Page 72 of Captive Audience

“You heard me. Finn mentioned her this morning. I didn’t imagine it.” I said, sitting up slightly. “You’re an asshole for lyingabout being single. Does this woman you’ve been seeing know you’ve gotten married?”

He blinked at me as if I’d grown two heads. Then, because he was the actual worst, he threw his head back and laughed. “Aye. She knows.”

I slapped his shoulder. “What’s so funny?”

“There’s no one else, you daft lass. The mystery woman is you.”

“Me?”

“You think I’ve got time to follow you around the city, run an international crime syndicate, and keep a girlfriend on the side?”

I wanted to argue, to call him a liar, but the fight died out of me, leaving only the warmth of relief. Better not examine that too closely.

No matter how messed up it was, some foolish part of me had needed to hear that he wasn’t sleeping with someone else.

Fine. I could do this. I could sleep next to a sexy, unhinged criminal who made my toes curl while giving me a stress ulcer and unhealthy blood pressure.

“Rook?”

“Aye, love.”

Why did my stupid tummy flip when he called me that? “Where are my pajamas?”

He paused before answering. “My men packed them, didn’t they?”

“Not the ones I usually wear. You had those left out on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Don’t hate me for wanting to see you in silk.”

“You’re unbelievable.” I eased out of his arms.

He had the gall to huff with disappointment as I settled under the covers and shoved spare pillows down the middle of the bed.

Rook turned off the bedside lamp. “Sure you don’t want to cuddle?”

I grunted, tugged the duvet up to my chin, and wriggled to the bed’s farthest limit. “I’d rather spoon a giant cactus.”

He let out a short chuckle. “If you get cold during the night, you know where to find me.”

How had this shit show become my life?

31

ASHA

Iwoke alone, surrounded by the lingering scent of Rook. My pillow fort was gone, which explained how I’d ended up sprawled across the middle of the bed.

I patted Rook’s side. Cold. No sounds from the bathroom or the rest of the apartment, either. He must’ve left for work already.

I breathed a sigh of relief that I didn’t have to face his smug, handsome face first thing in the morning. My poor brain wasn’t prepared to deal with that so early.

Rook’s pillow lay an inch from my nose. I dragged it closer and inhaled deeply. Shampoo, the faintest trace of cologne, and something that was uniquely Rook.

Yum.

Ugh. I must be ovulating or some bullshit.

I cursed myself for taking a second sniff and groaned. “Why can’t you smell like blue cheese in a hot locker room?”