Page 9

9

Brianna

B ri had never felt so much like a deflated balloon in her life.

Disappointment dragged her mood down like an anchor, until it was all she could do to leave the hotel room to go down to the restaurant.

The hotel itself was a charming blend of modern and rustic. Stone walls enclosed the hotel complex on all sides, with the parking lot a mix of sand and concrete. The rooms themselves were simple, with bare tiles that seemed to collect sand regardless of how much she tried to keep it out.

The hotel that Roman had insisted on.

With how happy the staff were to see him, Bri guessed he was a regular visitor.

“What do you think?” Roman asked her, gesturing to the feast in front of them. The small, circular table groaned under the weight of the dishes, birria tacos stuffed with beef that melted in her mouth, overflowing carnitas that were somehow crispy and tender all at once, carne asada grilled black and dripping with juices, spicy red salsas garnished with bright red tomatoes, shredded chicken stuffed into enchiladas swimming in creamy red sauce, and more.

The three of them were seated in a cozy private room lit by flickering candles, with Aldous wedged into a corner—by choice. Over the last few days, Bri had noticed he always seemed to be more comfortable with his back against the wall. But why?

“The food is delicious,” she admitted, swallowing a mouthful of a burrito overflowing with succulent, smoky chicken and guacamole. The last time she’d eaten properly had been yesterday evening. The three of them had been surviving on gas station snacks, and Aldous and Roman had to be as ravenous as she was.

Roman used a cheesy nacho to scoop up a colourful heap of pico de gallo. “What about you, Aldous?”

Aldous was quiet for a moment, his jaw chewing in slow, decisive movements. “It’s good. I’ve never had Mexican food before.”

Bri nearly inhaled one of the ice cubes in her horchata. “ What ?” she coughed. Beneath the small, circular table, her legs knocked against Roman’s. “How can you have never had Mexican food?” It was, like, her go-to comfort food.

“Because I live in England .” Sitting to her left, Aldous’s brow hitched. “On the other side of the planet.”

“Nah, babe. You live in Los Angeles now. Here, try one of the—” Roman reached across to swipe one of the quesabirria tacos from her plate, but Bri slapped him away like a possessive hound starved of food.

Aldous nodded towards the mole in a bowl beside her. “What is that?”

“It’s called mole poblano. It’s a type of sauce with chillis and chocolate and all sorts in it.” She scooped up a teeny portion of mole and rice and held it out to him. That she didn’t mind parting with, but she’d fight to the death for her quesabirria tacos.

For a few fraught seconds, neither of them moved, but just as Bri was about to put it back on her plate, Aldous leant over—and held her gaze hostage. The feel of his mouth on the end of her spoon was the closest they’d come to physical contact. Bri exhaled, watching her husband lick his lips.

A smooth, smug voice broke the silence, but it wasn’t either of theirs. “What about me?”

Bri blinked at Roman. Was spoon-feeding a man who wasn’t her husband allowed? It was distinctly… intimate.

“Let him taste it,” Aldous murmured, those piercing amber eyes directed at Roman.

Brianna obeyed.

Roman leant in quicker than she could blink, letting out a hum of pleasure—just as a sharp inhale came from Aldous. Swallowing, Roman gave them a slow, leisurely smirk, his calloused fingers rasping over the sensitive skin on her wrist. “Tastes better than ever.”

Where was a fan when she needed one? Brianna couldn’t tear her eyes away from the two of them. Were they… were they flirting ? And why did that make certain muscles beneath her navel clench?

She had no doubt Roman was flirting, but then Roman was always flirting.

It was Aldous who was surprising her right now.

Her lips parted as a thought struck her like lightning. Was Aldous gay? It would certainly explain why he wasn’t in a rush to consummate their marriage. Her stomach dropped at that possibility. The two of them had been thrown together by her mother to utilise Aldous’s business connections, but Bri would be lying if she said she felt nothing for him.

Biting her lip, her eyes slid over to Roman.

She’d be lying if she said she felt nothing for him either.

Once their Mexican feast was reduced to nothing but smears of sauce and trails of crumbs, Bri broached the subject of their hotel room. “So,” she began, getting up from the table, “what are we doing about our sleeping arrangements?” Although it was well-equipped, the hotel was small, and at this time of year most of the rooms were filled with tourists, according to Roman. The only room they had left had just one double bed.

An ominous, dramatic tone cut across her question. The heavy rhythm was one she recognised, but she couldn’t figure out where from.

Roman sighed, peering down at his phone. “I’ll join you upstairs. The boss is calling.” Giving the two of them a departing wink, he slipped through the exit door.

The boss? Did that mean her mother?

Bri blinked, suddenly realising where she recognised the music piece from. “Hang on, was that the Darth Vader music?!”

“Apparently so.”

She wondered whether that was his ringtone in general or if he had set it specifically for her mother. Probably the latter, if she knew Roman.

It felt like she knew him a damn sight better than she knew her husband, at the very least.

The two of them made their way through the deserted hotel, passing their waiter from earlier with a smile—on Bri’s part, at least. With only two storeys, they didn’t have a long climb, but it was made all the longer by the deafening silence.

“Can I ask you a question, Aldous?” Bri asked, her voice little more than a whisper as he unlocked their hotel room.

Opening the door, his eyebrows drew down. He stepped away to let her in, but she didn’t miss the way his hawk-like eyes tracked her body. “Depends on the question.”

She waited until both of them were inside before continuing, with the door securely locked. She knew Aldous enough to know that he wouldn’t enjoy having personal information thrown out in a hotel corridor—where anyone could be listening. “You… you don’t like to be touched.”

Aldous’s eyes narrowed. “That isn’t a question.”

“May I ask why?”

His nostrils flared in anger, and for a moment she thought he was going to snarl out an insult. “Why do you think?”

Bri’s imagination deserted her, so she went with her experience. “I had a friend in college with sensory issues. Touch could be painful for her, to the point where she could only wear certain fabrics or eat foods with certain textures. Is it like that for you?”

In the darkened room, Aldous gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “No.” The words were a caress over his lips. “It’s not like that for me.”

Sitting on the bed, she exhaled a long, drawn-out sigh. She’d eaten far too much, but dammit it was worth it. If Superman’s weakness was kryptonite, Bri’s was Mexican food. She kicked off her shoes. “Do you mind if I get ready for bed?”

Aldous leant against the wall, his arms firmly locked over his chest. What was that she saw peeking out from beneath his shirt? A tattoo? A scar? “You don’t want to go into the bathroom and do that?”

She shrugged. Her body was something she’d never been shy about. Even as a gawky teenager, she had her hips and ass to make up for her acne—plus college had done wonders for her self-confidence. “I was sunbathing around your pool in my bikini yesterday. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” A small, uncertain smile curved her lips. “And we are married.”

When he offered no objections, Bri’s hands went straight to her belt, exhaling with relief and banishing it to the shadow realm. Why she had worn a belt on a day she’d be spending cooped up in a car she had no idea.

The white pants were cinched in at the waist, and she’d paired them with a sleeveless halter neck top in a bright orange fabric that complemented her dark skin tone—and the gorgeous holographic nail polish she’d spent yesterday afternoon perfecting.

Okay, so maybe she was trying to show off in front of her new husband. But so what?

And maybe also her flirtatious bodyguard.

Neither of them had taken the bait, however. Sliding her pants down her long legs, Brianna decided to up the stakes. She pretended not to notice the way Aldous eyed her figure, even as she acted the temptress, peeling her top off in a slow, sensual movement.

His attraction was plain, despite his aversion to touch.

In nothing but her bra and panties, Bri sat cross-legged on the bed and slowly let down the long braids slinking down either side of her head. Her hair was still mercifully pliable after its post-seizure coconut oil massage. I have to start doing that regularly. “So do you let your family touch you at all?”

Blinking, Aldous pulled his eyes up to her face. “Sometimes.”

“Will I ever get to meet them, do you think? You’ve already had the, uh, pleasure of meeting your mother-in-law.”

A small, traitorous voice wondered if her mother-in-law would be kinder than Aldous’s. In the hidden depths of her mind, Bri hoped she would be.

Mom had never been particularly maternal, and Bri doubted she had an ounce of softness in her. The Yarborough family home was a strange place to grow up. At college, other people spoke of family game nights and movie marathons and holiday traditions.

By contrast, Vivian Yarborough didn’t treat her and Reina like children; they were nothing but Syndicate members-in-training. She didn’t bother to shelter them from the harsh realities of the outside world. “The world won’t go easy on you,” she would say. “So why should I?”

“Because we’re children,” her eight-year-old self always wanted to scream. “Because it’s your job to protect us.”

Aldous shrugged, ignorant of the direction her thoughts had taken. “Perhaps.”

So no, then . “What are your parents’ names?” she asked, hugging her knees to her chest.

“My mum is called Alison.”

Jesus, talking to her husband was like trying to get blood out of a stone. Bri decided to be direct. “I’d like to get to know you, Aldous. I seem to have lucked out in that, out of all the people Mom could have forced me to marry, you’re the only one who isn’t a psychotic fucking murderer. Do you know how terrified I was at the altar?!”

His mask of indifference cracked at her admission, his amber eyes softening. “I know you were scared, Brianna.”

“Call me Bri,” she whispered, getting to her feet. Slowly, she approached, conscious that she wore mere slips of fabric. The tiles were cool against her feet, although the ever-present desert sand lingered in minute fragments, sticking to her soles. Bri came to a standstill a foot from him, desperately wanting to reach out to her husband, to bridge that connection. “I’m your wife. Call me Bri.”

“What is it you want from me?” He stood with an almost eerie stillness.

She shrugged, raking her eyes over his broad shoulders. “A proper marriage.”

A sneer creased his nose, and suddenly Bri doubted her earlier conclusions about him being attracted to her. “You want me to fuck you?”

“I mean I’m not demanding it immediately . I was thinking after a period of getting to know each other, we could—”

“No.”

Bri blinked at his refusal, at how easy it came. Earlier tonight, she thought she’d been getting somewhere with him. Spoon-feeding him at dinner was a step in the right direction… surely? Yet now he was colder than ever. “Are you… are you not attracted to women?”

Anger raged in his eyes, his sneer only becoming more pronounced. “I’m attracted to no one.”

“So, what, we’re never going to consummate the marriage?”

“No.”

The speed of his dismissal prompted her to step back. Her heart sank. She liked Aldous. “Sex is important to me in a relationship.” Touch was how she expressed her love—perhaps because she’d been denied physical affection as a child.

Bri didn’t want to go back.

She didn’t want to live a touchless, loveless life.

“Then find someone else, Brianna.” Aldous’s tone cut through her like a knife.

A tear escaped down her cheek, but she quickly swiped it away. Suddenly, she regretted undressing in front of him. If he didn’t want her, he didn’t deserve to see her like this. Bri bundled her pyjamas into a ball and stormed into the bathroom, throwing the lock with a savage thunk .

It was only when she was safely in the shower that she let her emotions loose. Her loveless childhood had left her well-versed in silently crying beneath the steaming water cascading over her head.

Bri had been terrified of marrying for so many different reasons, but she’d never considered a scenario like this.

Somehow her new husband left her even lonelier than she had been before she met him.