Page 27 of Twisted Violet (Lovesick Villains #4)
TWENTY-SIX
ROME
She’s asleep on my chest, and I’m not sure I remember how to breathe.
Her leg is hooked over mine, one arm draped lazily across my stomach, breath warm against my skin. The bracelet I bought her is still looped around her wrist, smudged with powdered sugar and sweat.
I should be thinking about consequences.
About lines crossed, about what this means, but all I can think about is how goddamn right she feels here. In my bed. Wrapped around me like she belongs.
And maybe that’s the problem. Because I’ve never wanted anything to belong to me more.
I fucked her all night. On the island, against the wall, in the shower, on this bed. We only stopped once the sugar was all gone and her eyes started fluttering shut mid- kiss. Even then, I had to pull her against me and hold her tight, like my body didn’t accept that it was over.
She wore me down in the softest, sweetest, filthiest way possible. And now she’s here, asleep in my arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I stare down at her face, lips parted slightly, lashes sweeping her cheeks, powdered sugar still faintly dusting the lavender hair at her temple.
My chest cracks wide open.
No excuses, no denial, no carefully structured logic.
I fucking love her.
There. It’s out. Silent and earth-shattering. Settling in my bones like it’s always been there, just waiting for me to admit it.
And for once, I don’t care what comes next.
Not about Stevie and The Reapers. Not about the repercussions. Not about how badly I’ve fucked every rule I’ve ever lived by.
If this comes with fallout, I’ll take it.
Because she’s worth every second of it.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
I reach for it with one arm, careful not to shift her weight off me.
It’s a text from Bobby, one of the building’s night guards.
Sorry to contact you so late, Mr. Creed. There’s a young couple here. Neither will hand over their IDs. But the woman says if we don’t let her through, she’ll burn down the building.
I sit up just enough to glance at the monitor across the room, with the camera feed already pulled up.
It’s Stevie and Atlas.
Fuck.
We all agreed. No visits. No contact. No risks. Them showing up out of nowhere is a problem.
I slip out of bed, tug on a shirt and sweats and head straight for the elevator.
The moment the elevator doors glide open, I step into the lobby and spot Stevie arguing with Bobby, one of the night guards.
Atlas stands a few feet behind her, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
“They weren’t on the list,” Bobby says, throwing me a panicked look. “We told her we can’t just-”
“It’s fine,” I cut in. “They’re with me.”
The guards step back immediately. “Sorry about that, miss.”
Stevie doesn’t even glance at them. She turns on me instead, eyes blazing.
“What the fuck, Rome? Why are you ignoring my calls?”
“Hi to you, too.” I mutter. “You’re looking well.”
“We had rules.”
“Indeed, we did. Care to explain what you’re doing here?”
Stevie narrows her eyes just as Atlas steps between us to interject, “Maybe we should take this somewhere more private.”
I exhale through my nose and gesture for them to follow me. “Let’s head to my home office.”
No one speaks during the ride up, but Stevie doesn’t need words; the tension is practically pouring off of her.
We make it to the office, and as soon as I shut the door, Stevie lays into me.
“What’s going on between you and my sister?”
I should lie, I should deflect, I should make it sound like less than what it is. But I can’t, not after what just happened.
“Nothing you need to be concerned about.” I say, glancing at Atlas. He’s leaning against the wall watching us like he already knows how this is going to play out.
“Don’t bullshit me.”
Her voice is low, but it cuts sharply. I clench my jaw.
“You’re crossing a line.” She hisses. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
I say nothing.
Her glare sharpens. “This was supposed to be temporary. She’s here to be safe. Not to play house with three guys who clearly don’t know what the fuck they’re doing.”
Her accusation stings.
Yes, things have gotten complicated, but Violet has always been safe with us. We would never let anything bad happen to her.
I shake my head. “She’s not some fragile little-”
“Yes, she is,” Stevie hisses. “You, of all people, should know that. You saw her, Rome. In that shed. You know what she went through. She’s vulnerable, and you let this happen.”
“I didn’t let anything happen. I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t plan to fall-”
“Don’t say it.” She says, cutting me off. “Don’t you dare say it.”
“And if it’s the truth?” I ask.
“It better not be.” She says sincerely. “Because if it is, you’re going to break her fucking heart. ”
“That’s the last thing I would do.” I snap, louder than I mean to.
Atlas steps forward, but Stevie presses a hand against his chest as she turns to face me. “Then you need to be honest. With yourself and with her. If you break her now, there is no coming back from it.”
She glances at Atlas, who nods once, and then looks back at me. “Call Dallas and Niko in.”
I hesitate, just for a beat.
Stevie stares me down.
Atlas watches us like he’s already planned five outcomes and none end well for me.
“I’m not leaving until I talk to all of you,” she says, tilting her chin up.
Shaking my head, I pull out my phone and text the group chat.
The reply is instantaneous.
Niko walks in first, sharp-eyed and stone-faced, fully dressed like he never planned on sleeping.
Dallas shows up a minute later, barefoot and shirtless in his boxer briefs. His hair is sticking up in every direction, and his eyes are half open.
Both of them freeze when they see Stevie.
Dallas squints. “Is this a dream? Please tell me this is a dream.”
Atlas smirks. “Nope. It’s your fucking intervention.”
“I want the truth.” Stevie says, folding her arms across her chest. “All of it. Every kiss. Every touch. Every time you crossed a line. I want to know exactly what’s been going on between the three of you and my sister. And don’t even think about sugarcoating it.”