Want a tease of Brendan?
Brendan is releasing tomorrow!
Want a tease of what to expect?
It didn’t take long for me to figure out Rosalie was struggling in life.
It wasn’t the first impression I got of her the previous night at the bar when she was in my arms and we were together. But now that I was in her apartment and I could see how small the space was, along with all the bills scattered around everywhere—it was obvious.
She was struggling to make ends meet.
And even though I didn’t know her and she probably hated me at this point, I wanted to help her.
I didn’t know where it came from. I couldn’t understand what had suddenly transformed me into a bleeding heart. I definitely hadn’t experienced the same sentiments about someone else before.
I gripped her arms tightly and she stared up at me with a look on her face that intended murder. She despised me with every fiber of her being and I wanted to know why.
“Look,” I said, calming myself. I let her go and she stumbled backwards. “Why don’t we sit down and have a conversation about this? You can tell me exactly why you don’t want my help,” I said.
Maybe I hadn’t thought those words through. I said the first thing that came to my mind.
Rosalie’s brows furrowed. Her eyes darted around the apartment.
“Help? Why would you want to help me? With what? What is that supposed to mean?” she hissed.
“Scratch that. I meant, why are you so opposed to my presence in your life?”
Her nostrils flared. I saw the redness of rage rising up her neck. If she was mad before—it was nothing compared to the anger I saw in her eyes now.
“You think you need to help me? Just because you came to my aid last night? Which any decent human being should have done.”
“And yet, I was the only one in a bar full of people,” I said.
Rosalie shook her head. “So what do you want me to do? Fall on my knees and worship you? Declare you a saint?”
Her lips trembled and I couldn’t tell if she was about to burst into tears or a scream.
“I think I know exactly why you’re here,” she hissed. I knew it wasn’t going to be good—whatever she was about to say. “You came looking for me because you think I owe you. Because you came to my rescue last night. Because you…made me…you made me feel good.” Her lips continued to tremble. “You want what is owed to you.”
I had enough. This wasn’t going anywhere. I closed the gap between us and grabbed her hip, pulling her to me again.
“You’re right about that. And you better make good on what you owe,” I growled.