“Pretty little princess with her pathetic purple roses in her palace rented with Mommy and Daddy’s money,” he slurs.
I moved my flowers in here, away from prying eyes, for a reason. Knots twist in my gut as my eyes dart briefly to the framed pictures by my bedside. One photo shows me with my parents, and the second is a pic of Audrey and me from graduation. Did he recognize my mom and dad and that’s where his comment is coming from? Fuck, I hope not, because the last thing I need is this jerk learning my true identity. I very much doubt Dillon O’Donoghue would keep it a secret, and there’s no way I want to be beholden to him.
A sneer paints his handsome face with an ugly veneer, and I step back as Ash thumps him in the arm, shouting abuse at him. But we’re locked in our own little bubble, ignoring our surroundings.
“Wow. That’s some fucked-up generalization right there. You know nothing about me. Nothing about my life. And you don’t get to come into my apartment and spout this shit at me.”
“You think you’re so superior, like all arrogant rich wankers,” he says, slurring his words again. I don’t care if he’s smashed. Nothing gives him the right to break into my room and then insult me to my face.
“How did you get in here?” I demand, folding my arms across my chest and leveling him with a stern look.
His smug grin makes an unwelcome reappearance. “I picked the lock.”
My mouth hangs open while Ash screams more abuse at her brother.
“Wow. You’re really something else.”
“I am.”
A cocky grin spreads across his mouth, and I’ve had enough of this guy. “That wasn’t a compliment.” I turn to face Ash as Ronan comes back into the room. “I’m sorry, Ash. I know he’s your brother, but he’s a giant bag of dicks, and I don’t want him here. I’m not going to be insulted in my own fucking home just because he’s got some massive stick shoved up his ass.”
“Careful, princess. You’ve just used up your cursing quota for the year.”
“Fucking hell, bro. Stop annoying the girl,” Ronan says. “You need to lay off the weed and the booze, man.”
“Either that or get a personality transplant,” I suggest.
“I’ll talk to him,” Ash says, sending me a pleading look. “We were coming to get you because we kicked everyone out except our friends. We’re up on the roof, and the guys are going to play their guitars. Let me knock some sense into this dumbass and we’ll follow you up.”
“If he says one more nasty thing to me or he calls me fucking princess again, I’ll throw him off the roof and make no apology for it,” I warn. I detect a slight curling of his lips, but he smooths them out before I can be sure.
“Come on, Grace,” Ronan says, enunciating my name to make a point. “Let’s get fucked up.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Ignoring his asshole of a brother, I link my arm in his, letting him escort me out of the bedroom.
33
I turn over in bed, and my arm automatically stretches out, reaching for Reeve. Reality slaps me in the face when my palm grazes cold untouched sheets, and I crash down to earth with a bang. The usual pressure sits on my chest as I blink my eyes open, staring at the stark white ceiling, wondering if I’m destined to live with this soul-crushing pain for the rest of my life. When will it stop?
It’s the little things that really get me.
Like waking up thinking I’m still going to find Reeve’s warm body curled around mine, his large palm flat against my stomach, his morning wood pressing into my ass.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I ward off tears as I slide out of bed, purposely ignoring the roses that seem to stare at me from the top of my dresser. I fell into bed sometime after five, collapsing into an immediate deep sleep, before I could return them to the living area.
Stripping off my clothes, I stand under the steaming-hot water in my shower, welcoming the sharp sting as it pummels my weary limbs like a thousand fine pinpricks.
Apart from the minor setback with Dillon and that black-haired bitch, last night was an epic success, and I really enjoyed myself. I ended up kicking Dillon out because he insulted me again before we’d even made it to the roof. Ash didn’t protest, and from the disapproving look she gave her brother before I shoved his annoying ass out the front door, I could tell she was disappointed in him.
We spent the rest of the night on the roof with the remaining band members smoking joints and singing along to Jamie’s and Conor’s guitar playing. They assumed Dillon had left with his fuck buddy, and no one corrected them. I thought Ronan would, but he seems to have taken my side, which makes me a little uneasy. I don’t want to come between family, and I’m beginning to sense Ronan might be developing feelings for me, which could get awkward. Even if I hadn’t sworn off men, nothing would happen. He’s cute, funny, smart, and great to be around, but I’m not attracted to him. There’s no spark. His gaze doesn’t scorch a path along my skin, unlike his older brother’s.
After showering and dressing, I exit my bedroom, stalling when distinctive moaning sounds filter out under Ash’s bedroom door. The banging of the headboard would be a dead giveaway if Ash’s blissful scream hadn’t just confirmed it. A man cusses in a deep voice, followed by heavy grunting, and I hightail it out of there.
I thought all the guys left around five, but either Jamie snuck back in or he never left. I’ve no doubt that’s who she’s got in there.
I hope Ash knows what she’s doing with that guy. He hasn’t made the best first impression with me, but he seemed different on the roof last night. More mellow and less assholish. The guys are clearly serious about their music, and we were mesmerized listening to them sing and play guitar. Jamie accompanied me when I sang Sinead O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares to You,” and I blushed profusely when they all clapped loudly in appreciation. Mom has a beautiful voice, and I inherited some of her talent in that regard, but I don’t get the opportunity to sing in front of an audience often.
Jamie didn’t seem like a bad guy last night, and it’s obvious there are hidden layers to him, but I’m still worried for my friend.
Switching the coffee machine on, I set about making breakfast for three when I hear the others stirring. I’m just plating bacon, toast, and scrambled eggs when the lovebirds emerge, freshly showered. “I hope you’re hungry,” I say, holding up two plates. “I made breakfast.”
I set them down on the table and spin around, bumping straight into Ash. She smacks a quick kiss on my lips, and I’m momentarily stunned. She laughs at the expression on my face. “I was just thinking I could kiss Grace for this, so I thought why the heck not?” She shrugs, sliding into a seat beside Jamie while I try to snap out of it.
Jamie grins. “I think you’ve shocked your friend into stunned silence.”
“That she has,” I agree, finally snapping out of it. “Do you make it a habit to kiss all your female friends?”
“Only the pretty ones.” She winks.
I distribute mugs of coffee and orange juice before taking my plate to the table. I join Ash on her side, and we joke and laugh about the night while we eat. As I refill our mugs, I decide to risk a question. “So, you two bumped uglies last night, huh?”
Jamie bursts out laughing, slapping a hand on his thigh. “Bumped uglies?” He wipes tears from his eyes. “I think Dillon might be onto something with his prudish princess remarks.”
“Jamie!” Ash screeches, glaring at him.
I withdraw my previous charitable thoughts, and I’m tempted to dump the entire contents of the coffee pot over his head. “I was trying to be polite, that’s all. I can say fucking, screwing, banging, without blushing. I’ve had plenty of sex, and I grew up in Hollywood. Trust me when I say there is little I haven’t heard or seen.”
“Sorry,” he says, looking and sounding completely unapologetic. “Maybe it’s just a cultural thing, but you’re too funny sometimes.”