Page 106 of Clean Point

But the longer he stayed, the more reassured I felt that this wasn’t temporary. Like we both felt the same way, that his whispered ‘I love you’ spoken in between a trail of kisses as he traced the freckles on my back were truly real. And the possibility of that was enough to wrap me up warm, and squeeze my heart one notch too tight.

Another knock on the door interrupted my train of thought, keeping me paused in the doorway, before I turned to him, stretching up only to kiss him quickly on the lips.

‘Just keeping you to myself.’ I smiled. ‘I’m too selfish to share you.’

I gently closed the bathroom door behind me, hating every moment I was away from him, hating that he had to stay in the bathroom because of who could be on the other side of the door, obviously growing increasingly impatient as they knocked yet again.

I grabbed the doorknob before remembering the peep hole. Pressing my eye to the glass, I peered through, brows furrowing together at the sight of brown hair. When I finally opened the door, taking a moment to try to collect myself, I’d still not processed the single thought running through my head.

What the fuck is Dylan Bailey doing outside my room?

Her eyes narrowed on me instantly, as if it was instinct, her hand firmly on her hip as her lips pressed together into a firm line before she practically yelled, ‘You could’ve warned me.’

My brows creased together. ‘About what?’

She rolled her eyes at me, head tilting on huff. ‘Matteo? Your father?’

‘I’m pretty sure I tried,’ I huffed, fingers gripping the door as panic began to race through my body.

‘Yeah, yeah.’ She shrugged off my words with a careless wave of her hand. ‘Vague meaningless warnings from somebody I categorically don’t trust will not fight off the devil.’

‘What happened?’ I asked. She looked okay, relatively fine, that snarky mask of hers well in place. What had been so bad that it brought her to my doorstep?

It must’ve been my reaction, because she calmed down, the sarcasm turning serious as her brows raised. ‘Maybe you could at least invite me in first. Or do you plan on interrogating me on your doorstep?’

I hadn’t yet fully registered her words as I moved out of the way, and she strolled into my room as if it was no big deal. As if her being here didn’t signal that the worst had happened, that my actions had meant I’ve failed to protect another person.

She looked around the room, her gaze catching on the unmade bed, both sides clearly slept in. ‘Where’s Loverboy?’

I kept my eyes trained on her, trying not to give anything away. ‘Not here.’

I still didn’t know if I could trust her. After everything, she left Rhodes in the night with little more than a note telling Jon she was gone, and presumably ran straight to Matteo. There was still so much distance between us.

Her smirk only widened as her eyes went to the closed bathroom door. ‘Stuffed him in the bathroom? Real classy move there, Sinclair.’

My patience snapped, my own protective instinct riled up by her comment. ‘You know, Dylan, I don’t know what you want from me.’

I regretted for a moment all those times I’d tried to warn her about him, told her my door was open if she needed it. She obviously hadn’t listened to a single thing I’d tried to say, and whatever had gone down, I was sure to get the blame for it again.

Dylan fell silent, instead slinking her way around my room as if she was still hesitating about even being here. Reaching the small dining table beside the large window, she pulled a chair out, before unceremoniously, sitting down and crossing her legs. She took a moment to get comfy, as if wielding my own impatience against me.

‘I want in,’ she said bluntly, her eyes fixed on me. I paused, still reading the room, trying to put the pieces together.

‘On what?’ I asked carefully, narrowing on her again. I still kept my distance, standing across the room near the entrance. At least if she turned on me, I’d be closest to the exit.

‘Your revenge plot,’ she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘I want to take down Matteo.’

I laughed. ‘Take him down? You brought him back. And what do you know about revenge? You don’t even know what happened.’ I waved her off, ready to turn to the door, not even the slightest bit interested. She had nothing to offer me but more confusing vague statements. Because if she knew what had happened, what had really happened, would she have shown up at my door?

‘I know he paid that umpire off.’

I hardly managed a single strangled word, turning again to look at her. ‘What?’ I tried desperately to scan her face for some sort of sign of a lie, waited for the joke to crack open and the moment to loosen the band tightening itself around my gut.

Instead, she continued, her expression remaining straight. ‘The one from your singles match? The one that made a real stink about everything you did, to the point where even I thought it was excessive. I saw them together. They shook hands, and I didn’t put it together until after your match.’

I shook my head. ‘That doesn’t prove anything.’

‘I sat next to Matteo during that match. He kept making these signals to the umpire. We all know what coaching during a game looks like, and it was like he was telling him what to do,’ she explained. I found myself sinking into the chair next to her, my legs unable to support my weight as I thought through her words, playing the memory back over.

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