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Still, I can’t figure out why Weston doesn’t get the same vicious side of her. Why had she let him take her to that mansion after fighting her way out of the marriages her father tried to arrange?

What the fuck does he have on her that made her so obedient that night?

Victor leavesafter telling me Delilah is in the living room with Titus. Expecting to find her awake, what I get instead is her and my dog curled into the same corner of my sofa while a phone face down on the floor plays a muffled sound.

Forget the fact that Titus isn’t supposed to be on the sofas in here, I’m more fascinated by the way he sticks to Delilah like glue. Protective and clingy as hell.

The last person to bring that out of him was my grandfather.

Right now, his tail is wagging against the cushion in his sleep, probably because he’s sleeping beside her.

When I rewatched the tapes from the night Delilah almost drowned, I knew there was no coming back from whatever allegiance he had to her.

He was in her room that night, waiting for her in front of the window that overlooked the pool. His whining hadstarted in her room before he ran downstairs to warn me and Victor. He fucking saved her life when I was too distracted getting updates about her day.

I rub the spot between his ears, waking him up so he can vacate the space in front of Delilah.

He makes it to the spot in front of the sofa before laying back down and I chuckle, reaching down to pick up Delilah’s phone.

The muffled sound I heard when I walked in is a video of a man with ‘robertirwinphotography’ above it. Before it can repeat again, I swipe the screen and look at his Instagram page.

“Who the fuck is Robert?”

A casual minute on his page alleviates the tension trying to bunch in my muscles.

In no time, I have Delilah in my arms, head cradled against my chest.

She wakes up slowly, stretching against me until her eyes find me and quiet surprise shines in them.

“Were you waiting up for me, Delilah?”

“No.”Lie. She rubs the sleep from her eyes and lets her head reclaim its spot against my chest as she asks groggily, “Where were you? You didn’t come to dinner.”

“Tying up loose ends. Why? You missed me?”

“Thought you didn’t do jokes, Adonis,” she mumbles, sagging against me. Even when she’s fighting sleep, that smart ass mouth doesn’t take a break. Now I’m smiling into a dark room while she’s unfazed, using me as a pillow.

I don’t know if this is heaven or hell, but I’m addicted to whatever it is. The heart I thought was rotting in my chest takes on a new rhythm every time she brings a new emotion out of me.

Didn’t know it was possible, but now it’s all I crave.

She’s all I crave.

“Come on, menace. It’s late and you have a doctor’s appointment in the morning. You need to go to bed.” I stand with her pressed against me.

“I can walk,” she lets me know on a delayed yawn.

“Or I can carry you.” My nose presses into her temple. Inhaling.Memorizing. “Please just let me carry you, Delilah.”

Interlude — Lunch Date

DELILAH

Me: I don’t like the way you’re looking at me

Adonis: How am I looking at you?

Me: Like I’m a damsel in distress