Page 35 of End Game

Leo shuffled us forward. “I’ll keep a close eye on her,” he confirmed a bit stiffly, though his earlier jealousy seemed mostly in check. “We need to get her home now.”

Charlea eyed him warily, and I could see the hesitation in her expression. She looked at me in silent question, and I gave her a nod. This is okay, I told her with a look. He can be trusted.

Her expression shifted. Softened. “I’ll reach out tomorrow to see how you’re doing,” she promised, pressing her hand to my arm before wrapping her own around herself.

I nodded. “Okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

An officer stepped toward us from Leo’s other side. “Sir, we need to get statements from both of you.”

“Tomorrow.”

“I’m afraid I must insist. The sooner we can get statements, the more detailed they tend to be. If I could just have you . . .”

“Tomorrow,” Leo gritted out. He tilted his head toward me. “She needs rest. I’ll ensure that both of us are made available to your office for whatever questions you may have, tomorrow.” The ease with which he commanded authority in his effort to protect me was striking.

The officer sighed and held out a hand with a card pressed between his fingers. “Give me a call tomorrow morning. And, uh”—he turned to me—“get some rest.”

“Thank you,” I replied on an exhale.

Leo continued to navigate us through the club, steering us toward the back entrance. I realized there was still a twenty-minute walk ahead to get to my apartment, and I nearly crumbled to the floor at the thought.

“I drove my car today,” Leo murmured reassuringly at the curve of my ear, as if he’d read my thoughts.

“Oh, thank god,” I mumbled. I was exhausted. I wanted to bury myself beneath my comforter and disappear for the next week.

Chapter Fourteen

It had finally begun to rain, the current downpour strong enough to have us both soaking wet by the time we reached Leo’s car—a swanky black two-door Bentley that did not belong in the parking lot behind Larkspur. He opened the passenger door before lowering me into the seat, both hands braced around my forearms. “I’m going to ruin your car,” I groaned as he pulled the seat belt across my chest and clicked it in. This was too nice of a car for me to be a sopping mess inside of, especially knowing I’d just been lying on the floor of a nightclub bathroom. The seat alone was probably more expensive than my whole apartment.

“Fuck the car,” Leo muttered as he shut the door before rounding to the other side, glancing my way as he got in and put his own seat belt on. I could almost feel the hum of his anger as he took off, navigating through the downtown city streets. It was only a few minutes before he was pulling into the parking garage beneath his building, forgoing the valet and finding a spot as close to the elevators as possible.

“You brought me to your place.” It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “I need to stay with you tonight, and I didn’t want to assume an invitation to yours. But if it makes you more comfortable, I’m happy to grab an overnight bag and take you there, instead.” Despite the anger that still rippled across his face, his words were soft and gentle.

I considered that for a moment. As much as I wanted my own bed, I didn’t like the idea of Leo seeing my apartment. It would be . . . too intimate. Even through the dull ache of my current numbness, it would only take one more crack in the iron tonight before I truly shattered apart. Plus, I was supposed to start staying here tomorrow anyway—his parents were coming into town, and we still had our contract to abide by. “I’m okay staying here, but I don’t have any clothes.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes falling to my fishnets before rising back to my face. “I have plenty of extra shirts and sweats. You can use whatever you want . . . if you’re comfortable with it, that is. I can also ask the concierge to pick something up for you, though I’m not sure if any stores are open at this hour.”

I wrung my hands together. “No, that’s okay. I’m sure whatever you have will be fine.” My tongue felt thick in my mouth at the thought of wearing Leo’s clothing, but I didn’t have any fight in me. He helped me avoid the hospital, even though I knew he wanted me to go. The least I could do was make this easy on him.

He got out of the car before helping me out, then guided me toward the elevator with a strong but careful hold. As much I wanted to walk on my own, my head was pounding and my knees felt weak as they carried me forward, so I gratefully leaned into Leo’s frame and allowed him to carry some of my weight.

When we entered his dark penthouse, Swift came running to investigate, meowing happily as she danced at Leo’s feet. Dolly sat stoically on the area rug in the living room, tail twitching as she observed from a distance. I hadn’t expected to see them again. “I’m not sure Dolly likes me,” I said quietly.

Leo almost smiled, the ghost of it there and gone in an instant. “She’s a little tougher to crack, but she’ll come around—don’t worry.”

I’m not worried, I wanted to say. I might be spending more time here over the next week, but I wasn’t going to let myself get too close to anything or anyone during my stay. It’d be better that way—this was nothing but a transactional agreement. Business.

We moved toward Leo’s bedroom, where I’d run from only days ago never expecting to return, and my body tensed halfway down the hallway. He must have felt it, because he looked down at me with an edge of concern. “You can take my room tonight. You’ll have the bed all to yourself,” he assured. As though my concerns were tied only within the sleeping arrangements.

But it was more than that. The last time I was here, I spent hours allowing myself to fantasize about what it would be like to belong to a place like this with someone like Leo. Imagining what it would be like if this were my home, too. And now, I was going to have to act out that very fantasy in real life and do it well enough to convince his parents.

It seemed so . . . unbelievable.

Pressure pinched between my shoulder blades, driving further discomfort through my body. Leo stood patiently, giving me an opportunity to argue against sleeping in his bed. But I was too tired to argue. I’d have to sleep there anyway, right? The show must go on.

“Works for me.” It came out in a whisper, and I hoped he wouldn’t press the subject further. But he didn’t, and we began moving again toward the half-open door at the end of the hallway. “I’d like to shower, please. I . . .” I paused, finding the right words. “I need to feel clean.”

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