134: In Over Your Head

134: In Over Your Head
RUE

His chest was solid beneath my palm, his smirk infuriatingly smug even when I was one second away from gutting him.

"Apologize," I snapped, narrowing my eyes at him. "You don't just disappear on me like that. I wake up and you're gone? That's a dick move, Trouble."

His smirk faltered, and for a second, I saw a raw emotion slip through his eyes.

When he spoke, his deep voice was low.

"I didn't think..." He broke off, his jaw tightening. Then he leaned closer, his mouth brushing the shell of my ear.

"I didn't think I was worthy of sharing a bed with the Cross princess."

Oh.

I blinked up at him, caught off guard. Of all the excuses, that was not one I'd prepared for. Heat flushed my cheeks, and I hated that he'd managed to pull that out of me.

"You're lucky you're hot," I muttered, rolling my eyes as if that could erase the way my pulse had just sprinted.

That smirk of his curved deeper before his lips crashed onto mine. Hot enough to make me forget that I'd been furious seconds ago. My knees went weak, and I hated that too.

I pulled back first, smirking as I ran my tongue over my teeth. "I'll text you the details for our first date."

His brows furrowed. "Date?"

"Don't look so shocked. You think you get to ruin me for other men and then walk away? No, Trouble. You're stuck."

And with that, I spun on my heel, sliding my switchblade back into my pocket.

By the time I slid into my car, the scene from this morning replayed itself in my brain.

Earlier, I'd barely gotten home from the hotel when I was greeted by the most humiliating spectacle of my life.

Oliver. In front of our gate. With a goddamn megaphone.

"Rue Cross! Marry me!" He'd bellowed like some kind of desperate street performer.

My father had stormed out, his face pale from the migraine he'd been nursing all night, his veins popping like he was one second away from murder. Worse, he had already grabbed his gun.

I'd thrown myself between them, trying to appease Daddy's anger.

"Move," he'd growled, clutching his temple with one hand, the gun steady in the other. "One shot, Rue, and I won't hear his voice again. My head will thank me."

"Mr. Cross!" Oliver shouted through the megaphone, undeterred. "Once I'm your son-in-law—"

The words had barely left his mouth before Gio, my brother, stormed out too with our mom. "Jesus Christ, Rue. Control your admirer before Dad paints the gates red."

Lucia was right behind him with her phone out, recording and giggling like it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen. "This is gold. I'm putting this on a private story."

"Delete it, Lu!" I'd barked, shoving Oliver away from the gates before my father actually lost it. "The man's already embarrassing himself, don't add a laugh track."

By the time I'd wrestled Oliver and his megaphone off the property, Dad had gone back inside muttering about migraines, with Mom grabbing an ice pack and trying to help him cool off.

The memory still had me grinding my teeth as I drove through the city now, the streetlights flickering across the hood of my car.

My phone buzzed, flashing my baby sister's name.

I answered on speaker, sighing. "If you start with Oliver jokes, I'm hanging up."

Her laughter was instant. "Rue, I swear, Gio and I are still recovering from the secondhand embarrassment. A megaphone? Who even does that?"

"I told him no a hundred times. You'd think the concept of rejection would eventually stick."

"Apparently not." She snorted. "Gio says Dad's still in bed with his migraine. He hasn't cursed this much since you crashed his favorite car."

"That was six years ago!" I protested.

"Exactly. And he still brings it up."

I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway. "You and Gio are supposed to make my life easier, you know. Not stand there laughing while Dad threatens to commit homicide in his pajamas."

"Oh please," Lucia teased. "We're mafia heirs, Rue. We thrive on drama. Besides, watching Dad nearly shoot your wannabe fiancé was better than any reality show."

I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped. "You're insufferable."

"And you love me," she singsonged.

"Unfortunately," I muttered, but the smile tugging at my lips said otherwise.

....

The Cross estate loomed ahead, lit up like a fortress as always. I parked in the garage, shoved my keys in my pocket, and pushed through the heavy doors, already dreaming of one thing: my favorite juice.

I could practically taste the sweet, icy relief when I rounded the corner into the sitting room—and froze.

There she was. Mrs. Cross.

Former assassin, eternal heartbreaker, and the only woman alive who could tame Killian Cross.

My mother.

Her legs were crossed, her expensive silk robe draped over her body. Her hair was pulled back in that effortlessly sexy way only she could pull off. The TV flashed light across her flawless face as she sipped delicately from a crystal glass.

My crystal glass.

My juice!

I gasped. "Mum! That's mine!"

She glanced at me over the rim of the glass, lifting one perfectly arched brow. "You disappear all day, waltz in looking smug and suspicious, and the first thing you do is cry over juice?"

"It's not just juice. It's my juice." I shot back, stalking closer, but she raised a finger, and I froze.

No matter how reckless I could be. I could never get past her. Never.

She lifted the glass and sipped, deliberately slow, her brown eyes glittering as she looked at me over the rim. "If it keeps you this dramatic, maybe I should drink it more often."

My jaw dropped. "You're evil."

"And yet I gave you life," she sassed, setting the glass down. "So. Are you using condoms?"

I nearly died on the spot. "Mum!"

She blinked. "What? Better I ask than your father find out by seeing you pregnant across the breakfast table."

My cheeks burned so hot I was sure I'd combust. "I'm not—it's not like that—I—ugh!" Desperate, I blurted, "Speaking of Dad, how is he? Still sulking about his migraine?"

She frowned, just slightly, tilting her head at me because she could see right through my deflection. "He's better. Took his medication. He's sleeping now."

I exhaled in relief, seizing the chance. "Good. Then you don't need me here. I'll just, you know, head upstairs—"

"Sit, Rue."

The command in her voice stopped me cold.

I groaned but dropped into the chair across from her. "Seriously? Can't we talk about Dad instead?"

Her smirk widened. "We already did. Now, back to the interesting part. Tell me... which man has my daughter sneaking home so suspiciously?"

I sank into the chair with the grace of someone heading to their own execution. Mum leaned back like a queen on her throne, her eyes sparkling with wicked amusement.

"So?" she asked again. "Who's the man?"

I fiddled with a loose thread on my jeans. "There's no man."

I squirmed under Mum's stare, feeling uneasy.

She smirked. "You know... you suck at lying."

"Mum," I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

"Rue." She leaned forward, striking a predator pose. "Is he handsome at least? Or should I prepare to shoot you for having bad taste?"

Before I could conjure a sassy comeback, the news anchor's voice cut through the room. Both of us turned toward the flat-screen TV.

"...Adrian Romano, heir to the Romano empire, has just been spotted with Leona Davenport, daughter of tycoon Samuel Davenport. Sources confirm the two are officially engaged..."

My blood ran cold in my veins. The photo flashed onscreen. An image of my muse, in a black tailored suit, standing beside some glossy brunette with a perfect smile.

The sight hit me like a bullet. My stomach lurched, heat crawled up my throat, and for a second I thought I might vomit.

Trouble was taken?

He was a fucking cheat?!

My throat went dry, revulsion rolling through me.

Mum's head snapped towards me so fast I thought she'd break her neck. She narrowed her eyes at me, her suspicion flaring. "Rue."

I couldn't move.

She pointed a sharp, perfectly manicured nail at the screen. "Is he the one?"

My heart thundered madly in my chest.

"Rue Cross," Mum pressed, her voice low and lethal. "Don't you dare lie to me. Is that man your lover?"

I swallowed hard, the words tangled in my mouth.

Her gaze went back to the screen, her expression sharpening with an emotion somewhere between fury and disbelief. "Adrian Romano. Of all people."

"Mum..." I whispered.

Her laugh was humorless and cold. "You don't realize his family has been at war with us for decades now, do you? His father tried to bleed us dry. His uncles put bullets in your grandfather's men. The Romano name is poison, Rue. And you—" she gestured at me wildly, "—you've been sleeping with him?"

I flinched.

Mum stared at me, her chest rising and falling. For the first time in years, she looked genuinely shaken. "God help me, Rue. You're in over your head."

My hands trembled as I clenched my fists. As much as I was aware of the barriers between us, why...why was a spark of rebellion roaring in my heart? Why did I hope there was some sort of explanation he could give me for not telling me about the other woman?

My phone buzzed, and I brought it to my line of vision as a new message lit the screen. It was from him. Trouble.

'Hey, Ruin. Tell me you're thinking about me too.'

Oh hell.