Page 125 of Ramsay

“Look,” he says, grabbing the picture I keep of Carmen and me by the bed. “You need to know a few things.”

Although I don’t think he’s really seeing the image, I’m still filled with a strange hum that I refuse to analyze and grab the photo before setting it back on the nightstand.

“Like what?” I ask and his eyes drop to mine. The silence that follows reminds me that he may be here and suffering some sort of weird psychotic break, but this guy who treats me with a gentleness I didn’t know he was capable of, is still hiding his own secrets.

His eyes flicker and he says, “We did know about the book or at least we thought we knew.”

I stiffen but he grabs me up and tightens his hold. Immobile, I glare at him until he sighs, shaking his head. “What did you expect? You were an unknown. And then you eavesdropped on shit that you shouldn’t have heard before walking into Jagger’s arms.”

“I didn't walk into his arms,” I say stiffly. It’s the only rebuttal I have because I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same in his position. Protect your back at all costs. I know that only too well.

It doesn’t change the hurt pulsing in my chest, but I am able to accept that there were factors guiding his douche behavior.

He raises a brow, an affectation that I’ve grown to hate and barks, “The dick had his hands all over you. I should’ve killed him myself.”

Wow. Burying my head in his chest, I hide the tears pricking my eyes. How long has it been since someone spoke so passionately about me? I’m not sure I can quantify the notion.

“If you didn’t have the book. How did your dad get it?” I ask, resting my cheek against his warm skin.

His arms go rigid, and I pause until he sags into the mattress and says with a heavy sigh, “I don’t know but I have my suspicions.”

“Which are?”

“Richard Yates is a man with many layers. Esteemed business tycoon. Loving father.”

His mouth twists at that and I kiss his chest. His brilliant eyes meet mine and he blinks before a shudder racks his body. After a moment he looks away and I breathe a little easier. Was it me or any show of affection that caused his reaction?

Tucking it away, I say, “And?”

“And a disgusting freak.”

“Disgusting like picking up girls downtown? Or disgusting like…?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I saw him.” I don’t know why, but I still can’t admit to what I know about his dad. Maybe because I’m afraid of what he’ll say or more likely do. I can’t bear more betrayal but more importantly, I don’t want to see him hurt over my own foolish choices.

“Of course, you did,” he grumbles, and I ignore his displeasure, waving my hand.

He growls and I squeak as he grabs me up and turns me over, so I’m lying on the mattress and he’s looming over me. He searches my gaze before pecking me on the lips. The sweet gesture presses at my chest but I push it away and tap his chin.

He dips his head and finally says, “He dabbles in all kinds of crazy shit. Him. Diem’s dad. Mr. G.”

“Mr. G,” I muse. So, there’s more to his creepy story. But why hide it?

“Ramsay,” I whisper, “if your dad had it and you knew nothing about it then you know…he’s affiliated?”

Ramsay blinks and slowly nods. My heart hurts at the resignation behind his eyes but I suspect he’s had a long ass time to come to terms with his dad’s perfidy.

“What are you not telling me?” I ask and Ramsay’s face falls before he rolls over and sits up, grabbing his head. I watch his shoulders ripple with an admiring eye before sitting up beside him and taking his hand.

He wraps his fingers around mine and I lean against his shoulder as he says, “You’re the only girl I’ve ever had at my home.”

“So?”

His mouth twists into a thin line and he pushes me gently away. At that, I say quietly, “You think maybe he’s using me to get to you?”

His blink is answer enough and grabbing his stiff arm, I squeeze gently, murmuring, “Why?”

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