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Chapter
Fifteen
Kellen
I know she’s gone. I wake up and the bedroom is dark, the sheets next to me cold.
Turning my head towards the windows high in the eaves of the room, I can see grey sunlight coming through. Fuck knows what time it is, but if it’s light in December in London, it must at least 8 a.m. I turn to look at the clock and it tells me it is 9:30. Fuck, so late.
I have to meet my family at eleven this morning, and I need to get it together to deal with that shower of back stabbers and potential thieves. I look at where she had lain when I finally let her sleep. No note. Nothing.
It’s what I would normally dream about—an amazing night of fucking and then the woman gone in the morning. No issues. No hassles. Not quite sure why it doesn’t feel better. I should be cheering, but I’m not.
I drag myself towards the shower. I never even let her in here. I practically had her lassoed in the bed all night. I turn on the shower and stand with my head bowed, the water running onto it and down my body. Hands pressed straight out in front me, legs spread apart, I feel like I’ve gone ten rounds with Craig. To be fair, I did. Also the fucking Greystone crew. And then Kitten.
I smile at the name. More like a panther or tigress, purring one minute, eating you alive and ripping you to shreds the next.
I’m wrecked. My mother is going to have a fucking field day. I exit the shower and dress in jeans and a shirt. I’d add the blazer to pacify Rowena, only I can’t find the damn thing. I was in the bedroom when I shucked it off, ‘cos I remember Evie looking round and watching me undress.
God, am I going to have flashbacks all fucking day? I need to get a grip. It was one night, we agreed. Well that probably isn’t exactly true. I said it was, she just went along with it. Not sure who I’m trying to kid.
There’s a knock at the door and it opens to Mick and Xander coming in, talking, heads together. Xander takes one look at me, and starts to laugh.
“Fuck, brother, that good eh?”
“Fuck off, Xander. Mind your own business.”
“Well, I would, Marcus. But seeing as though, yet again, you were snogging the woman in a bar, in front of people, it’s difficult to do.”
“You came over? I told you not to!” I shout at him.
“Huh! Red rag and bull, mate. I was just coming into the hotel—with Jonno Greystone, I might add—when you were dragging Evie across the foyer into the lifts and shoving her up against the wall.”
I turn my head away. “Fuck. Jonno was there?”
“Yep, they really don’t do privacy at all. He tracked and followed her to make sure she was ok. She’d gone out and not told them where she was going, which apparently is highly unusual. They were all on DEFCON 3. You’re lucky a SWAT team didn’t arrive to extract her,” he laughs out.
“Was he pissed off?”
“Naw, seemed pretty cool about it. We went for a drink. The man’s more lethal than he was when we were kids.”
“What with?”
He shakes his head and says, “Don’t ask, brother,” turning away smirking.
So I ignore him and say to Mick, “We gotta get going. I could do with food, but no doubt they’ll have brunch set up in case I get fed up and leave early.” I want to ask him if he saw her go. I assume he must have because of Tommy, but I just stand there and look at him.
Xander interrupts my thoughts by asking, “What time is the statement going out?”
“About 1 p.m. our time I think. I said 5 p.m. originally, but changed my mind. I’m off back to LA in the early hours tomorrow, and I’d rather deal with a load of shit before I go rather than leaving everyone to it. Are you coming back with me Xan? Slot booked for 4 a.m. The only one I could get or we’d have to wait ‘till the next day. Apparently Gabe needs the plane.”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. It’s too fucking cold to stay here. Did James give you an answer about Christmas? Did you tell her?”
“No and No. I forgot, to be honest. I’ll sort that out today, though.”
“Think he’ll come?” Xan asks.
“He texted asking if the whole lot of them could come. His band, that is, not the Greystones. Apparently they all go together over Christmas to Ma and Pa Greystones’ farm in Devon. They’re like the Brady bunch, Waltons, the Partridge family, take your pick. I said yes. A house full of teenagers.” I shrug then grin, “What the fuck is going on?”
