Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(76)

“Yeah?” I scratch the back of my neck, wishing like hell I could pull her into my arms, but she looks ready to scratch my face off.

“Yes.” She stops directly in front of me. So close I can smell her, feel her warmth, and I curl my hands into fists so I don’t touch her. “It was about you.”

I glance over my shoulder, thankful no one is paying us any attention. The music has been turned back up and Whitney is standing on the coffee table, doing a little bump and grind. I turn back to Rose to find her still glaring at me. “Can we talk about this later? When we get back to the hotel?” Avoidance is my specialty. It should be my middle name.

But of course, I should have known Rose wouldn’t let me get away with it.

“No,” she says firmly, shaking her head. “I need to talk about this with you now, Caden. It’s eating me up inside, what Violet told me.”

Shit. I’m f*cked. Reaching out, I take her arm, my touch gentle, my fingers itching to caress and soothe. I’d probably get a fistful of knuckles in my teeth if I tried at this moment. Rose looks ready to destroy me. “Let’s go upstairs, then,” I tell her softly. “We’ll find a room so we can have some privacy.” May as well get this over with. Find out if I’m doomed forever without Rose.

I already know the answer. I’m f*cked regardless of what I tell her. Maybe it’s better she found out now versus later. Then we can be good and done with it by the time I head back home.

The thought isn’t as reassuring as I’d hoped.

“I don’t know if I want to go anywhere alone with you.” She tries to escape my grip, but I won’t let her go.

I can’t let her go. She belongs to me. Doesn’t she see it? Doesn’t she feel it?

“Hey, hey, who’s the pretty lady?” It’s Mitchell. Irritation rolls through me.

We both turn and Mitchell’s eyes widen when he sees who’s with me. “Rose Fowler?” He slides a look to me, surprise in his eyes. “For reals, Kingsley? Nice catch.”

“Fuck off,” I tell him, grabbing her hand and leading her up the stairs. She doesn’t protest, doesn’t say a word, and I’m thankful for her acquiescence. I need to be alone with her so I can possibly rectify this real-life nightmare I’m experiencing.

But I’m pretty sure it’s already too far gone to fix.

“Don’t you dare f*ck her on my parents’ bed,” Mitchell calls after us, then yelps. “Ow, Whitney, f*cking get your hands off me, you jealous cow!”

I feel Rose stiffen next to me but I don’t acknowledge it. I don’t need this drama from Whitney and Mitchell or anyone else. Not Violet, either. Walking down the hall, looking for an empty room, I feel like I’m being led to my death. To the gallows, ready to face my execution.

More than anything, I’m scared. Afraid of what Rose is going to say, how she’s going to react, how I’m going to react. I’ve never faced my truth before. No one has ever called me out on it. I just do what I do and skate by, always getting by. Always getting away with it.

Rose is about to make me face my reality. I know it. And I’m not ready. Not by a long shot.

The bedroom at the end of the hall is huge and I can only assume it’s the master. Rose and I walk inside and I close the door, turning the lock on the knob as I watch her go to a chair near the window and sit in it. She looks perfectly composed, perfectly beautiful in the black dress I zipped her up in only a few hours ago, when life was still relatively normal and I hadn’t been laid out bare, confronting my fears.

May as well get right to the point. Suffering is not my favorite thing to do. “So. What did Violet say?”

She grips her knees so tightly her knuckles are white. She won’t look in my direction and that kills me. “I don’t know who he is.”

I frown. “What?”

“The guy downstairs. The one who said my name.” She shakes her head, then gazes out the window. “He’s not familiar.”

“That’s Mitchell. Mitchell Landers. His dad is some real estate mogul and his mom is on reality TV.” No joke. Mitchell’s parents are the real f*cking big deal. His dad is a billionaire and his mom was on some weird shopping show that put her excessive spending habits on display for the entire country to see.

She’s still not looking at me, now keeping her gaze trained on her knees. “Oh.”

The silence hangs between us, bloated and full of tension, like a heavy, dark cloud just about to explode with thunder and lightning. My skin feels tight, my stomach is doing flips, and I can’t f*cking stand it any longer.

“Rose.” She hangs her head farther when I say her name. “What did Violet say?”

“I don’t want to tell you.” Her voice is so quiet I almost can’t hear her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

What? “You just said …” I blow out a harsh breath, resting my hands on my hips. Frustration runs through my veins. I don’t know how to handle this. “You said you wanted to talk about it. So let’s do it.”

“I don’t want to hear your side of it. Or hear you defend yourself and us end up getting into a fight. Not anymore. It’s just … wasted breath, you know? I don’t want any of that. Not tonight.” She lifts her head, her eyes meeting mine. “Why was Whitney sitting on your lap earlier, taking pictures and kissing your cheek?”