Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(67)

“You need to come to my party tonight. You must. I’m insulted you haven’t stopped by and visited me at Mum and Dad’s.” Mitchell laughs at his fake British accent and I wish like hell I could tell him to f*ck off and hang up on him.

But I can’t. We’ve been friends for a long time, and yeah, he drives me crazy with his partying ways, but I can’t treat him like shit. “Can’t make it. I have plans,” I answer.

“Cancel them.”

“No can do, bro.”

“Don’t ‘bro’ me. Since when do you decline attending a drug- and sex-filled party? You found God or something?” Mitchell asks incredulously.

He is the worst ever, I swear. But this is how our relationship has always been. We give each other constant shit. Plus, he knows most of my secrets. If he really cared, he could call the police and have me apprehended in a second.

But he never has. He’s always turned a blind eye to what I do. He’s always been there for me despite the constant amount of crap he dishes out to me.

“It’s nothing like that.” Should I tell him the truth? He won’t stop badgering me until I do. Yet my confession might make it worse. “I’m … seeing a woman.”

“Oooh.” Mitchell sounds like his ten-year-old self. When we used to give each other shit over girls and other dumb crap. “Well, bring her with you. I can’t wait to meet the fancy piece of ass you’re f*cking around with.”

I’m pissed. Did he really just call Rose a fancy piece of ass? “Don’t talk about her like that,” I snap.

“What the hell, man. Are you seriously into this chick?” Mitchell is full-on laughing now. “Who’d have thought it? Mister Renegade Thief always on the go, falling for a girl? Have you lost your balls or what?”

“You’re an *,” I mutter. “And I’m not coming to your shitty party.”

“Then I guess you’re not coming home with me on my plane, either,” he says cheerfully, clearly enjoying this conversation.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t test me. Come on, Caden. You know I get upset when you don’t show up to my parties. You bring the good time.”

I used to bring the good time. I drank plenty of booze and did all the drugs and the women, but I pulled myself off the party scene a few years ago. The more alcohol and drugs I consumed, the more reckless I became, and I didn’t need the trouble.

Major mistakes could mean jail time. Something I definitely wanted to avoid. That meant the partying had to stop.

“That’s not my scene anymore and you know it,” I tell him. “Don’t make me go.”

“Just stop by. For a few minutes. I won’t take up too much of your time.” Mitchell is practically pleading. Weird.

“Fine.” I blow out an irritated breath. “I’ll stop by for thirty minutes. That’s it. No more.”

“Perfect. You won’t regret it. I swear.”

“What time you want me there?” I ask, suddenly feeling tired. Like old-man-with-the-world-on-his-shoulders tired. I am so through with this sort of shit.

“Anytime. The party has already started.”

“It’s not even eleven o’clock in the morning.”

“I know. Isn’t it f*cking great? I love this town. You can party whenever you want and no one judges you for it.” Mitchell laughs. “I’ll text you my address.”

“Great.” I end the call and shove my phone into the front pocket of my jeans. This is all sorts of f*cked. How am I going to explain to Rose where I’m going? I sure as hell can’t bring her with me. I don’t want her anywhere near Mitchell and his sleazy friends.

You’re one of Mitchell’s sleazy friends.

That thought doesn’t settle well.

I go back up to the hotel suite to find Rose in the shower, the bathroom door open though the space is full of steam and billowing out into the rest of the suite. I should put the necklace back in the safe, while I have a chance. Or I should go in there and join her. Surprise her. But if I do, that’ll lead to soaping up her body, which will turn into touching her body. Then kissing. Then f*cking.

Yeah. I can’t risk it. She probably has to go in to work and I need to go to Mitchell’s.

Can’t wait.

Dread consuming me, I grab my duffel bag, figuring I may as well start packing now so I don’t wait and do it at the last minute like I usually do. I unzip it and start folding everything I’d shoved in there over the last few days. Hell, weeks. We’ve had to use the hotel laundry service and I paid for my clothes to be cleaned. I even went to the front desk a few days ago and tried to pay for the stay up until then, irritated when the desk clerk told me it was already taken care of. I want to take responsibility for something beyond a few dinners out.

“Shit.” I see the velvet box nestled deep and I glance at the open bathroom door. The shower just shut off and I shove everything back into the bag, zipping it closed. Frustration rolls through me that I didn’t just put the necklace back into the safe and I have no one to blame but myself.

I walk around the suite, picking up my clothes where I left them, which is all over the place. Rose and I have acted like horny teenagers, locking ourselves away in this suite, ordering room service or takeout, lazing around. Having sex, talking, more sex, sleep, eat, sex, sleep, talk.