Page 91 of Rosabel and the Billionaire Beast

But this time, I was touching her. And she was letting me.

I didn’t know who Ulrich had watching me—watchingus—or how he even afforded paying to have spies everywhere. The guy had been in jail on and off, yet he had the means to bribe people to do things for him? Had that been the purpose of Wolf Industries, and these people were his so-called employees?

Ever since those threatening notes first appeared, I had the sense that I was being tailed wherever I went. Like it or not, he had spies—and if Eudora’s unexpected appearance and warnings were any indicator, he had them here in Eureka Springs.

Hopefully, the police and Noah would find more.

I’d thought I could keep her safe. Granted, she might have been better off without me. But my hand was still aroundRosabel’s waist, and now that I’d allowed myself to touch her, I couldn’t stop.

She hadn’t pulled away. Her hair tickled my neck. Her cheek was soft against mine. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear her head was angled toward mine and her eyes were flicking to my mouth like she wanted me to kiss her.

Didshe want me to kiss her?

I inhaled the scent of vanilla in her hair, felt the smoothness of her hand against mine, the slimness of her waist, the way her body brought mine to life.

But Eudora’s words brought to mind a different rejection—one I’d brought on myself long before I’d met my pretty assistant.

I couldn’t have her. Not ever.

Which meant I couldn’t risk this touch any longer than I already had.

Reluctantly, hating every move my body made, I lowered my hand and put as much distance between us as I could—though in this cramped trolley, that wasn’t much.

The slightest traces of pink touched her cheeks. She cleared her throat, peered at me only long enough for me to turn away from her, and then angled her body away from me once more.

Crap.

I wanted nothing more than for the trolley to hit another bump. Or better still, to bring my arm around her for no other reason than that I wanted her close.

But I couldn’t go there, so I focused on Grandmother. On The Painted Lady and what I was going to do now.

No other house would do the job. Grandmother had raised my dad there. That place meant something to me, despite the stupid rift that had wedged between us since Grandfather died.

Not only that, but Grandmother meant a lot to me.

I’d never been able to tell her how much. As a youth, I’d spent a lot of time in her company. But then my teenage years had landed. I’d attended private schools and pursued my own interests. Then I’d left for college in Chicago.

I hadn’t done the best job of keeping in touch with her.

Who knew how much time she had left? I wasn’t sure what to do.

Even if Eudora hadn’t had another buyer, I couldn’t have gone through with the purchase. Not with all the suspicions popping up like prairie dogs with every word Eudora had spoken. I hadn’t gotten any kind of update from Noah since I’d called him to have him look into her.

I’d only called him a few hours ago. He probably needed more time before I followed up on that. Patience was not my strong suit.

The trolley swayed once more, and Rosabel tipped toward me again as it came to a stop. Her vanilla scent brushed beneath my nostrils, igniting the same longing I’d been fighting this whole time.

Get it together, Hawthorne.

She and I waited as the doors opened and the pack of people surrounding us slowly filed out. I fell in behind her, stepping out onto the street and breathing in the warm air. The sky was bright overhead, the summer evening kicking into full swing. People meandered, wandering to their own destinations, and Rosabel and I joined them at the crosswalk.

Even if I could allow myself to touch her again, Rosabel wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship with me. I couldn’t forget the harsh things she’d said—or just how true many of them were.

I supposed I had tried to buy her affection. First, by offering her a raise and then to pay for her dad’s treatment and care. Then with the book room and flute thing.

She’d seemed to like it, though.

Back before The Pact, when I’d dated Sylvia, she’d loved my financial gestures. It was when I stopped buying her things that the relationship had soured.

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