Page 85 of Ruthless Keeper
“If you ever fall in love, you’ll understand. It’s rapid, it comes out of nowhere, but it’s unmistakable. When it happens, it happens, and you’re done for. You’ll do whatever you can to keep the womanyou love with you.” Conventional boundaries set forward by societal expectations disappear. Limits and morality disappear. The only thing that remains is a burning, aching need for your significant other. For the person who’s overtaken your heart and soul.
“By the sounds of it, it’s a fucking disease,” Eric says, disgust coating every syllable. “I hope I never catch it.”
I quietly make my way back toward the bedroom, carefully opening the door a crack. Just enough to see Scarlett, her red hair illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the window, her soft features looking so peaceful as she rests.
“It is a disease,” I agree quietly. “It’s also salvation.”
That makes Eric pause thoughtfully. After a moment, he says, “You really do love her, don’t you? This isn’t lust, infatuation, or a savior complex. It’s something much deeper.”
“That’s exactly what I just said.”
“Yes, and I may be starting to believe you.” Eric sighs. “Have her give me a call. I said things I shouldn’t have—“
“Yes, you fucking did, and I won’thave herdo anything. She’ll talk to you once she’s ready.”
Eric pauses again. The silence stretches between us, loud and poignant. After a while, he finally speaks. “Fair enough. Then please pass on that I want to speak to her.” He hangs up.
I sigh, turning to gaze at the ceiling for a few beats. With the intel I’ve just gained, it’s going to be a long fucking night. I have to wake up Max and Cain for a debrief—shit like this can’t wait until the morning.
I quietly slip into the bedroom and press a kiss to Scarlett’s forehead. “I’ll be back soon, baby,” I promise. “I love you.”
She says something incoherent in her sleep and rolls over. I kiss the shell of her ear, then slip away into the night.
Chapter Thirty-One
Scarlett
Greyson’s distracted in the morning, but he’s also clingy. I’m starting to learn that the days when he demands I sit on his lap during meals and manually feeds me, bite by bite, are days when he’s stressed.
I used to abhor this ritual. I used to despise it, because I saw it as him robbing my agency from me and replacing it with his own—and thatiswhat it used to be. He wanted to show me that he controlled me completely, down to when, how, and what I ate.
Now, I see it in a different light, because it is different. It’s not a power-play anymore. It’s his need to be a caretaker peeking through—it’s his need to reassure himself that he has me forever. I’ve inadvertently morphed into his greatest, if not only, support system.
And, to my surprise, I don’t mind it. I’m starting to find that I like it when he turns to me. It makes me feel important, even powerful.
“You need to eat, too,” I murmur when he lifts another forkful of an omelet to my mouth.
“I’ll eat later.” He prods the food at my lips; I part them, allowing him to treat me like a child. It’s not as infantilizing as I expected it to be, because I know that’s not how it’s meant—not these days, at least.
When he goes in for another forkful, I shake my head. “I’m full.”
His expression turns stony. “That’s not enough.”
I sigh. “Greyson, that omelet is twice the size I am. I’m a small woman. There’s no way I’ll be able to finish the entire thing.”
His eyes grow hooded as he stares at me. I blink, raising my eyebrows. “What?”
“I like it when you call me Greyson.”
I lift a shoulder. “You’ll always be Monster to me. But you can be Greyson, too.”
He smiles. “I like that very much.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Now, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
A blank mask falls over his face. I shake my head, frowning. “Nope. You want this to be a relationship. A relationship requires openness from both parties. If you’re going to shut me out, I’ll return the favor inspades.”
At that, he concedes with a sigh. “Alright. Your brother called me last night.” When I stiffen, he wraps both arms around my waist, resting his hands on my stomach. “He told me that your father has moved positions—so either he knows we’re coming, or there’s dissent in his ranks. I was up until five talking over new strategies with Max and Cain—and, these days, talking with Cain is not an enjoyable pastime for me.”
