Page 6 of Bound by Them (Rose and Dagger #1)

Danica

I lean against the gray tiled wall of the shower and force myself to take deep breaths.

No more crying—I need to stop crying over my parents, over Patrick, over Leah.

It sucks and it’s horrible, and I wish this had never happened.

But it did. And I have to move on and do what I can to make things better.

So I felt my feelings, but no more crying. I focus on the water streaming over my body instead. It heats my skin, loosens my muscles, brings feeling back into my numb hands and feet.

When I turn off the water, my aching sorrow and my bottomless rage reemerge. I consider getting back in the shower.

But standing in the shower won’t bring my family back together. It won’t fix everything that’s broken.

I’m here in this beautiful bathroom and I can’t even fucking enjoy it because I’m sad about my useless-as-fuck parents.

I glance at the closed bathroom door. Edmund was surprisingly kind. It was like he could see into my heart, like he knew exactly what I was feeling. Even when I couldn’t articulate it, he knew.

“Dani? I have some clothes for you.” It’s Troy’s voice, just outside.

I wrap a fluffy towel around myself and open the door.

Troy holds a stack of clothes. Like Edmund, he’s unbelievably handsome. Maybe not conventionally—like, he wouldn’t be a model. But he’s rugged and intense with that stubble on his square jaw and the almost permanent scowl he wears. His deep brown eyes search mine. “You’ve been crying.”

No sense lying about it. “Some.”

“Edmund heated up lasagna. Hungry?”

“For lasagna? Always.”

He smiles, the tiniest quirk of his lips. If I weren’t staring so hard at him, I wouldn’t have noticed. He pushes the clothes toward me. “See you in a few.”

I get dressed in clothes that smell like Edmund. A pair of black sweatpants that I have to roll up, and a threadbare t-shirt with a logo so faded I can’t tell what it used to be.

On my way out of the bathroom, I grab Troy’s sweatshirt and pull it on over the t-shirt.

I have to walk back through a large bedroom.

I barely glanced at it when Edmund led me through, but now I take my time.

The wood floor is a rich, deep brown. Almost as dark as Troy’s eyes.

The bed is covered in a forest green duvet that matches curtains which frame a large window overlooking the city.

It’s weird seeing San Esteban from this angle. Usually I’m on the other side of town. I can count the number of times I’ve been to the Salding district on one hand. I was always told it’s too dangerous.

Not sure what Granddad was smoking, because it seems fine to me.

I stare out at the city for a long fucking time. Then I put on my metaphorical big girl pants. Edmund told me I’m not a hook-up. I’m not sure what the hell I am, then. Guess it’s time to find out.

* * *

Edmund

Danica comes out of my room. Her skin has some color in it—she’s no longer ghostly pale.

Troy and I, seated on opposite ends of the long sofa, get to our feet. A couple minutes ago, I told him we’d just be hanging with her tonight, no messing around. He agreed that it’s best. But I’m already having doubts about that resolution.

Because, look at her. She’s gorgeous, even with her face scrubbed of make-up.

“You look better.” I feast my eyes on the sight of her in our clothes. My pants, Troy’s sweatshirt. Pretty. Cute. Sexy.

“I heard there’s lasagna?” She steps forward tentatively.

I point to the plate I loaded up for her, sitting on the coffee table between Troy’s and mine. Flames from the fireplace flicker, sending soft yellow light over the living room. This looks like a scene for seduction, but that isn’t our aim.

I’m strangely nervous. So, like any rich asshole, I cover my uncertainty with command. “Have a seat. We’ll watch something and I’ll even let you pick the show.”

“What if I want to watch a syrupy sweet family drama?”

“Can’t guarantee I’ll watch much of it.” I flop down on the couch. “But I’ll watch you watch it, and that’s good enough for me.”

She rolls her eyes in disbelief. “Guess we’re watching Sweet Home Alabama .”

“Hey, that’s a good movie.” I grab the remote control and hand it to Danica.

More disbelief. Even Troy rolls his eyes. They’re right not to believe me. I’ve never seen that movie.

She ends up choosing a movie about alien cowboys. I still watch Danica more than I watch the screen. Every now and then, I catch Troy looking at her, too. We eat and laugh at the ridiculous space gadgetry. Danica yawns loudly during a chase scene, then boos when the love interests kiss.

“You don’t think they should kiss?” I ask.

“They didn’t earn that kiss.” She shakes her fist at the TV. “They just got away from the alien serial killer, have barely said three words to each other, and now they’re hooking up?”

I give her a pointed look. Does she not remember how fast we started fucking around last night?

She cocks her head, thinking—then bursts into laughter. “Okay, okay, fine.”

Troy shakes his head, chuckling to himself, until Danica puts her empty plate back on the coffee table and curls up against him.

A spike of jealousy arrows straight through my lungs.

He shoots me a bewildered look as she gets comfortable and rests her head against his chest.

“This okay?” Danica asks.

His arm comes down around her. “Yeah, this is fine.”

Fine? He thinks it’s fine ? I have to think about my breathing, purposefully slowing it down. I’ve never been mad about sharing a woman with him before. In fact, I was often the one encouraging it. Like last night.

I stand and gather our plates to take to the kitchen. Danica barely looks in my direction and says, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” It takes all my self-control not to stomp into the kitchen like a child. I feel like an asshole and I haven’t done anything wrong. Should I go off to my own room and let those two cuddle on the couch like an old married couple?

You always feel too goddamn much .

It’s like a switch flips. I’m wallowing in feelings, and that shit isn’t right. I put the dishes away—calmly, carefully. Then I march back into the living room.

Danica is still curled against Troy. She’s messing with the folds of his shirt instead of watching the movie. Despite Troy’s and my resolution to keep things PG-13 tonight, I wonder if she’s interested in doing more.

Instead of putting myself on the far end of the sofa, I sit right next to her feet and curl my hand around her ankle. Just like Troy did to her last night.

She sucks in a careful breath.

Troy looks over at me. His face betrays nothing, but I know his mind. He’s wondering what the hell I’m thinking after I’d told him we wouldn’t fuck around with her tonight.

I turn back to the TV, my fingers firm on Danica’s ankle. I don’t have a foot fetish, but she does have very nice feet. Soft, delicate. I slide my hand up her leg, fingers reaching beneath the sweatpants. Are her legs soft all the way up?

She keeps her eyes glued to the movie, but I don’t think she’s watching it. Her chest moves quickly as her breathing speeds up.

I continue touching her leg, soft circles with my fingertips, before using my other hand so I can touch even more of her. Lucky for me, my sweatpants are huge on her and I can reach almost up to her thigh.

When I rub the spot just behind her knee, she gasps. “Okay, um.”

I do it again, grinning at the way her eyelashes flutter. “Um?”

“Yeah. Um. I don’t think I’m into the whole…group thing.” She waves her hand at me like I am the group thing.

I can’t resist pointing out, “You liked what we did last night. That was a group thing.”

“Not the same. One of you watched.”

I glance quickly at Troy. “He can watch again.”

Danica smiles widely. “Maybe I should fuck him while you watch.”

Little brat. I smile back, just as wide. “I’m not against that. Maybe I should?—”

My phone rings where I’d dropped it on the coffee table earlier. Don’t look .

I fucking look, and it’s my father’s name on the screen.

It’s also nearly two a.m.

I’ll pretend I didn’t hear his call, that I’m asleep. I’m not letting my asshole father interrupt the very thing he asked me to do, which is keep Danica close.

I silence the ringer and turn back to Danica. “Where were we?”

She opens her mouth to respond, probably with something bratty because that’s how she is, but Troy’s phone rings.

Danica looks between the two of us while he fishes his device from his pocket. He holds it up so I can see my dad’s name, before giving me an apologetic look.

“Manchester here.” He pauses, listening to my dad. “Yeah. I’ll go wake him up. We can leave in ten.” Another pause. “Okay, yeah. Five.”

I wait for Troy to end the call, then I take Danica’s hand. “Sorry, angel. We have to drop you at home.”

She nods. “Yeah. Let me just change back into my dress.”

“No way.” Troy puts his hand on her knee, holding her in place. “You can wear our clothes. We’ll get them later.”

“Sure. My purse is in the bathroom—I’ll go get it.”

Fuck. I stare at her as she leaves the room. In a low voice, I say to Troy, “What the fuck? My dad has shit timing.”

“He needs you in Mirarosa. The latest shipment is in the bottom of the bay.”

I groan. This is going to be a long fucking night, and heads are going to roll. I just hope mine isn’t one of them.