Page 8 of Arden and the Girl Downstairs

Still nothing.

Deciding I have no other option, I get ready to yell through the door. I know there are other people here probably still sleeping, but I have no other choice. I’m not leaving.

“Open the door you stupid twat waffle,” I shout while banging on the wood.

Still nothing. What the hell? He can’t be that deep of a sleeper.

“Wake up!” I try again.

Nada.

“God damn it,” I whisper-yell as I kick the door, hurting my toe in the process. I really need to stop beating up the doors in this house.

“Here, allow me,” a deep, gravelly voice says beside me, scaring the bejesus out of me. What are these people? Ninjas?

I step back, clutching my chest.

“Crap, give a girl some warning.”

“Sorry, Ella. I didn’t mean to scare you, but it’s pretty pointless. The rooms are soundproof, and Arden can sleep through an actual thunderstorm.”

Once I’ve calmed down, I look up at Rhys and sigh. Damn it. I’ll have to wait until I see him come home one day to bail him up.

“Oh, okay. I’ll just head off.” I can’t keep the deflation out of my voice. The adrenaline is wearing off and I can feel the stabbing pain in my stomach again.

“Wait, is everything okay?” Rhys asks, and I look at him a little weird.

I’ve only met him a few times, but he doesn’t seem like the type of person to ask or care about someone outside of his friends and family.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I mumble and move past him to the stairs.

“Here, I’ll let you into his room. But come and see us in the kitchen on your way out. The girls are about to start breakfast,” he says as he places his thumb on the lock pad. I hear aclick,and he opens it for me.

“You can tell us what he did over coffee,” Rhys says, waiting for me to step into the room.

“Uh, sure. This won’t take long.” I shuffle past him, but his only response is to close the door.

I’m engulfed in darkness, and it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust.

All I can smell is a lingering scent of coconut, lime, andmanwhen I enter his room. I don’t know how to explain it, it just smells like maleness—in a surprisingly good way.

I step further into the area and gasp. This space is bigger than the entry. It’s like an apartment inside a house. I take a guess and head towards the room with the open door but stop at the kitchen area and fill up a glass of water.

Making my way into the room, I flick on the light and watch for a moment. He has the same troubled look on his face that I see every night in the bar, even though he’s dead to the world.

His strong jaw has some light stubble, and his dirty blond hair is all ruffled, like he’s been tossing and turning in his sleep. There’s a haunted look on his face—I don’t know what he’s dreaming about, but it’s obviously not unicorns and puppies. The stone-coloured sheet is draped across his hips, leaving his abs on display.

Uhhh, are those things even normal?

I have never seen abs like that. Surely, they aren’t real . . .

My fingers itch to touch them.

It takes a hot minute for my mind to catch up, my stupid hormones briefly distracting me from my task.

Right. I’m pissed at him.

Stomping over to the bed, I don’t even hesitate before I tip the entire glass of water on his face.

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