Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“What are you doing here?” Jude asks.
“Well, when you mentioned you were having dinner with your girlfriend, I thought it would be a mighty shame to miss the opportunity to meet her.” He gives me a big, dashing smile.
“You’re supposed to be going back to Dublin tonight.”
“One more night in the Big Smoke won’t hurt.”
“Won’t it?” Jude asks. “Rhys, you could get yourself into trouble if you were locked in a cupboard alone.”
Rhys chuckles as I smile fondly at Jude in protective-big-brother mode.
“Last night I fired your publicist,” Jude goes on. “Today we hired a new one, and you booked a flight back to Dublin while Casey booked a train to Paris.”
“One more night, chill it.” Rhys muscles him out the way and homes in on me, taking the tops of my arms, scrutinising me. “Well, you’re a surprise.”
“Rhys,” Jude warns.
“What?”
“Put her down.” Jude claims me and pulls me close, putting some keys in my hand. “Go wait for me in the car, it’s just around the corner.” He scowls at Rhys. “I’ve just got to sort out my wayward littlest little brother.”
“I don’t need sorting out. Stop being such a nag. You’ve not even introduced us properly.”
Jude laughs, but it has no humour in it. More nerves. “Amelia, meet Rhys. Rhys, this is Amelia.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, head tilted. “Like?”
“You’re brilliant, gorgeous, witty, strong, resilient, smart.”
My lips twist, trying not to smile, and Jude rolls his eyes, turning to his brother. “Where are you going now?”
“Meeting someone.”
“Who?”
“You don’t know them.”
“That doesn’t ease me, Rhys,” Jude retorts, getting irritated. “Who is it?”
“A woman, alright? You don’t see me interfering in your relationships.”
“Ship,” Jude says. “Relationship.”
“Will you chill the fuck out?” A surprising flash of anger passes across Rhys’s face. “You’ve been like a bear with a sore head since—”
“Shut up, Rhys,” Jude warns, moving in closer.
“Since Mum died. There you go—I said it. Finally. Are you going to punch me now?” Holding his hands out, Rhys invites the hit, and I nervously glance between the brothers, wondering if Jude will accept his offer. He certainly looks like he wants to, his jaw rolling.
Since their mum died? Not their dad? I’m confused. Jude talks with such fondness about his mother, but when it comes to his father, I see the anger he tries and fails to keep buried. But he’s only been angry since his mum died?
“Rhys.” Jude visibly takes in air, working his temper down. “There’s a supposed sex tape out there just waiting to surface and cause a PR shitstorm for you.”
I blink, surprised at Jude’s one-eighty on the topic of conversation, but Rhys is obviously wary, backing off. “You said you didn’t think it existed.”
“Is there a sex tape?”
Rhys rolls his eyes. “Yeah, there’s a sex tape.”
“Haven’t you risked your career enough?”
“Jesus, alright, Dad.”
Something switches in Jude, every drop of green falling from his eyes, his temper rising again. I step back, cautious.
But not Rhys. So much for backing off. “Look at you,” he says. “One mention of him and you become the Hulk. For fuck’s sake, Jude. He’s dead. No one can bring him back. Just like they can’t bring Mum back. Get on with your life.”
“What the fuck do you think I’m trying to do?”
Rhys smiles at me. I don’t know where he finds it, because I’m struggling myself. Then he comes to me and gives me a hug. “Look after him, okay? He’s not as tough as he lets on.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Jude breathes, raking a stressed hand through his hair.
“Shut up and give me a hug.” Rhys drops me and slams Jude into his chest. “I’ll be a good boy,” he says, planting a smacker of a kiss on Jude’s cheek before breaking away and leaving us, weaving through the built-up traffic as he crosses the road.
I let Jude take the keys and put me back in his side, walking us on. “You’re protective of them,” I say.
“Maybe,” he murmurs.
I hum, resting my head on his chest, listening to his heart. “Mr. Big Tough Guy.”
He laughs, poking me in my ribs in warning. “I’ll show you big when we get home. All eight inches of it.”
I laugh, but it’s light. Uneasy. I’ve seen anger on Jude about his father. Not so much his mother. And yet Rhys likened Jude to the Hulk over his father—I get that—and a bear with a sore head since his mother passed. Does this mean he’s only expressed anger over his father since his mother died? More questions mount. The rage inside Jude is very real. Very destructive.
Very worrying.
Chapter 14
I got precisely no sleep last night, but I did get the full, delicious eight inches numerous times, with pillow talk interludes between each session. Every time we took a break from each other, the questions about his anger over his father hung on my tongue, as well as Rhys’s statement. Since Mum died. But I thought better than to ask, and it was as if Jude sensed my curiosity, because the instant one of those small silences fell, he’d roll on top of me and we’d go again. He finally drifted off at gone five with me curled in his side, and by six I still hadn’t found sleep. So I got up, showered, and arranged for Humphrey to take me back to London.