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“Roman, tell us what the hell is going on,” Abel pleaded, looking worried.
Roman touched his lip, finding fresh blood there. “I can’t,” he replied. “If Angela gets to the point where she’s ready to explain, you’ll be the first to know. But until then, not even the devil himself could pry the information out of me.”
Abel blew out a harsh breath but eventually nodded. “Fair enough.”
Salvatore dragged himself to his feet, moaning as he rubbed his side. “Damnit. My poor spleen.” He offered Roman a hand, which he gratefully accepted, pulling him in close for a hug. “Is she back yet?”
“Not yet. Morrigan said she was cool, though. Whatever that means,” Roman muttered.
Sal slapped Roman on the back. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up, so you don’t give her a heart attack when she returns?”
“What if she doesn’t?” The insecure question was out before he could lock it away. A part of him wanted to kick his own ass. He hated showing weakness of any kind. But the other part—the bigger part—reminded him it was only Sal and Abel. His friends. His family. His brothers.
“What if she doesn’t have a heart attack? That would be a good thing, Roman,” Abel pointed out, touching his blackening eye gingerly.
Roman huffed and shot his irritating friend a frustrated look. “I meant, what if she doesn’t come back?”
Abel looked at him like he was crazy. “Don’t be an idiot. Of course, she’ll be back. She loves your stupid ass.”
“She did,” Roman corrected. “I do believe she truly did. But now... I’m not so sure.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Angela and Morrigan parted ways in the main foyer. Morrigan said something about shooting some targets that didn’t run away from her.
“They don’t scream or bleed,” Morrigan added with a shrug. “It kind of takes all the fun out of it. But there’s something to be said for pulling a trigger and feeling that recoil.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Angela said, making her way to the private elevator that would take her directly to Roman’s floor and his opulent apartment.
She watched the numbers tick up slowly, catching a look at her reflection in the shiny doors. She looked pale, and she had dark smudges beneath her eyes. But what was worse than her shitty appearance was the shitty way she felt. She had an apology to make. Again.
“Why do I keep blaming him for crap? Why do I keep running?” she asked herself. The answer was simple, she supposed. Trauma. But her reactions pissed her off.
Muttering about big girl panties and partnerships, she made her way through Roman’s truly lovely home. It was decorated expensively but not pretentiously, and the warm feeling had come as a surprise to her when she first began staying overnight. Instead of being afraid she’d spill something on his twenty-thousand-dollar couch, she now happily curled up on it with her feet up alongside two fast-growing kittens. The man didn’t even complain when the cats tried to use his furniture as scratching posts. Of course, it helped that Roman had set up a cat wonderland in one of the spare rooms. Angela smiled just thinking about it.
She almost made a detour into the cat room to check on the two brothers, knowing they would be in there because they didn’t come running. They were no doubt curled up together, snoozing the afternoon away. But that would have been procrastinating. So she bypassed the kitten cave, heading down the hallway instead.
She found him in the main living space of his personal quarters. He was staring out of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the truly spectacular view below. His back was to her, and he was bare from the waist up. His naturally tanned skin had a light sheen to it, and her belly fluttered, her pulse picking up. He really was a beautiful man.
She took a step further into the room, alerting him to her presence. He stiffened minutely before turning slowly.
“Roman!” Angela gasped, taking in his bruised and bloody form. “What happened? Are you okay?”
Was it the Foreman? Angela quickly wondered. Had he touched her man? The thought sent fury flooding her system.
Roman looked surprised for a moment, glancing down at his bruised and lacerated knuckles before touching his face carefully. “I’m fine. It’s nothing. Just a sparring session with the guys.”
“What guys?” she demanded.
“Abel and Sal,” Roman supplied.
“Abel and Salvatore did this? What the hell?” She spun on her heels, determined to give them a piece of her mind.
“Where are you going?” Roman called after her.
“To teach those boys some manners,” Angela replied. “How dare they bloody you,” she muttered to herself, already plotting some inventive ways to get back at them.
“Thank god...”
