Page 138 of The Man Upstairs

I shook my head. “No, no. Not for a thriller. I’ve been working on a different project, actually. A novel called The Girl Downstairs.”

Her eyes were magnificent, as was her smile.

“Oh my God! About Rosie? You’ve got the dirty bits in it?! Whoa, fuck. You have!”

“Some of them, yes,” I said with a smirk. “But there is a lot more to it than those. Call it a forbidden romance, if you will. But there is a great amount of romance in it, alongside the filth.”

“Holy shit. You’re serious? You’re going to publish a book about Rosie?!”

“Quite possibly, yes.”

“Does she know?”

“Not yet. She has no idea. Which is why I’m mentioning this to you in private.” I took a drag of my cigarette. “So, I’ll need a cover. Would you be able to design one for me, and keep it a secret until I’m ready to use it?”

“Hell yeah, I’d love that.” She crossed her fingers and held them up. “And I’ll keep it quiet. Promise.”

We talked about the basic outline while we smoked, and we were done with the initial ideas when Peter stepped on out to join us. His timing was good.

“Was going to ask if you wanted another drink,” he said. “Rosie’s just off to the bathroom. I thought I’d get them in.”

“Just finished actually,” Lola said, stubbing her cigarette out.

I did the same and we returned inside together, heading straight back to the bar. The place was busy, but not busy enough that my eyes didn’t seek out my goddess immediately, already having returned from her bathroom trip. She was talking to a guy who was leaning into her, cocky, with his arm on the bar top, and she was nodding, laughing, chatting with him.Oblivious.

“Bloody hell. Didn’t take him long to try it on with her,” Peter laughed over the music. “Still, they probably think we’re out with our kids, not our girlfriends.”

“Stop it!” Lola said, but he was right. They likely did. Especially with me and Rosie.

“Excuse me, please,” I said to the pair of them, and marched on ahead like a man possessed, striding straight on over to the suited idiot trying it on with my girl. I wanted to tear him away from her and throw him across the room, but managed to keep some semblance of calm, taking her hand in mine on the bar top.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hey,” she said, and kissed my cheek, but that wasn’t enough for me. I met the guy’s eyes before I took Rosie’s chin in my hand and turned her face to me, possessively. I kissed her like we were in the bedroom and not at a club bar, my tongue a beast as it danced with hers, lost to everything but how much I needed her, and how desperate I was for the club to know about it. I would have screamed it from the rooftops, right across the city from a loudspeaker, just to let the world know that the goddess in my arms was mine.

No shame. No remorse. No lies.

Rosie was mine.

The sweet little girl – goddess – was all mine.

The idiot was gone when I broke the kiss. Her lips were puffy and gorgeous as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“Do that again, please,” she said with a flutter of her lashes, not giving a fuck that the club was watching, and that Lola and Peter had long arrived back at our side.

“My fucking pleasure,” I said, and kissed her so hard that even Lola called outget a room!

Chapter Thirty-Five

Julian

Seeing the girls’faces as they soaked up the energy of the club was magical. Seeing the way Peter smiled at Lola like she was his whole world was a mirror of my own adoration for the angel at my side. Rosie was a goddess in pastel pink, her fake lashes a fluttery delight, mixed in with her trademark glasses, shining with sweetness.

A club of this calibre, thrumming with city nightlife, was my usual kind of environment. Something I’d been used to for years. It was a luxury and ambience I’d written off as nothing, just as I had written off my life all those months ago.

It’s funny how much more you appreciate things once you’ve gone through the pain of losing them.

I definitely didn’t want to lose anything else, and my senses were on high alert about it.