Page 51 of These White Lies
Not that she’d ever let herself admit she wants to be either of those things when she’s conscious.
Except she did that night.
With a mask on her face, she was honest.
“Fun is overrated. I’ll take peace if I can get it.”
She had been a woman who was surviving her life, not living it. It looks like that hasn’t changed.
Her features are relaxed, lips parted slightly. I crouch beside her and press the lid of the laptop shut before sliding it into her bag. She doesn’t stir.
Choosing not to think about what I’m doing, I bend and slip one hand behind her back and the other beneath her legs. Lifting her slowly, I brace for a startled noise or flinch. Instead, she tucks her head beneath my jaw with an unintelligible murmur.
Her body curls into mine, arms looping around my neck as she burrows in, and my chest burns. I stand there for a second, holding her close, inhaling her scent.
“You don’t have to burn tonight, Firefly,” I whisper and am rewarded with a nuzzle.
Turning toward the staircase, I see Sera and Finn standing in the doorway of the cyber room. Finn has his hands in his pockets, an amused half-smile tugging at his mouth. Sera is glowering, lips pressed tight in a thin line.
I hold her stare with one of my own. I know she gets the unspoken message I’m sending when she stalks back into the room. I love my sister, but this has nothing to do with her.
“Hope you know what you’re doing, Boss,” Finn offers before following my sister.
I don’t have a fucking clue.
Elite’s rules against keeping clients with a personal connection to their protection detail are there for a reason. When your feelings are involved, you can’t think clearly. And that puts you both at risk.
I know this. I wrote the damn rules.
And I don’t care.
The third floor is dimly lit and quiet. I type the code on the panel beside the landing, and the lock releases with a beep. Pushing the door wide with my shoulder, I carry Elizabeth down the short hall and into the open living space the bedrooms share.
It’s not fancy, but it’s not intended to be used for more than a night or two. Elizabeth is only our third client to stay here. The common room is simply an option if the client becomes stir-crazy in their windowless bedroom. Consisting of a small, non-descript sectional, wooden coffee table, and recliner, the room serves its purpose along with the small galley-style kitchen along one wall.
The room Finn prepared with fresh sheets and towels for her is on the right. I push the door open with my foot and cross to the bed, laying her down as gently as I can. Flipping the blanket over her legs, I hesitate, and it’s just long enough for her eyes to slowly open.
Blue eyes dilate with panic until she recognizes me standing inches away.
“I fell asleep.”
“You needed it.” Her lids are still heavy. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you in a little bit.”
“Don’t go,” she murmurs, lashes lowering.
I freeze, every muscle in my body locking tight.
Did I hear her right?
“Please. I don’t want to be alone.”
Well, fuck. That’s every good intention and the last shred of my professional integrity out the window. There is no way I can walk away and ignore the plea in her voice.
I shouldn’t stay. I know that. I should assure her she’s safe, and take the chair in the corner or the sofa outside the door…
Kicking off my boots, I ease onto the other side of the bed. Folding my arms behind my head, I close my eyes, and a wave of fatigue hits me.
When was the last time I slept? Last night? Two nights ago?
