Page 62 of Like a Hurricane

I cast my eyes over to him, and while he still smiles at me, I can see he was deadly serious.

“Yes well, you can’t kill all of them, some of them work for the hotel I own.”

It was a low blow, but the smile drops from his face and for a minute I feel better because at least it isn’t me he is teasing.

But then it melts away and I huff, “That was a joke, Rett.”

He quirks a brow and drops his eyes down to where my body is hidden by the fluffy white bubbles on top of the water, before he gets up and walks towards me. He perches on the edge of the tub.

“I like you a little possessive, princess,” He tucks a wet strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’m sorry,” I say to him, “I acted…”

“Don’t apologize,” He says sternly, “You’re human.”

I lean into his touch, “I like it here.”

He smiles and then he washes my hair like the damn unicorn he is.

“We’ll do it,” I say to Rett at lunchtime. He braided my hair after the bath, and I play with the end of it now.

“Are you sure?” He says.

“Yeah,” I agree, “I want to see my sister.”

“Okay,” he breathes, “I’ll claim the job when it comes up again.”

I wondered how we would do it. Fake my death. It was hard to think of since it stepped so close to reality. One wrong move for us would land with my death and faking it almost seemed like we were tempting fate.

But this was the quickest way for me to get back to my sister.

Not my life. Not any of it. Just my sister.

I’d watched the news earlier, saw her appeal, I’d lost count of how many she’d made for my safe return. The police had no trace of me, they had no leads on my father’s murderers, no leads on anything. My face was plastered across the internet, lists of my ‘achievements’ like a grocery receipt stamped beneath both old and new model photographs. There was nothing personal noted, except the fact that they liked to point out I was chronically single.

I’d made the mistake of looking at forums and on social media, but I’d seen one scathing post and promptly left that. I didn’t need to see that.

But I had seen photos taken unaware of my sister and she looked a mess. Tired and worn down, dark shadows from days of no sleep, her usually tan complexion pale and thin. She looked sick. Exhausted.

Grief was eating her alive.

Right now, she hadn’t just lost her father, she had lost me too.

She was the only Lauder standing and it was killing her.

Chapter Thirty

Arryn is still in the shower when I come up, the sound of the water running spilling in to the room from the slight crack in the door.

Slipping out of my clothes I walk into the steamy room, the scent of honey and lavender saturating the warm air. Her back is to me, long black hair falling down the length of her back, the water running rivers over her curves. I step in behind her, my hands finding her slim waist before they travel up and around to her breasts.

“Rett,” She breathes, leaning back against me. I kiss her neck, the hot water soaking me as I line my body up with hers. I should be alarmed at how easy it is for her to unravel me.

“We can’t,” She mumbles, stifling a moan when I pinch her nipples between my fingers.

“Why not?”

“I’m bleeding,” She curls her fingers around my wrists, stopping me from moving them.

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