“Don’t!” he snaps. “You do not entertain other men.”
She hesitates as she stares at his back. “He is a friend.”
“Who I am prepared to kill.”
“I love you,” she whispers.
His dark eyes hold hers. “I will not lose you.”
She smiles softly at her protector. “No. You will not.
* * *
The sound of my suitcase zipper wakes me from my deep slumber and I frown as I look around my darkened room. Alastar is dressed and at the end of my bed closing my suitcase. I sit up to rest on my elbows and frown.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I just packed you a few things.”
I frown in question.
“I thought we could go back to my house this morning.” He smiles as he climbs up the bed to reward me with a gentle kiss on the lips.
It’s too early to think.
His lips drop to my neck. “Umm.” Have I got anything on today?
He pulls me back into his arms as he falls beside me.
“Can’t we hang here today?” I ask. “Why did you pack me clothes?”
“Why stay here when we can have my house to ourselves? I just packed things for tonight, and tomorrow for work,” he replies.
I smirk. “I don’t know any other men who would feel comfortable packing a bag for a female.”
He raises a sarcastic brow but holds his tongue. Hmm, he does have a good point, though. Alone in luxury or roomy shared shit. “I suppose so.” I sigh. I stand, get out of bed and grab a towel. “I’m going to take a shower first. Why don’t you make us some coffee? I will be about ten minutes.”
“Sure.” He smiles happily.
I frown as I leave the room and start my shower. Something tells me that I just got coerced into spending the weekend with Alastar O’shea and I didn’t even know it.
* * *
Forty minutes later, I stand like a nervous child as Alastar turns the key and unlocks the door to his beautiful home. Last time I was here I was in furious tears. Furious that I had let myself fall for Alastar and even more furious that he was denying the feelings I knew he felt for me. He slowly opens the door and I walk in tentatively. He senses my apprehension.
“You okay?” He gently brushes my hair behind my shoulders.
I swallow the shameful lump in my throat. I desperately wish I didn’t come over here and make a scene that day. What was I thinking?
I nod. “Yes. I’m just thinking about last time I was here.”
His eyes hold mine. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Let’s not go over that. It was a horrible day.”
“Why would you leave me here alone when I was so obviously upset,” I blurt out, unable to hold my tongue.
“Because I knew if I stayed, I would not have been able to do what I had to do.”
My eyes hold his. “What is it that you had to do, Alastar?” He shakes his head in annoyance. “Can we not?”
He walks into the kitchen to avoid this conversation and flicks on the kettle. He holds a tea bag up in the air and I nod. I know I shouldn’t keep going over that day but it’s damn hard not to.
He stays silent.
A burning question has been sizzling in my brain and I just can’t let it go, no matter how hard I try.
“I need to ask you something, Twinkle, and I want you to know before you answer it that it is totally okay if you do. It will change nothing between us.”
He looks up from his tea making duties.
“Do you have a mental health issue?” I ask softly.
His eyes hold mine as if shocked that I just asked that out loud. “Maybe.” He murmurs as his eyes go back to his tea bag dunking in our cups.
“Diagnosis?” I ask. I need to know what I’m dealing with here.
His eyes meet mine, and he smiles a broad, beautiful smile. “There is no diagnosis, Emmaline. I just get antsy sometimes when things are out of order or if I am stressed.”
What does that mean? My mind starts to run a million miles per minute. “So, last time I was here it was worse than normal.”
He nods again as if annoyed with me for noticing. “And?” he replies, his eyes not meeting mine.
“What were you stressed about?”
He snaps his eyes up and frowns. “You can’t be serious?”
Oh shit, was that out of line to ask that? I give a nervous nod.
“After the week we spent together, do you really think I was happy about letting you go?” He raises a brow in question.
I bite my bottom lip as I think. Come to think of it, I was pretty stressed then, too.
“So, it’s just when you get stressed that it acts up?”
“Yes. If it’s a problem…” He snaps annoyed.
“It’s not… not a problem,” I stammer as guilt fills me for bringing this up. “Its just, you mentioned at the awards dinner that you had been focused on the dark result.” He frowns.
“And…” I swallow nervously as I speak way too fast to try and cover up my reasoning. “If you suffer from depression, I would like to know about it.”
My eyes search his for a black and white answer.