Page 5

5

Roman

T wo weeks of work. That was all he’d originally agreed to. A little less murdery than his usual contracts but, you know what, variety was the spice of life, and right now there was spice for days .

As Bri’s official full-time bodyguard, Roman was taking a pay cheque from the bog witch she called a mother, but that was all it amounted to. A pay cheque. Sure, he’d keep Bri safe. That part wasn’t going to be difficult.

But his loyalty rested with Jensen Stone—and that loyalty extended to his family.

Roman let out a weary sigh as he collapsed onto a poolside sun lounger, careful not to spill a drop of his second Old Fashioned of the morning. Truly, the world worked in mysterious ways. Because today he was watching the sun crest over the Atlantic in Aldous Stone’s palatial beach house.

The man himself was currently standing beside the open window of the bedroom they’d put Brianna in, his arms crossed and his brow creased.

“Sit down,” he murmured, going to hook his fingers into his tie and finding it wasn’t there at all. Huh . He must have taken it off when they were in the hospital waiting room. Or the private room Aldous paid extra for. Or when they were waiting for Brianna’s MRI to be done. Or whilst they were waiting for the EEG test. “I’m willing to bet neither she nor Jasmine have moved since you last checked thirty seconds ago.”

Aldous blessed him with the filthiest look he could throw.

Roman blew him a kiss. “Plus, Jasmine would have started whining or barking or something . You saw how she was yesterday.” Jasmine was not a barker, and he’d panicked when he heard the muffled barks through the door yesterday. The moment Koa had dropped the Dalmatian off this morning, she’d made a beeline for Bri, refusing to leave her side.

Turning away from him, Aldous leant his arms on the open window, his shoulders expanding slightly as he took a deep breath.

Roman’s eyes lingered, devouring the long lines of Aldous’s body. Neither of them had slept since the wedding, constantly watching over Brianna’s exhausted form. He swallowed, putting his glass down to undo the buttons of his shirt. The hospital had been sweltering, and he was relieved to take off the constricting uniform, recline back on the sun lounger, and relax.

Yesterday had been… taxing to say the least.

“The fuck are you doing?”

His eyes opened a smidgen, just enough to see Aldous’s all-too-expected glare. “Playing the piano,” he remarked sarcastically. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Why did you take your shirt off?”

“Because I’ve been sweating in it for an entire day and it’s fucking disgusting. Why do you think?”

Aldous’s intense gaze swept down to his chest, his brows pulling together in concentration. “Are those bullet holes?”

Was he dreaming or was Aldous looking at him a little too closely? “Perk of the job.”

Aldous stepped closer to him, the expensive aftershave he’d worn trying to lure him in. His focus dipped down to Roman’s bare chest once more. “She cried during the vows, did you see?”

“Probably because you were wearing a face like thunder, dickhead.”

Aldous ignored the jab, finally taking a seat on the bed in one of the poolside cabanas. “I never saw myself getting married,” he admitted, his broad hands clasped together. “And now not only do I have a wife, I have a wife who’s terrified of me.”

“She still took your name though,” Roman pointed out, the ice in his drink tinkling against the glass.

“So she did.”

That part had surprised even him. The brief interactions he’d had with Brianna so far had only solidified his conclusion that she was different to her mother and sister, but to make it so obvious…

“Vivian didn’t have a clue she was taking your name, did you notice?”

Aldous shot him a glare. “No.”

Probably for the best. The abject fury on Vivian’s face would have turned the stomach of most men; Aldous seeing it when he was so close to a panic attack as it was would have probably pushed him over the edge.

Thankfully, Vivian hadn’t seen Roman’s shit-eating grin or she would have fired him on the spot.

When he finished his drink, Roman got to his feet. There was security equipment that needed installing, regardless of how much sleep he’d missed. On his sweep of the grounds, he was pleased to see that Aldous’s house had at least some sensors, but they were nowhere near the level he was working with—but he needed to get started if he wanted to install everything without the midday sun beating down on him like a furnace.

Once he’d eventually installed and activated everything, he stepped into the shower with a sigh of relief, washing away the panic, dirt, and sweat of the last twenty-four hours, and exited it feeling like a new man.

Roman whipped a towel off the railing, suddenly realising that he arranged for a truckload of security equipment and dog beds to be delivered to Aldous’s house in advance… but he hadn’t actually brought any clothes here.

With the towel slung around his hips, he exited the bathroom to hunt down some clean clothes—because there wasn’t a chance in hell he was putting on those sweaty rags again.

Aldous’s home was stunning, as it turned out.

When he reached the living room, Roman really took it in for the first time. White walls and light wood seemed to be the order of the day, the white walls matching the crashing waves and the colour of the wood blending seamlessly with the sand outside.

Beyond the sliding doors lay the terrace they’d been on earlier, with both stairs down to the beach as well as a swathe of land bursting with lemon trees and sunflowers to the side.

Fuck me. How the other half live.

Roman wasn’t poor—not anymore, not once his talents had truly come to life. He had a million-dollar log cabin a few hours upstate, for Christ’s sake. He was doing well for himself.

But this? This was an entirely different level of wealth.

And one difficulty with this level of wealth, he was learning, was that it was unexpectedly difficult to find where Aldous kept his sodding clothes in this colossal mansion of a home. Or even Aldous himself, because the cabana Roman had left him in was now irritatingly empty.

A low murmur caught his attention as he passed an empty home gym. Aldous’s voice. Roman followed the trail, now well and truly dry from the shower, recognising the hallway as the one he’d carried Brianna down a few hours ago.

Roman paused at the door to Brianna’s bedroom, a smile quickly coming to his face. “You’re awake.”

On the bed, Brianna reclined on a nest of pillows. Her eyelids drooped, as though she was too exhausted to keep them open. “Just about.” She sent him a weak grin, one hand resting on Jasmine’s side. “Why are you in a towel?”

Aldous, by contrast, frowned at him from over in the corner, his gaze getting even more hateful as it travelled over his nakedness.

He scrubbed at his head, no doubt sending his hair into further disarray. “It wasn’t until after I got out of the shower that I realised I didn’t have any clean clothes to put on.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Aldous muttered as he stalked out of the room—hopefully going to fetch Roman some clothing.

But Brianna gave him an exhausted smile, her twinkling eyes drifting down to his exposed skin. “And now we all have to suffer for your mistake.”

Roman effected a sombre air. “I can only apologise for any feminine inconvenience it causes. I’ll be sure to do it again as soon as possible.”

Her lips curved for a moment—before falling quicker than a guillotine.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, terrified of another seizure.

“Nothing.” She blinked, her voice quietly trailing away. “I just… I just remembered I’m married.”

Heavy footsteps behind him had Roman twisting around, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Brianna’s gaze drifted over to his torso. “Speak of the devil.”

Aldous strode past the two of them without a second glance, launching a ball of clothes in Roman’s general direction.

He swiped them out of the air. A dark t-shirt that would soon be covered in short white hairs courtesy of Jasmine, and a pair of grey sweatpants destined to suffer the same fate. “Your new wife will be pleased to hear you own grey sweatpants.” He sent Brianna a wink, throwing on the shirt before pulling the sweatpants up underneath the towel. And I will be as well. “Do you not have a pair of boxers to offer me?”

Aldous’s lip curled in disgust. “I’m not giving you my underwear.”

“Raw doggin’ it, nice.” Roman threw the towel in Aldous’s direction, his eyes rolling before he could stop them. Who was he kidding? He was never going to stop them. “I’m not going to fucking jizz all over them. In them definitely, but not on them.” Probably whilst thinking of their owner—and his new wife.

With a glare full of venom, Aldous batted it away. “The only reason I offered you clothes is because I don’t want you naked in my house. Be thankful you got anything at all.” He turned to Brianna, his voice softening considerably. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else to eat?”

“I’m fine,” she offered, a curl of amusement on her lips, “but thank you.”

He nodded. “The doctor said you should evenly space your medication throughout the day, so I’ll set a reminder to tell you to take your next dose just before you go to bed.”

“I still don’t know how you managed to get it prescribed so quickly.”

“Because he threw his cash around, that’s how.” The mattress sunk as Roman slowly sat on it, with Jasmine’s tail happily slapping against the fabric as he greeted her. “How are you feeling this afternoon, Bri?”

“Like I got hit by a semi-truck.” Brianna’s hands drifted dangerously close to his as the two of them stroked Jasmine. “But I was like that last time too. Except now my head is covered in the glue they used for the EEG test.”

Roman leant in as she pulled a strand of her hair up for him to examine. As promised, a glob of glue was tangled within it at the base. The EEG had looked like something out of a horror film, with leads attached to her scalp every couple of centimetres. And Brianna must have had more than 50 of the bloody things hooked up to her. “Do you have glue stuck in your hair where they attached every single one of the leads?”

Bri nodded sadly, pulling at her hair. “And because I slept in them, it’s just one big mass at this point.”

In the corner, Aldous held up his phone. “It says you can remove it with coconut oil.”

Bri’s eyes lit up with hope. “Really? Do you have any coconut oil?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Roman let out a snort. “Best go get some then.”

“Why me? It’s my house. You go get some. You’re the bodyguard.”

“I’m not the bodyguard.” He gestured to Brianna like he was a car showman presenting the latest model. “I’m her bodyguard. Wanna guess what’ll happen to me if anything happens to her?”

A grimace settled over Aldous’s face. “I’d rather not.”

“Exactly,” Roman said, one eyebrow jumping up in amusement. “Go get some coconut oil, bitch.”

Shaking his head, Aldous uncrossed his arms and headed for the door. “God, I fucking hate you.”

“Love youuu.” Roman winked. “And get me some peanut butter cups,” he called after him. “You want anything?” he asked Brianna, lowering his voice back to normal.

She smirked, apparently finding their exchange amusing. “Maybe some Skittles?”

“And some Skittles!”

Roman ached to wash his hands, to rid himself of the oily grease on his fingers. Even so, he scooped up a handful of the warmed coconut oil and slathered it onto the final strands of Brianna’s hair. “So,” he began, working the oil into the glue residue, “going anywhere nice on your holidays this year?”

In the mirror, Brianna’s reluctant grin made him forget all about the oiliness on his hands. “You’re ridiculous.”

“At least I’m not trying to lick your hair.”

“True,” Bri replied, looking at Jasmine lying on the couch opposite, licking her lips. “Aldous really can’t be trusted, can’t he?”

Roman snorted, combing a repurposed nit comb through the oiled-up hair strands to dislodge the stubborn glue. Or lice comb , as Brianna called it. “Skittles, please.”

Bri held the bag of Skittles up, ready for Roman to park his gob in front of it. It was the best method they’d come up with thus far. All the other methods involved either the packet of Skittles or Bri’s fingers being covered in coconut oil—and Bri, apparently, shared his aversion to oily substances touching her skin.

As she lowered the bag, Roman saw Aldous coming through the living room doors holding an envelope, his face a picture of revulsion.

Bri held up the bag towards him. “Skittles?”

“No.” He thrust the envelope at her, careful to only touch the corner the farthest distance from her. Despite the fact that Aldous had willingly touched her during her seizure, but then that wasn’t any of Roman’s business. Not that that was going to stop him from wildly speculating internally. Was that the first time Aldous had willingly touched someone other than family? “This came for you.”

Brianna’s exhale was sullen. “That’s my mom’s writing.” She flipped it over to reveal the name emblazoned across the front: Brianna Stone.

“I’m surprised you took Aldous’s surname, I have to say,” Roman murmured conversationally, wiping the glue residue off the comb and going again.

She slid the envelope open in a smooth swipe. “I’m surprised she let me go to the hospital.”

“I don’t need to ask permission to take my wife to the hospital,” Aldous spat, his nose creasing in a derisive sneer. “What’s in the envelope?”

For a moment, Brianna simply stared at him with an unreadable expression, but quickly recovered to pull out a thick piece of card.

Roman leant to read it over her shoulder.

Ruta de Los Cardónes 193 Baja California

Brianna’s shoulders dipped, as though the worry had left her. “If it’s what I think it is, then it’s my father’s address.”