“It’s her parents. They flew in on the red-eye.”
“My parents?” RoseLyn’s eyes open wide and she leaps up. Probably too fast as she sways, then puts her hand to her head and pauses a second. She recovers fast. “I’ll be there as soon as I’m dressed.”
While she’s speaking, she’s already picking through the clothes on the floor, picking up her panties she discarded last night, and wrinkling her nose in disgust.
“Can’t help with those,” I say, pulling myself up, more slowly than her and favouring my ribs. “But I can lend you a tee and some sweats.”
“A tee would be great, but these will have to do.” She pulls her jeans on as I ignore the protestations of muscles which have stiffened during the night, and go to one of my drawers. I pull out a Satan’s Devils’ tee, knowing I’ll love seeing her wear an emblem of my club.
She hesitates for just a moment. “I should really have a shower.”
“Where’s my daughter?” a loud voice shouts.
Rolling her eyes, RoseLyn pulls the shirt on. Not wanting her to face her parents alone, I slowly get dressed. I’m just about finished when RoseLyn’s tamed her hair. A fleeting thought crosses my mind. At least I won’t have to pretend I’m her boyfriend. I’m that for real. Although I’ve stated I want her as my old lady and we haven’t had that discussion about how long term will work for us, I know I don’t want to see her walk out of my life and will do everything I can to prevent it.
“Ready?” I hold out my hand, and she takes it.
But when I go to move forward, she holds back. “I don’t know what to say to them.” She glances up, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so unsure.
Her parents have been lying to her all her life. She wasn’t born to her mother. Though blood doesn’t matter, the perpetuation of a lie does, and I can understand how hard it is for her to accept it. She’ll have to re-evaluate everything she’s ever known as truth, and that’s leaving aside that her parents had apparently chosen her, and callously left her twin behind.
One way or another, whatever happens today is assured to change their relationship.
Even as the harried voice shouts again, and the slamming of doors tells me we’re not the only ones to have been woken, I turn her around to face me.
“RoseLyn, I know we’ve had no time to talk about this, and I know I’ve given you no real reason to trust me. But I know in here,” I thump my heart, “how important you are to me. You’ve got me. Whatever happens in the world outside this door, I’ll be there for you.”Just as you were for me,I silently add.
Her eyes stare into mine as though trying to read my sincerity, then she tightens her fingers against my hand and takes a step forward. “Nothing will be made better by waiting,” she says.
The sound of voices arguing downstairs reaches my ears as we move to the staircase. Still holding her hand, I use my other to grip the bannister so I can navigate the steps carefully.
As soon as we start to descend, a shrill voice cries, “Rose.” Martina comes running forward, quickly followed by Rufus. “Rose, are you alright?” Her mother’s eyes are peering at her closely, seeming to study the way that she moves in case someone’s hurt her.
Rose comes to a halt. Though the room is filling with men roused from their beds, she seems oblivious to anyone other than her parents being in the room. Apparently she’s reluctant to take one step toward them before asking the burning question that trumps even the one about why they’re here this early.
In a quavering voice, she bursts out, “Am I adopted?”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
Petty
Perhaps her outright approach was the best one. It certainly knocks them off the offensive. While Rufus stammers out a denial, Martina’s hand goes to her mouth, and she lets one too many seconds pass before she cries, “What on earth would make you ask such a thing?”
RoseLyn’s fingers curl around mine so tightly they almost cut off the blood supply, but I make no protest or sound.
“I think we should take this to my office.” I hadn’t notice Red was around, but he seems to have been woken by the commotion like everyone else.
It’s a good suggestion. I know RoseLyn would prefer to wash this particularly dirty linen in relative privacy.
While Rufus looks at Red as if wondering who he is, Red’s obvious authority cuts through, and he automatically follows in the direction that’s been pointed out. Once inside, I see him eye the large Satan’s Devils flag hanging behind Prez’s desk with more than a touch of unease. I don’t blame him. At first glance, the large rendition of the grim reaper looming over three demons with red glowing eyes can be intimidating. Not for the first time, I read it as an interpretation of Red ruling over his tribe of Devils, all willing to do his bidding.
Red barks for a prospect to bring in another chair. That makes four in total in front of the desk. I hide my smile, no one, except him, would dare sit behind it.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Prez begins to back out of the door.
“Stay.” I find the word coming out of my mouth. I’m not quite sure why I want him here. Some things are going to be said in here that some of us might come to regret, but he makes a good arbitrator.
“RoseLyn?” Red defers to her, instead of her parents.
