Page 37 of Arran's Obsession
It was an hour before Arran returned, his previous calm restored. “Get dressed. I’ll take you to meet my family.”
I curled my knees underneath me. “Suddenly you trust me?”
“Not for a second, but something happened that forced my hand.” He crossed to a chair and collected a pile of clothes from the seat.
I blinked at it. “That was there all along? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Perhaps I prefer you sitting around naked.”
He left me to get dressed, and I pulled on the shorts that must’ve come from one of the women who lived here and a t-shirt that was a little too big and needed tying into a knot atmy waist. I took a minute in the bathroom to comb out my hair and brush my teeth using supplies from a visitor’s pack. There was no kindof hair product or tie, which was a pity because my shower yesterday had left my hair an unfortunate frizzy mess.
Not the best first impression, then again I’d showed up last night in just a man’s t-shirt and spattered with blood.
It spoke volumes that his friends hadn’t been fazed.
Outside the bedroom, Arran waited in the living room. The house was clearly centuries old, but the furniture more modern, like someone had redecorated recently and gone with what they preferred over the style of the house. I liked it. I also liked the image of the powerful man on a cream couch, taking up all the space.
His gaze settled on me. Desire curled in my belly once again. My need for him was getting stronger, no matter my intention to deny it.
Out in the wide hallway, with a marble floor and oil paintings here and there, we walked together. Last night, I’d barely noticed the detail. Now, I soaked it all in.
“What do you mean that something forced your hand?” I asked.
“You’ll see.”
Infuriating man. “How do you know the people who live here?” I tried. “Last night you called them your friends. Then earlier you said family.”
“Found family, not blood. I don’t have any family by DNA left.”
“What happened to your parents?”
He shot me a look. “What happened to your mother?”
I shut my mouth. Point taken—we weren’t friends. I didn’t need to know his emotional baggage, and there was no reason to trust him with mine. Even if his check on me was tantamount to snooping.
Changing the subject, I moved on to the next question on my list. “One thing I don’t get about last night and the game. How did you know I was in there?”
We took a corner, the echoing entranceway ahead. Thankfully empty. For some reason, nerves flew as butterflies in my belly.
“The real Natasha showed up, and the doorman called me. I was offsite, but I checked the cameras and saw you.”
I pieced over that. He hadn’t been watching, then. “Why did you come for me? Why not just leave me to the fight?”
“I was already planning to find you. There was something I needed you for.”
“Beyond warming your bed?”
He gave a short laugh. “Is that what you’re doing?”
If he’d wanted me for something, it had to be regarding Cherry, then. I joined the dots, some strange disappointment forming that it wasn’t because he’d liked me and knew I shouldn’t have been in there.
But the version of Arran I’d crushed on for a whole minute had nothing in common with the reality of him.
The doors to the entranceway ahead opened with a crash, and a petite woman appeared. She swung her gaze around and sighted us. “Holy shite, Arran. Summer said ye were back.”
She sprinted and leapt for him, enclosing him in a full-body hug, her hair a wealth of wild black curls, and her features exquisite with her perfect little upturned nose and pouty red lips. I’d never seen anyone so beautiful. Young, too. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen.
Arran absorbed the hit with a smile. He banded his arms around her. “Hey, Cass.”