Page 7 of Tangled Rose

Chapter 6

After dinner is over, I get up and immediately begin to clear my place at the table, like I do at home. Given everyone’s surprised expressions and quiet chuckling, this seems to be the wrong thing to do.

Mike shakes his head, smiling, and Carissa murmurs, “That’s Darla and Greta’s job. They’ll feel they did something wrong if you start helping.”

“But—”

“You don’t have a cook or housekeeper, do you?” Beau asks.

Reluctantly, I put my plate down and shake my head. God, this is so fucking bizarre. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be waited on hand and foot like this all my life. I’m used to doing shit on my own. “If I can’t help here, I think I’m going to change and get a workout in, if that’s okay?”

Mike nods. “Of course. Use the same rules you would at any gym. In other words, if you’re lifting and know you need someone to spot you, just ask. One of us is usually around. And don’t forget to clean up after yourself. You’ll find what you need down there.”

“Will do. Thank you.” I grin as I race back up the stairs to change. I didn’t want to admit it earlier when I was sniping at Beau, but they have a home gym the likes of which I’ve never seen before. I’m totally jelly. But I guess right now I don’t have to be because I have full use of it until June. The thought makes me giddy. I’m itching to throw on my workout clothes and get in there. Finally, something in this entire place that will feel familiar. Something that doesn’t intimidate me.

* * *

An hour later, I jog up one set of stairs from the basement, cut through the kitchen, and head up another set of stairs to my bedroom. I feel a lot better after having gotten in a good sweat session. Toeing off my shoes, I peel my sports bra over my head, bend over to tug off my socks, and shimmy out of my shorts and panties before tucking everything into the big laundry basket.

Inside the bathroom, I turn on the faucet and, finding the water immediately hot, step in. The water pressure is amazing, and there are all sorts of settings, so I play around with them for a bit. There’s a waterfall showerhead that rains down from above and jets that spray from the side. It’s a seriously dreamy experience. And the best part is even a full fifteen minutes later the water is still as hot as when I got in. I’m not used to this at all; I’m going to go all soft being pampered like this.

With a sigh of contentment, I turn off the water and reach for one of the fluffy white towels on the rack on the wall, secure it around my head like a huge turban, and grab another for my body. I feel naughty doing that, too, as I was never allowed more than one towel at a time at home. Not so at the Danbrook castle, though, so I’ll take advantage of it while I can.

Clutching my towel at my chest, I wander out to the bedroom, whirl around, and flop to my back on the bed. I lie there for several minutes, basking in the knowledge that this is my new reality. It’s fucking surreal.

Even though my window is shut, I can hear noise coming from outside. I roll over and crawl to the head of the bed and kneel, peeking out the window. Micah, Griffin, and several other people who I haven’t met are in the pool, batting a volleyball back and forth over the net. Over in the hot tub, there’s another group of people—correction, it’s just girls… and Beau. He’s got two practically on his lap, with an arm around each. I roll my eyes. He can get outta here with his “You only see what you want to.” Maybe I did assume his popularity stems from his dad’s fame, but I’m sure as hell not wrong about this. He’s exactly the guy I’d seen in the photos on Instagram. I’m witnessing it with my own two eyes. He’s a player, plain and simple. Great. Just what I need—to be in a room adjacent to some guy with a constantly revolving door. I groan in frustration.

In my experience, if a guy can get more than one girl, he will. None of the guys who show up to watch my mom dance think twice about going into private rooms with her for lap dances where who the hell knows what happens. And because of that, I’ve always been super distrusting of men. I’ve seldom seen a man and woman have a stable, loving, trusting relationship. Are men even capable of existing within a relationship without a piece on the side? One where the pair is truly happy and devoted to each other? Monogamy. Ha. Seems to me like someone made that shit up. Mom does private dances for guys who don’t even have the decency to take off their wedding rings. She’d told me so in the same breath she’d told me she was putting me on the pill. At twelve.

One thing’s for sure: I don’t need to get myself all tangled up with Beau Danbrook, no matter how good he looks naked or how cute his stupid face is.

A while later I’m playing around on my phone and texting Ellie when my door flies open. I look up to see Beau hovering in the doorway. His mouth goes slack as he looks me over.

At first, I have no idea why he’s acting like a bumbling idiot, but then I realize I’m braless and he can probably see straight down my tank top since I’m lying on my stomach. I’m also not wearing pants, just panties, so there’s that. Not my fault he didn’t knock.

“Uh, sorry.”

I shrug. I’m in a leotard half the time. This doesn’t feel that much different to me. “No biggie. The tissues are on the counter in the bathroom if you need to wipe the drool off your chin.” I glance back down at my phone, feigning indifference. “What’s up?”

In my peripheral vision I see him look down at the floor for a few seconds, seeming to consider what he wants to say. That, or he’s trying to unscramble his brain. One or the other. “Um, I was thinking about having a few friends over tomorrow night to introduce you to some people before you start on Tuesday.”

“I thought you already did that tonight. But whatever you want. I’m not here to make friends,” I murmur, not looking up.

He laughs softly. “Well, cool, because with that attitude you won’t make any.”

“I’ll pass, anyway.”

“Aw come on, Lyla. Don’t tell me you’re going to be rude and not show up to your own party.”

I work my jaw back and forth. “I’ll think about it. Just so you know, though, those puppy dog eyes don’t work on me. I do what I want.” I shrug again, finally looking up and pinning my gaze on him. “Why don’t you run along back to your harem in the hot tub?”

He shoots me a smile with a tinge of a smirk, rubbing his palm over his stubble. “Ah. All right. I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“You’re jealous. And you’ve been spying on me again. What were you doing, Seven, watching us from up here?”

Crap. I shouldn’t have mentioned the hot tub. And now I think I get the nickname. Seven seems to be a reference to my covert operations earlier—like 007.God, I hope he doesn’t tell anyone. “Don’t flatter yourself.” I roll my eyes. “It took a two-second glimpse out the window to see you were up to no good.”

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