Page 73 of Ruthless Lord
I’m down at her side in a heartbeat. “Shit, you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She grins at me sheepishly. “Didn’t hear you come home.”
“Probably because you’re too busy searching my side of the closet.”
Her face turns red for a second. Something seems off about her reaction. It’s like she’s embarrassed that she got caught, but I don’t even know what she could be looking for in our own damn closet.
“I lost an earring,” she says finally.
“And you thought it ended up in my pockets?”
“Maybe? In the wash?”
“I get my suits dry cleaned.”
“Oh, right.” She keeps rubbing her head, and I wonder if she hit it too hard. I’m tempted to make her go to the hospital to get checked for a concussion, but that’s probably overkill. “I guess that’s why I didn’t find it.”
“Want me to keep an eye out?”
“Sure, that’d be great.”
I pause, waiting patiently. She keeps smiling awkwardly at me. Something about this situation feels extremely off. “Want to tell me what it looks like?” I ask finally.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” She clears her throat and pushes herself unsteadily to her feet. I stand and brace her shoulder, but she shrugs free. “It’s just a gold hoop.”
I frown slightly. “You’re rich. What do you care if you lose a gold hoop?”
“It’s my favorite.”
“Alright, I’ll look around for it.”
“Thank you.” She beams at me and hurries out of the closet.
What’s a girl worth more than a small country care about a simple gold hoop? Unless there’s some kind of sentimental attachment to it that she doesn’t want to talk about. I hesitate, looking around the closet for some clue to what she was really doing in here, before following her into the main room.
“I’m fighting tonight,” I tell her, deciding this is a good time to bring it up. “And I want you to come.”
She starts and cocks her head. Slowly, she sinks to the edge of the bed. “Why?” she asks.
“I like when you’re around.”
“No, I mean, the fight.”
“Been a stressful morning. I want to blow off steam.”
“Right. Okay.” She takes a deep breath and blows it out. “Anything I can do to change your mind?”
“Get rid of the rule.”
Her smile tightens. “No thanks.”
“Then I’m fighting. I want you there.”
“It’s not like I can actually do anything for you.”
“Call it moral support. You’re also handy with gauze and tape.”
“I’ve been told that before.” She shakes her head, looking down at the floor. “I really hate it, you know.”
