Page 89 of Quinlan

That we didn’t compromise on her workstation. Got her a top-of-the-line electronic desk and agronomic chair so her neck and back would never ache again.

And the walk-in closet. I want to be there when she sees the clothes upon clothes filling up the racks, the shelves, the drawers. We selected each item for her. Us, not a stylist or even the shop assistants.

Us.

We never discussed why we put so much…love…into her room. We just did.

And it’s clear I can’t discuss it with her, either.

Wish I could.

Later.

There’ll be time. When I’m less furious and turned on by her rejection.

When she realizes this is it. The end of the road for her. Which she will.

After all, we have all the time in the world.

“Everythingwewanted, yes,” I correct. “And yet, I’d like to apolo—”

This time, when she shoves the door, I let her. Back up and watch with a satisfied smirk. She slams it in my face with so much fire that I forget about the sad look in her eyes.

She’s back. The heavy object she drags on the floor of her bedroom just goes to prove how alive she is.

Despite the tears, Quinlan’s definitely not down.

We could fight again later.

Plus, how adorable is it that she believes she can barricade herself inside. That she can keep us out.

Very.

My phone vibrates in my pocket when I think of all the ways I can subdue this feral creature. Despite the relentless need to stay right outside her room, I go over to mine and close the door to keep the call private.

Our doors and walls block out most of the noise. They aren’t soundproof.

“Missed me already, sweetheart?” Amused.

That’s what I sound like, at least. For the benefit of my friends, mainly. They need things to be okay with Quinlan. For everything to run smoothly.

“Is she there?” Liam asks first.

She should be. I’m definitely not. Being far away from her. Giving her space to acclimate. An allusion that she’s safe, even though I can walk in at any moment.

She deserves that.

I wish I didn’t care about what she deserves.

That just sounds crazy. So I keep it that to myself.

“What about food?” Rome’s second. “You gave her something to eat?”

We don’t have cameras here, for obvious reasons. Cameras can be hacked. Anyone—the police, included—could gain access to our apartment. To the plans we discuss late at night. The plotting that could get us locked up.

“She’s in her room. I’m in mine.” I lower myself to the edge of my king-size bed. Head in my palm, I prepare for what’s to come from Rome after I tell him, “No… She’s not hungry.”

“Rome, she probably had breakfast at home.” I hear Liam talking in his low, comforting voice.

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