Page 113 of Carnival
“Are you sure?” Disappointment coats his tongue, shoulders slumping.
“I’m sure,’’ I smile. “Trust me, a lifetime in prison is the worst imaginable punishment for her.’’
EPILOGUE I
Rose
SIX MONTHS LATER
Asoft morning breeze hits my face, my hair falling back. Below the balcony, people are already bustling, the streets filled as everyone goes to work. The chilly spring morning doesn’t bother me, and despite the goosebumps that appear on my skin, warmth fills me.
A cup of hot coffee rests in my hand, the steam of it hitting my chin. My eyes close on their own, the smell of freshly brewed beans and the sound of busy streets bringing a sense of calm. It’s peaceful, just like the past mornings have been.
Slowly, I turn around, looking through the wide glass doors.
James is soundly asleep, with one of his arms under the pillow. His hair falls over his face messily, the thin sheet covering the bottom part of his body. The tattoos on his chest cause mine to tighten, the sight never failing to make me fall head over heels for him, all over again.
I finish my coffee, silently walking into the kitchen, letting it down in the sink. It’s too early, but I have found myself unable to sleep as of late. Therapy is helping with all of the issues I’ve been dealing with, and as of right now, I’m on a couple of meds to help me cope with it all.
James attends some of the sessions, too. Although he can’t exactly understand the guilt I’m feeling, he’s trying to see it from my perspective, and that alone is enough. He is trying, just for my sake.
Carefully, I crawl into the bed next to him, and in a second, his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me into him. My head rests on his chest, and his hold on me tightens. He’s still half-asleep, but even in such a state, he’s constantly looking for me.
“Where were you?” He mumbles, his morning voice groggy, deep, and enough to make me want to pounce on him.
“I was having some coffee.’’
He grumbles in response. Then, he catches me off guard, flipping us over. His arms tighten around my waist, his head buried between my breasts. He takes a deep inhale of breath, basking in my scent.
“Let’s sleep in some more,’’ he grunts, clearly irritated that he’s woken up before eight in the morning.
“We can’t,’’ I chuckle, stroking his hair. “We need to get to Hudson’s.’’
He lifts his head up, looking at me — though barely. His lids are half-closed, his nose brushing against mine. A giggle slips from me, and he pecks my lips gently.
“Fine,’’ he pulls back, sitting up, lifting his arms above his head to stretch.
The sight of him naked is something I’m still trying to get used to. That, and the fact that apparently, underwear is now forbidden in our home. He even locked all of them away, and then handed me a pair when I needed to go out. The man is insane, but in a way, I signed up for this when I moved in with him.
I can’t help but stare as he puts on a pair of black pants and a white dress shirt. Spending time with Hudson had its effect on James; he even started dressing similarly to him. Not that I’m complaining; men in suits have always been my kryptonite.
He tucks the shirt into his pants and adds a belt and a watch I got for his birthday last month. It has my name engraved on the back, and he’s been wearing it every single day. The thought of him wearing something from me makes my heart flutter, though I try to hide the flush of my cheeks under my hair.
“You’re staring,’’ James teases, the familiar smirk appearing on his face. “You should take a picture; it would last longer.’’
A sly smile tugs on the corner of my lips, and I pull my phone out. Before he can react, I start snapping pictures left and right, clearly capturing his annoying expression. Laughter fills the room as he snatches the phone from me, tosses it to the other side of the bed, and cages me between the bed and his body, his hands pinning my wrists above my head.
“What now?” He leans down, kissing my jaw. “Should I cancel with Hudson and punish you?”
That sobers me up quickly. “Don’t you dare.’’
He sighs, reluctantly letting go of me, and adjusting the bulge in his pants. “Fine, but this isn’t over. Now, get your cute ass out of bed, and get ready.’’
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I pick out an outfit that would give me the most confidence, with a pair of heels. Somehow, even after the state of my feet during the Vivian ordeal, I still find myself wearing high heels all the time. Looks like I’ve built pain resistance to them.
The drive is silent, except for the soft music on the radio. James drives, one hand on the steering wheel, the other one holding my thigh. My nerves start acting up the closer we’re getting to the De Santis residence, and I start second-guessing myself.
