54. Kian

54

KIAN

" W hat's wrong?" Tate asks the second she answers the phone.

"Why does something have to be wrong?" I ask, even though she's right.

"You never call me unless it's an emergency."

"Right," I mutter as I walk through the kitchen and reach for a bottle of scotch. "Lorelei's apartment was broken into while we were away."

"What?" she screeches down the line.

"It's fine. I've brought her home with me. Thomas is securing the apartment and sorting everything out."

"Who would?—"

"You don't have any suspicions?" I interrupt.

"I mean, yeah, but surely he wouldn't?"

"Men do really stupid things, Tate. Look what he did in the first place."

"Yeah," she agrees reluctantly. "Those photos of the two of you at the beach sure looked cozy."

"Photos?" I bark.

"Yeah, on Instagram. I didn't know you had it in you, Kian. That was pretty romantic."

"Shit," I hiss.

"Oh, come off it. You're not that naive."

"If we were in Chicago, I'd expect it. But we were in a different state."

"People still know who you are. You're always going to be a target, which makes her a target. You know this."

"Yes, all right," I mutter, already feeling like a big enough asshole over this without her chipping in. "I'm going to fix it."

"Then I guess you need to find the asshole and give him another black eye."

"Tate," I gasp.

"What? I'm hangry. Your brother was meant to be home with takeout almost an hour ago. Never make a pregnant woman wait for food, Kian. Never."

"I'll try to remember that," I mutter.

"What do you need me to do? If you have food, I can come over. Oh, I could pick some up on the way and?—"

"What hair products does Lorelei use?"

"What?"

"What hair products does Lorelei use?" I repeat.

"Wha—why?"

"Because the asshole destroyed them all."

"He what?" she shrieks, sounding almost as horrified as Lorelei looked when she made the discovery. "You know, that's a little like asking me the secret to world peace."

"It's just shampoo," I argue.

"Do yourself a favor, Kian. Never, and I mean never, say that to Lorelei."

I shake my head. I'm really fucking missing something here. "Do you have the names or not?"

"It's not that simple. I'll order some things for you, but I can't promise they'll all be right. I haven't lived with her for a few months. She could have moved on from what I remember."

Moved on? From shampoo?

Fucking hell, I don't understand women at all.

"Please can you get it here like?—"

"Soon? Leave it to me. In the meantime…can we talk more about that romantic beach date?"

"No, we cannot. I need to go and check on your best friend. Talk soon, Ta?—"

"Wait," Tatum cries before I get a chance to hang up. "Is she okay?"

"Of course. She's with me," I say smugly.

"That's why I'm concerned."

"I won't let anything happen to her, and I'll take care of her."

She falls silent for a moment. I should hang up. But I don't. And I regret it the second the next words slip from her lips. "There's nothing fake about this, is there?"

"I've no idea what you're talking about. Enjoy your takeout."

I cut the call before she has a chance to give me any more shit over this whole situation.

Is there anything fake about it?

No, there fucking well isn't, but I'm not about to confess that to Tate, or even Lorelei right now. I can barely admit it to myself, if I'm being honest.

Finally, I pour myself a glass of scotch and throw it back.

"Fuck," I breathe as I slam the glass back down on the counter. Closing my eyes, I find the image of Lorelei's trashed bedroom burned into my eyelids.

What would she have done if I didn't go back up?

I nearly didn't. I almost took her lack of message as her usual brand of defiance.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Jamie to just leave. Thank fuck I didn't.

She wouldn't have called me for help. Hell, I doubt that she'd have even called Tate. I might still have a lot to learn about my assistant, but one thing I know for sure is that she's independent to a fault. She'd have probably spent the rest of the night scrubbing that spray paint from her wall so she could brush the whole thing under the carpet in the hope it's a one-off.

It may well be. It could have been a chancer. But…I'm finding it hard to believe.

No random robber would have broken in just to trash Lorelei's bed and bathroom. That was a targeted attack.

If I didn't know it the second I saw that word graffitied on her wall, then I did the moment I witnessed her reaction to her treasured haircare products.

Time passes slowly as I wait for her to emerge from my bedroom.

I could have taken her to one of the guest rooms instead, but even considering it felt wrong.

We might have agreed that everything would go back to how it was before once we touched down on home soil, but it was the last thing I wanted.

The past two days have been incredible. Why the hell would I want something that good to end?

She's scared. I get it.

Hell, I am as well. I've never had a connection with a woman like I've experienced with Lorelei the last two days. I'm not going to let that go easily.

I just need to figure out a way to prove to her that it's worth the risk. That I'm worth the risk.

The problem is, I've no idea how to make that happen. And I fucking hate that I don't have the answer.

It's why I like numbers. It might take a while, but there is always an answer.

People and relationships are a very different beast.

When almost thirty minutes have passed, I give up waiting and go in search of her.

"Lorelei," I call after knocking on my own bedroom door. It feels bizarre, but I don't want to make today any worse for her.

There's no noise from the other side, and I begin to wonder if she's crawled into my bed and passed out. I'm weirdly excited about the idea that she's found comfort in my space.

Twisting the handle, I push the door open and look inside.

"Hey," I say when I spot her emerging from my bathroom.

My sweats look massive on her. I can't see her waist because of my equally large hoodie, but something tells me they are beyond cinched and tied tight to keep them up. She looks incredible, but it's not her clothing that catches my attention, it's her red puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks that make my heart bleed.

"Babe," I start, but she holds her hand up, stopping me.

"Can we not?" she asks, walking across the room and attempting to slip behind me in her quest to escape.

My hand darts out, my fingers wrapping around her wrist, stopping her.

"It's okay to be upset, Lorelei," I say.

"I'm exhausted, Kian," she confesses without looking at me. "The past few days have been a lot. Hell, the last few weeks have."

"Go and sit down on the couch. I'll get you a drink and order food. What would you like?" I ask, half-expecting her to say McDonalds.

"Italian. I need pasta."

"You've got it. I've got the perfect wine for it."

"Sounds good," Lorelei says, although her tone doesn't match her words.

"Temptress," I growl when she attempts to slip from my grip.

Finally, she looks up at me.

Her eyes are glassy and swollen from crying.

All I want to do is fix it, but I've no idea how.

"Everything is going to be okay," I assure her.

"I know," she says quietly before pulling her arm from my fingers and walking away from me.

I watch her go, kicking myself for not doing better.

This is all new to me. I've never cared about how a woman is feeling before. Never wanted to make everything better.

When I get back down to the living area, I find her curled up in the corner of my sectional with her arms wrapped around her legs.

She looks so small, so…un-Lorelei-like.

I hate it.

After pulling up my food delivery app, I find my favorite Italian restaurant and order what I hope is going to be the comfort food she craves before pulling out a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and pouring us both a glass.

"Here you go," I say, passing it over.

"Thank you," she says absently, her eyes locked on the view of the city before us.

When I first moved here, I would notice it every single day. But at some point, it became normal. But as I lower myself next to Lorelei, I force myself to really look again.

"I've ordered dinner," I assure her. "It shouldn't be too long."

She nods, but she doesn't say a word. She just continues staring.

"Would you like to watch TV?" I offer, unsure what else to do.

She shrugs.

I hesitate, not wanting to do something she doesn't want.

I never second-guess myself. It's weird.

In the end, I choose to put some soft music on instead of the TV.

"Thomas has secured your apartment. He's going to drop new keys off here for you."

She swallows thickly but still doesn't say anything. Instead, she sips her wine.

"He's waiting for the authorities to come and look at the damage. We'll get whoever it was, babe. I promise you that."

Finally, her lips part and her voice fills my apartment. "You don't have to do that. You've already done more than enough."

"Lorelei, I've done nowhere near enough."

"I'll go to Tate's tomorrow. I don't want to cramp your style."

My heart squeezes at the thought of her leaving.

"We'll deal with everything tomorrow. Tonight, just relax."

We fall silent again, losing ourselves in our own thoughts until the buzzer goes off, announcing the arrival of our dinner.

Despite requesting it, Lorelei barely eats anything.

I offer to order something different in fear she doesn't like it, but she refuses.

She's shut down both physically and emotionally.

After she's pushed her tagliatelle around the plate for the fourth time, I finally take it away, suggesting that maybe she should go to bed.

She gets up and shuffles down to my bedroom without question.

I follow only a few minutes later and find her curled up in the middle of my bed.

Looking back over my shoulder, I debate going to crash in one of my guest rooms, but that's about as chivalrous as I get, because I push those thoughts aside quickly and step into my bedroom, closing the door behind me and shutting the rest of the world out.

After cleaning up, I strip down to my boxers and slide into bed with Lorelei.

She moans as I join her, and the second I wrap my arm around her waist, she wiggles back until she's tucked tightly against my body.

She's sleeping and isn't aware of what she's doing. But it doesn't matter. Nothing does while I've got her in my arms.

"Goodnight, Lorelei. Sweet dreams."

I drop a kiss on her shoulder before snuggling down behind her and willing myself to drift off and put today behind me.