soft. Deceptively calm. I’m sure she’s furious with me.
I sigh. “I knew you’d flip, so I kept it to myself.”
“But why? Why are you doing this? Why are you giving up so easily?”
“I have my reasons.” Reasons I’m starting to doubt. Why did I give him my notice anyway? And why did I send my lame attempt at giving notice to Daddy via an email a few days ago that I knew would make him so mad? It was a bad move. An impulsive move. And I’m rarely impulsive.
Funny, since I met Caden, I’ve become even more impulsive.
“What have you been doing anyway?” Violet asks. “Now that you’re no longer working for Fleur.”
I wish I could tell her. But I’ll probably shock the hell out of her, so I restrain myself.
Nothing much. I barely leave the hotel room. Caden is with me and we are constantly, and I mean constantly, fucking. He’s amazing. I’ve never had so many orgasms. We had to buy the economy-sized box of condoms and I got embarrassed when he set it on the counter at the drugstore. Oh, and he’s so sweet. Attentive. Funny. Infuriating. We argue; he says something stupid and I want to hit him. And then the next minute, I’m on my knees in front of him, kissing and sucking his cock and enjoying every single second of it, too. There’s nothing I like better than servicing my man.
Does that make me sound ridiculous? Wait. Don’t answer that.
Yeah. I can’t tell her what I’ve been doing. She’ll flip out.
“I’ve been exploring London,” I say. That’s code for “I’ve been exploring Caden’s body.” “I’ve learned a lot.” Like how he loves it when I lick his inner thighs. Well, he doesn’t really love it, more like he starts laughing because he’s ticklish there, and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Like what?” Violet asks.
“Uh …” That goose bumps race over Caden’s skin right before he comes. That he truly enjoys going down on a woman, specifically me. Oh, and that he dreams about me sometimes. I heard him say my name two nights ago but when I answered him he didn’t reply, and I realized he was asleep.
“You’re with that Caden guy, aren’t you?” she spits out, shocking me silent.
Well. I was already silent because I was scrambling to come up with something to say, but now I’m really quiet.
“Your silence is as good as an admittance of guilt,” Violet says. “I’ve been talking to Whitney. She says Caden went to her apartment Sunday, grabbed all of his stuff, and hasn’t been back since. Hasn’t called or texted her, either.”
Damn right he hasn’t called or been back, because he’s with me.
Oh, dear. I sound ridiculously possessive. What has this man done to me?
“Does she think he’s with me?” I ask nonchalantly.
“She has no idea where he is. I love Whit, but she’s kind of clueless sometimes.” Violet’s voice turns brisk. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is what are you doing, hanging out with him? You know nothing about him.”
“You’re right. I don’t.” I know plenty, but none of it is for public consumption.
“You don’t even know his last name,” she points out.
“I do, too. It’s Kingsley.” I clamp my lips shut, wishing I hadn’t said that. Not that she couldn’t have asked Whitney for that information, but now I’m afraid Violet will run off and do a Google search on him.
I should do a Google search on him, but I’m … scared. Of what I might find out. What if it’s bad? I’d rather exist in this blissful ignorant state. It’s nice here. Full of good food and sleep and lots of naked touching time. I like it.
I don’t want to end it.
You have to end it.
“Well, this Caden Kingsley person can’t be good for you. He’s encouraging you to ignore all of your responsibilities,” Violet says. “You need to come in to the office. I want to talk to you. Leaving Fleur is not the answer to your problems.”
“You’re the one who told me to let go and indulge in myself for a while,” I point out. “Now you’re nagging at me like an old maid.”
“I’m nagging you because I’m concerned,” she says. “You’re right. I told you to indulge in yourself and have a good time and all that nonsense, but I didn’t expect you to completely fall off the grid like you have.”
“It’s not going to be forever,” I say, my voice small, the sound echoing in the empty bathroom. “I plan on returning to New York … soon.”
“How soon? And are you going back to Fleur? Father didn’t take your notice seriously. He believes you’ll come back.”
That almost pisses me off, that Daddy didn’t take my giving notice seriously. But then again I shouldn’t be surprised. “I don’t know.” Plus, it all depends. How long is Caden staying in London? Is he eventually returning to New York? Would he want to—gasp—see me once we’re both in New York?
Probably not.
“Well, you’d better figure out a firmer answer than that, because that’ll be the first thing Father will ask you.” Violet pauses and when she resumes speaking, her voice is softer. Lower. “He has some news for you.”
Dread slithers down my spine, settling in an ice-cold pool in my stomach. “What sort of news?”
“I should let him tell you,” she says vaguely.
“No. Tell me, Violet. I want to know.” I think I already know, but I don’t want it to be true. It can’t be true …
“He asked her to marry him.” Violet releases a shuddering sigh. “She’s wearing a ring. One of Grandma’s old rings, a tacky-looking diamond that’s so large it doesn’t look real. A castoff. At least, that’s what Grandma called it. You know she hates Pilar as much as we do.”
I say nothing. What can I say? I knew this moment was coming, no matter how much I wanted to deny it. “I’m sure she’s getting the promotion then, too,” I finally say, my voice raspy, my throat dry.
“That hasn’t been formally announced yet, but I’m guessing the answer is yes. He’s willing enough to marry her, so I’m sure he’s more than willing to give her the coveted promotion,” Violet says snidely.
I wanted that promotion. My current position—or the position I left, that is—isn’t even a real one. It was created for me when I started working at Fleur full-time. I wanted to earn a vice-president position on my own merits. On my talents and the love and hard work I put into Fleur, not because I’m a Fowler.
And here’s Pilar, getting a promotion, getting an engagement ring … getting everything she wants. Stomping all over me in the process, too. I know she just about had a party when Violet left to work in London. Now she can get rid of me too and take over completely, standing right by Daddy’s side and waiting for the day he retires? I shouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
I turn and press my forehead against the wall of the tub, closing my eyes. Violet is still talking and she sounds so furious, so frustrated. I know it’s pointless to get so upset, to waste so much energy.
What’s done is done.
She catches my attention when she declares that she and Ryder have no plans to return to New York anytime soon. I open my eyes and sit straight up in the tub. “What do you mean, you’re not leaving London anytime soon?”
“We can’t go back there, not with Pilar. Ryder refuses to. There’s too much bad blood between them. Too much bad blood between us as well,” she adds.
“How can Daddy do this? Is he blind to all of the awful things she does? She’s tearing our family apart.” I told myself it didn’t matter, that I wouldn’t expend so much energy being upset over this, but I can feel the tears threatening. And I refuse to let them fall. “I hate her.”
“Maybe he’ll see one day,” Violet says softly, her voice choked with emotion too. “She makes him happy, Rose. We can’t deny him happiness.”
“You would say that,” I mutter with a wretched laugh that turns into a sob. I slap my hand over my mouth, trying to stop it, contain it, but it’s no use. The tears are flowing freely now. I wonder if I should tell her about our mother’s last few entries in her diary before she died. Violet deserves to know. But how can I say anything about them after the news she just delivered? The timing is all wrong. “I have to go,” I say with a loud sniff.
“Rose. Rosie. Don’t cry, sweetie. She’s not worth your tears, trust me.” Violet pauses, and I can practically see her brain scrambling as she tries to figure out what to say next. “You want me to come over? Or how about you come over to our place? I’ll take you out to dinner. You can spend the night and we can stay up late and watch movies. What do you think?”
“No. I’m fine. Really.” I wipe the tears from my face, rest my hand against my mouth and nose. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” I end the call and set the phone carefully on the side of the tub before I push myself out of it, going to the sink so I can splash cold water on my face.
But it doesn’t help. My cheeks are tinged with pink and my eyes are rimmed with red. I look miserable. I feel miserable.
It’s not even so much over the fact that our father actually wants to marry that bitch—though that sucks no matter which way you look at it—it’s the idea of me not feeling welcome at my family’s business. That I would rather walk away from my legacy than work with a woman I despise. Once Violet left, it’s as if everyone at Fleur forgot I existed, even our father. I wasn’t called into strategy meetings anymore. I attended the publicity events and that was it. I was bored. Unused. Frustrated.
I should go back. I can’t stand by and watch my father fall deeper and deeper into Pilar’s control, can I?
Leaning my hands on the edge of the sink, I peer at my reflection in the mirror, desperately looking for something. An answer, a solution, an idea … anything to help me figure out what I should do next.
But I see nothing. Just my pitiful face staring back at me, the remnants of my tears drying on my cheeks and the hopelessness in my eyes.
I push away from the sink with a little sound of frustration and exit the bathroom, returning to the bed to see that Caden hasn’t moved at all. He’s still sprawled on his stomach, his arms stretched up over his head, his left leg bent upward. The sheets lie across his lower back, revealing all that delicious muscled goodness, and the familiar tingle sweeps over my skin, setting me on fire.
When do I not want him? And there is no better time than now, when I’m feeling at my lowest point. Caden will know how to make me feel better. A teasing comment accompanied by one of his sexy smiles will help me forget. An orgasm will chase away all of my blues. I take off the tank top and boy shorts I wore to bed, leaving them in a pile on the floor. My nipples are already hard and between my thighs I’m wet. Eager.
Ready.
Sliding beneath the sheets, I lie on my side facing him, my gaze roaming over his sleeping face. His features are relaxed, his lips slightly parted, his breathing slow and even. His hair is a mess, but what else is new? The man is in desperate need of a haircut, but I refuse to suggest it because, well … I love his hair. It’s long and soft and constantly bothers him, and I love it when he flicks his head to get the annoying strands out of his eyes.
I love it more when I feel it brush against my skin as his lips make their way down my body.
“You’re staring,” he murmurs, his eyes still closed, his expression not really changing beyond his moving lips.
A squeal escapes me and I press my lips together, irritated that he caught me. I shove at his shoulder but it’s like pushing a wall of steel, so he doesn’t so much as budge. “You scared me.”
“Good. Stalkers scare me too.” He cracks open one eye and smiles. But as fast as it appears, the smile fades, and he moves so fast he turns into a blur. He’s sitting up, pulling me by the shoulders so I’m in his lap. “What’s wrong, baby?”
Great. Not only is he knowledgeable in the orgasm department, but he’s also perceptive to my moods. “I’m fine,” I say with a shrug, refusing to crack.
He streaks his fingers down my cheek, his gaze never leaving mine. “You sure?”
I waver. Should I tell him? We’ve never discussed anything too personal. Nothing about our pasts, very little about our present, definitely no discussing the future—absolutely nothing about it is mentioned. We don’t talk about my job or his. We don’t talk about my family or his. Current events, movies, what’s going on around London, what’s happening at home … those are safe topics.
He mentioned a friend who’s visiting in London like he is, a guy named Mitchell who’s a total asshole and worth a ton of money, but other than that, there’s been nothing. No major reveal, no intimate conversations beyond the I want your pussy or Please let me suck your cock variety.
Okay, we’re not that crude all the time. But our moments together are hotter more often than not and I love it. I love losing myself when I’m with him.
But maybe … I do want his help. His input with this problem. It could bring us closer. “I’m sure.” I nod, trying to breathe past the sudden ache in my chest. I’m such a chicken. From the skeptical look he’s wearing, I know Caden doesn’t believe me, and that’s fine. I’m not ready to share this piece of me all the way yet. “Could you just … hold me for a while?” I grimace the second the words are said and I shake my head, burying my face in the crook of his neck. “Never mind. That was so incredibly cheesy …”
“Sshh.” He silences me and gathers me close in his strong embrace. I wrap my arm around his waist, splaying my hand across his back as I press my face against his chest. I hear the steady beat of his heart, and it reassures me as it always does.
He rubs my back, his touch gentle, but then … slowly … it becomes firmer. His hand sweeps across my backside as he picks me up and readjusts me so I’m straddling him, my legs wrapping around him so my ankles press against his spine.
“I know how to make you feel better,” he murmurs in my ear, nuzzling my cheek with his nose as he reaches for my breast, cupping it in his big hand.
“I’m sure you do.” This is what I was counting on, what I needed from Caden. He does know how to make me feel better. He washes away any of my doubt, my uncertainty, my insecurities with his irresistible hands, his smart mouth, his perfect cock …
But there’s more to this man than his body. He’s inherently kind. He wants to take care of me. Though he might not say those words out loud, his actions speak for themselves. It doesn’t matter to him who I am or what I represent. He just … likes me. Rose. Not Rose Fowler, youngest daughter of Forrest Fowler and heiress to the Fleur Cosmetics line. I’m not Violet’s sister or Lily’s sister or Dahlia’s granddaughter to Caden.
I’m just me. Rose. Or Ro, as he likes to call me sometimes. I like that too because no one else calls me that. Just Caden.
Together we’re just Rose and Caden, hanging out in London. And that works. No matter how temporary or fleeting this moment is, I’m here, in it. Living it.
And I’m going to make the most of it.