Page 22 of Twisted Obsession

Moments later, he’s here. “Roisin?” he calls in a strained whisper-shout.

I step out from behind the bathroom door, my legs still shaky. "I'm here," I whisper back.

Dominic's eyes widen as he takes in my disheveled appearance and the state of the room. "Christ, what happened?"

"They were checking all the empty rooms," I say, my voice trembling. "I hid under the bed, but they almost found me. If that woman hadn't shown up when she did..."

Dominic runs a hand through his hair, looking agitated, but his words are comforting. “It’ll be okay. I’ll keep Tina registered to this room. No one will question it, so they won’t look here again. But from now on, I’m going to remain here with you all the time.”

I almost wilt with relief, just knowing he’s going to stay close.

He starts moving around the room, straightening things up. "We need to make this place look lived in, but not too much. A few personal touches here and there."

I help him lift the mattress back onto the frame and remake the bed, then I stand and stare at it, wondering if he’s going to stay here overnight. He’s a tall man; the couch will be far too small for him to get a comfortable night’s rest, and I really don’t want him to leave. “Um, tonight… maybe I could take the couch, and you can have the bed. I’d rather not be alone.” My voice trails off into a strained whisper as I wait on tenterhooks for his response.

Dominic pauses in his tidying, his eyes meeting mine. There's a softness there I haven't seen before, mixed with something else I can't quite identify. He clears his throat.

"That won't be necessary," he says gently. "I'll take the couch. I've slept in worse places, believe me."

I nod, both relieved and oddly disappointed. "Thank you," I murmur.

We finish putting the room back in order, working in companionable silence. Dominic leaves briefly, but for me, every second is like a nightmare. He returns with an evening meal for the two of us, and a duffle bag from which he produces a few items he brought back with him—a maid’s uniform, which he hangs on the handle of the wardrobe so it’s in full view, a couple of ornaments, and a photograph of a very Italian-looking couple. He arranges them casually around the room.

As night falls, the tension in my body begins to ease, but my mind is still racing. I perch on the edge of the bed, watching as Dominic makes up the couch with a spare blanket and pillow. We don’t talk much as we both get ready to turn in, but I still feel so much better knowing he’s here. I don’t think I’d even consider sleeping if he weren’t.

The exhaustion of the day catches up with me, and I fall asleep faster than I expected, but it’s a temporary reprieve. My body may have shut down, but it appears my mind has different ideas, and the last thing it wants to do is release me from torment.

Chapter

Eleven

DOMINIC

Okay, so the couch doesn't make the most comfortable of beds. It’s too short, and not wide enough, so whatever sleep I get is fractured, and I spend most of the night fidgeting around, trying to find a position that doesn’t give me a crick in my neck, or backache.

I’ve just started to doze when I’m interrupted by a muffled cry from Roisin. I sit up, rubbing my eyes, and listen. There it is again—a whimper, followed by thrashing sounds.

I swing my legs off the couch and pad across the room, seeing her tossing in the dim light filtering through the curtains. I’m not surprised that night terrors have struck after everything she’s been through.

"Roisin," I call softly, trying to rouse her. She doesn't wake, just continues to struggle against invisible demons.

I approach the bed cautiously. "Roisin, wake up. It's just a dream."

Her eyes fly open, wild and unfocused. For a moment, she doesn't seem to recognize me. Then awareness floods back, and she sags against the pillows.

"Dominic?" Her voice is small, fragile. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," I say, perching on the edge of the bed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head, and I turn to head back to the couch, but Roisin’s quivering voice stops me. “Dominic?” she repeats, then hesitates. "Could you... would you mind staying? Just for a little while?"

I nod and sit beside her, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from her body. She straightens the tangled sheets and murmurs her thanks.

There follows an awkward silence, where neither of us knows quite what to do next. “The bed’s big enough. We could share it so you can get some sleep, too. I promise I’ll stay over near the wall,” she says meekly.

I hesitate, weighing the propriety of the situation against Roisin's obvious distress and my own desperate need for a proper night's rest. Her face begins to crumple the longer I procrastinate, and it’s the forlorn look on her beautiful face that decides me. Finally, I nod and slide under the covers, careful to maintain a respectful distance.

"Thank you," Roisin whispers, her voice thick with unshed tears.

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