Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(77)

Ah, hell. I was really hoping she wouldn’t mention that. “How did you know about it?” I ask carefully, feeling as if I’m walking into a minefield and Rose has already set the trap.

Her lips thin. “She sent the photo to Violet and she showed it to me.”

Fuck me. Everyone’s out to screw me over, I swear. “Whit kissed my cheek and took the picture when she first showed up. I shoved her off my lap the minute I realized what she was doing.”

Rose’s gaze doesn’t waver from mine. “Why was she hanging on you when I first walked into the house?”

“I told you. She’s drunk. She’s high. She’d just done a few lines. And she’s pissed that I lost interest in her. She still tried to get me to have sex with her,” I say with a grimace. I’m being about as honest as I can get. If she wants to ask me anything else, I’ll tell her the truth. No matter what.

No matter how much she might end up hating me.

“I don’t like her at all.” She utters a little frustrated noise. “I don’t know why my sister is friends with her.”

I don’t get it, either. “When it comes to Whitney, you have nothing to worry about,” I reassure her.

“What about … anything else? Should I be worried?” Rose asks.

She’s being purposely vague. And I don’t want to say anything that’s unexpected or that will incriminate me. “When it comes to other women, I’m not interested. There is only you.” That statement I can stand by 100 percent. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t need anyone else.

Just Rose.

Her face almost crumples, like she wants to cry, but then her expression changes, becoming impassive in an instant. “Come here.” Her breath hitches. “Please.”

I go to her with apprehensive steps. What if she slaps my face? Kicks me in the balls with those killer heels she’s wearing? She could spit in my eye and I would take it. It would be the least I deserve for what I’ve kept from her. For what I’ve done to so many people these last few years. I justified my actions by saying my stealing hurt no one since all my marks were loaded already. They had insurance. Coverage for their loss.

Where was the coverage for my loss? For my mother’s loss? It disappeared when my dad jumped from that building. When he stole from his clients. Every inch of security we’d ever had was ripped from us with his actions. Actions he never had to truly face.

His unnecessary death is what has fueled me all this time. What helped me justify my actions. Twisted and all sorts of messed up, but it’s all I’ve got.

And it’s hard to face my wrongs in front of a woman who I never, ever want to disappoint.

Rose takes my hand when I stop in front of her, interlacing our fingers together. She tilts her head back so our gazes meet, and her golden eyes sparkle with unshed tears. The sight of those tears slays me dead and my chest cramps. With my other hand I cup her cheek, stroke her soft skin, and she leans into my touch, closing her eyes so the tears tangle in her lashes.

I hate what I’ve done to her. The torture I must have inflicted on her. The torture I’m about to put her through. It’s not fair. If I could take her pain away and make it mine, I would. In a heartbeat.

“I know what you’ve done,” she whispers, her eyes still closed as if she can’t look at me. “You don’t have to say anything else. You don’t have to explain yourself. Just know that … I know. Violet told me.”

Questions race through my mind, one after the other, coming at me rapid fire. How does Violet know anything? Who told her? And what exactly did she say to Rose?

She pulls on my hand and I step closer, shocked when she wraps her arms around my legs and rests her cheek against my thigh. “It doesn’t matter what you’ve done. You have your reasons and I’m not going to question them. Just … let me have one more night with you before we leave. That’s all I want.”

“Rose …” My throat feels raw. My chest aches. Foreign emotions swirl within me and I don’t know how to control them. Or what to do. “Baby. What are you—”

“Don’t say anything.” She interrupts me, squeezing my legs tighter. “Don’t play stupid. Don’t deny what you’ve done. Just let me have this time with you.” She looks up at me. “Please.”

“I leave Sunday,” I tell her solemnly. It’s time for me to be honest. “Mitchell flies back Sunday night and I’m going with him.”

She lifts her head, keeping her gaze fixed on mine. “I fly out tomorrow.”

“What?” I rasp. The words stick in my throat, and it takes a concentrated effort to force the rest of them out. “Where to?” I croak. “New York?”

“Yes.” She nods. “Right before I came here, my father called me and we talked for quite a while. Your words stuck with me all day, Caden. You’re so right. I can’t quit. I’m not a quitter.”

“No.” I touch her hair, the silky, soft strands clinging to my fingers as I push it away from her face. My gaze roams her face hungrily. Are these really the last hours I get to spend with her? “You’re definitely not a quitter, Ro.”

“Will you come back to the hotel with me?” she asks.

“You don’t want to talk about …” My voice drifts. I can’t even say it.