Page 38 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. Two
“Sweetheart.”
“Hmm?” She focuses on pulling back the blankets on the bed so she doesn’t have to look at me.
“What did he say to you?”
At the anger in my voice, she looks up. “He…” Her voice wavers, so she clears her throat. “He called me a coward.”
“What?”
“He’s wrong,” she says decidedly as she climbs into bed. “And what he thinks doesn’t matter.”
“Wren…” I lower myself onto the edge of the mattress and place my hand on her thigh.
“Do you think it’s true?” she whispers.
I almost laugh. “Oh, absolutely not. You’ve had so many brave moments over the past couple weeks, sweetheart. You’re far from a coward in my eyes.”
That seems to give her some amount of peace. With a sigh, she pulls the blankets over her shoulders. “Are you… are you coming to bed?”
“No. But I’m staying in here with you, don’t worry.”
She relaxes even more. “Thank you.”
I kiss her forehead before shutting off the light. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Goodnight.”
There’s a desk in the corner of the bedroom, so I sit there, angling my laptop away from Wren and lowering the brightness so it doesn’t disturb her.
If I’m going to stay up, I might as well work. Lately I’ve been focusing on doing deep dives into Ludo’s inner circles. First, his peers and allies, and second, his trusted employees. Security, his right-hand man, his most favored enforcers, et cetera.
Over the past week, I’ve found a few things of interest. Possibly the top one is that the Stallards—Aubrey’s family—are close friends with a couple of the judges in the Philadelphia area. On its own, it’s nothing of importance. But when it’s paired with the fact that Ludo had lunch with two different judges last week, a pattern starts to emerge.
Everything I find, I meticulously add to our shared spreadsheet. It’s where we keep everything of importance in regards to Ludo’s downfall. For a plan as complicated as ours, we have to keep our facts straight.
For about an hour, Wren tosses and turns in bed. Her breathing doesn’t even out, so I don’t think she even dozes off. When I glance over at her, she’s staring at the ceiling, but I don’t think she’s registering it. In fact, I don’t think she’s here at all. Not in the ways that matter.
“Wren?”
She blinks. “Yeah?”
“What do you need, sweetheart?” I keep my voice low, not wanting it to carry to Elliot and Oliver’s room.
“For my mind to shut off,” she whispers. Slowly, she turns her head so she’s looking up at me. “It won’t stop. It’s one chaotic, anxious thought after another, and I can’t seem to break away.”
“And how do you get your mind to shut off?”
“Reading, usually. But I don’t want to turn a light on.”
For a moment, I’m not sure what to do. But then an idea forms in the back of my mind. It’s one I might regret—I’m not sure—but I’m a man of my word. I’ll always do what I can for them.
I pull my shirt over my head and climb onto the bed. “Can I touch you?”
The blankets rustle as she turns to face me. “Yeah.”
Pushing the covers back, I slip my arms underneath her and pull her into my lap so she’s straddling me. I lean against the headboard, placing her hands on my chest and covering them with my own. “Explore me.”
“Explore you?”
