Twisted Fate (Dark Heart Duet #2) - Ella James Page 0,88

getting off the bed. “I don’t want you compromising yourself, rosa. Especially now.” She looks like she’s going to get up, too, so I lie back down with her. “You want to stay while I run out? I can come back.”

“I can go home, too,” she murmurs. “If that’s easier for you.”

“Stay and sleep. If I’m not back in time for when you want to go, just call a black car.” I run my hand back through my hair. “I might be back fast, though. I’m gonna try to have my brother meet me somewhere nearby.”

Elise

He brushes a kiss over my forehead, gives me a tired smile, and moves toward the bedroom door. When he reaches the door frame, he turns back around, wide-eyed as he walks back over to me.

“One more time,” he rasps, hugging me with one arm as his free hand cradles my bump. “Bye to both of you” he whispers.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him look as tired as he does leaving the apartment. Once he’s gone, I stand there in the kitchen/living area for a long moment. Then I drift back into the lone bedroom, looking at the medicine bottles on the dresser: all sleep meds. I wonder what the story is there, but I know the gist of it. He pretty much said he has PTSD-related sleep trouble.

Poor Luca.

I can’t resist looking around the bedroom a bit more before I lie back down. Inside the night stand drawer, I find a notebook filled with some kind of logistical information. Scrawled inside is the address 202 Richards Street. The handwriting doesn’t look like his. It’s big and loopy.

I tell myself it would be an invasion of his privacy to look in the dresser drawers…but I can’t resist. I’m rewarded—punished?—almost instantly. The top drawer is filled with women’s clothes. They’re new clothes. Packs of underwear, bras in various sizes still bearing tags, shirts and shorts and jeans.

Is this a house where he meets women? He said he’s never had anyone in the tub at his house. What if that’s because he only ever brings them here?

There’s no way he sleeps with prostitutes on a regular basis…right? What if that’s how he knew he wouldn’t transfer anything to me? Do sex workers have to show their test results or something like that?

Using my phone, I look up the owner of this apartment, which turns out to be an LLC called The Rose Garden. I kind of feel like leaving, but I’m so sleepy—and the truth is, I want to see him again. The truth is I trust him, even if it’s senseless. But I don’t think it is.

I get a nap on the soft, cotton sheets, and when I open my eyes, he’s in the doorway looking tired and rumpled in the same black jeans, boots, and long-sleeved T-shirt he had on last time I saw him.

I push up on one elbow, searching his face with my blurry eyes. “How was it? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” He glances back into the living area. “I’m getting a glass of water. You want some?”

“Sure.”

He brings us both water, but instead of sitting by me, he sits at the edge of the bed, rolling his left shoulder and staring at the TV, which is off. When he turns to me, he lifts his brows, but he looks tense and solemn.

“I was thinking of going soon,” I say, wanting to offer him some space if that’s what he needs. I’m hoping he’ll crawl back into bed with me, but instead he stands up.

“I can take you back home.” He steps over to me, holding out a hand as if I might need help getting off the bed. I take it, and when I’m up, he wraps me against him for one of those good, firm hugs.

“I want you to think of how I can help out with the baby.”

My stomach does a slow roll as I nod. How he can help? What does that mean? I don’t have the nerve to ask as I start dressing, taking care to wrap my scarf around my face, and he calls valet.

Then I’m following him into the hall. He locks the door and takes my hand in his.

“Just keep me posted, okay?” he says again. “I want to be part of the process.”

That sounds better. I nod, feeling teary.

“Everything’s gonna be good. I know it wasn’t planned,” he says, just as the elevator dings, “but I can’t be unhappy. How do you