Filthy English (15 page)

Whoa. Slow your roll there, Romeo.

You just re-committed to being friends. Make it last this time, arsehole.

I caught her glancing at me too, an easiness in her eyes that said she trusted me.

Trusted. Me.

I sighed. I had to keep my thoughts and my hands to myself.

Around midnight, we walked outside together and found a cab for the girls. Spider and I headed back to the flat, and Remi called me when she got to her hotel room. I made her walk through the entire place as I listened.

Was I overly paranoid about her attacker?

Maybe.

My fists clenched every time I pictured her under that arsehole. Her bruises may have been covered with make-up, but I fucking
knew
they were there, and it drove me crazy.

We talked on the phone for two hours. We both put the speaker on as we changed for bed, brushed our teeth and flossed. Later, we crawled in our beds and talked about everything. Movies. Books. Life.

I lay spread-eagle on top of my white duvet as she opened up and told me about her brother Malcolm, who was autistic. And then later, I told her about the letter my mum had written me.

“Is the dragonfly for your mom?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“What does it mean?”

I exhaled. I was diving into deep waters. “A dragonfly showed up the day of her funeral and followed our car when we left. I was leaving my home, my friends, everything. Declan and I—we felt like it was her that day, and that was before we’d even read her letter. She’d always had a fascination for them, tons of charms and notepads and necklaces. My brother has a smaller tattoo of a dragonfly on his neck. I never realized I wanted one until this summer.”

“A lot of things have changed this summer. Hartford and I are over. You and I are friends.” She sighed. “Who would have thought that?”

Yeah.

A bit later, I was in the middle of telling her a story from my childhood, when I heard her snore.

“Remi?”

Silence.

“
Hello?
Wake up, sleepyhead.”

All I got was heavy breathing.

I grinned. And I don’t even know why the sound of her sleeping made me happy, but it did.

“Goodnight, love,” I whispered and ended the call.

The next day, I FaceTimed Declan to talk more about the house. With me on the phone, he drove over to the place and walked through it room by room. It was an older craftsman-style home; the kitchen needed renovating, but the hardwood flooring was intact and only needed a good buffing. I took a big breath and decided to go for it. I called Father, who was thrilled, and he offered to help speed up the buying process with his lawyers. I accepted.

Because the house had been on the market for a while, we were able to get the seller to agree to a meeting in three days—which meant I’d need to leave London in two.

I got online, reserved my ticket, and wham, bam, I was jumping right into being a real adult.

“Your tattoo shop used to be an old medieval church?” Remi asked as we entered the vestibule of the Friar’s Church Tattoo Shop. She took in the stained-glass windows and arching buttresses. “The architecture is amazing.”

I was leaving London the day after tomorrow, and I wanted to spend my last full day with Spider, Remi, and Lulu. So after handling the house details with Declan, I’d called the girls and offered to take Remi to see a few sights, and then to get the tattoo she’d mentioned a few times during our phone conversation the night before.

I smiled at her enthusiasm. “It’s been completely rebuilt except for a few of the original stones on the foundation. Friar Laurence replicated every single detail that he could find about the original building, down to the lion and lamb stained-glass windows . . . and now it’s the best place in London to get ink. I wouldn’t go anywhere else. Besides, you have to see the sanctuary.” I motioned toward the heavy, wooden double doors.

Remi came to a halt, giving me a quizzical look. “You love this place?”

“Yeah, why?”

“What is it? The building itself or the fact that it’s a tattoo shop?”

I thought about it. “Both appeal to me.”

“What if you had your own Friar’s Church in Raleigh?”

“You think
I
could open one in Raleigh? Me?” I laughed.

She smiled. “Dude, you’re going to be a homeowner. Paid in full. You can do
anything
you want.” She paused, her hand on my arm. “You’re an amazing person, Dax. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

“Wait, did I hear you say ‘Friar’?” Lulu said, her face scrunched up.

I nodded. “The owner and employees dress like monks, so don’t get frisky with the help, Lulu.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t go for men in dresses.”

We walked into the sanctuary where all the action was. On one side stood several artists at their individual stations, wearing floor-length brown robes tied with a piece of rope. On the other was a large seating area, a library of books with art designs, and a small bar.

Remi’s eyes were wide, taking it all in, from the gold chandeliers and candelabras that lined the wall to the brown stone floor. “I feel like I’m in a play. Or lost in time.”

Dressed in his robe, the reception friar greeted us and led us over to a circular seating area with heavy wooden chairs and musty bookshelves. The shop also had a small bar in the back, and that’s where Spider headed. Remi and Lulu busied themselves getting comfy and browsing through the tattoo books.

Friar Laurence, a rotund balding man in his forties, came over a few minutes later and seemed glad that Spider and I had come back and brought new customers. After the introductions were made, we told him that Remi would be getting her first tattoo.

He nodded, a pleasant smile on his face. “Sure. We’ve got a few stations opening in the next hour or so.”

Remi nodded, a torn expression on her face.

“Hey. You scared?” I asked.

“No, I can handle the pain—I was thinking about what Hartford would think . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Who gives a shit what he thinks? He doesn’t deserve you,” I snapped.

Startled blue eyes studied my face. “That sounds like more than just a frat rivalry. You really don’t like him, do you?”

My lips tightened, but I reined my anger in. “He’s tolerable.”

Hated that fucker for what he did to Remi.

“Oh, for God’s sake, will you two just screw already? This back and forth is giving me a headache,” Lulu said as she walked over to join us from her seat, obviously having overheard our conversation.

She snorted. “God, just joking, guys. You can both close your mouths now.” A sigh came from her. “Anyway, my head is seriously pounding, so I’m going to head back to the hotel.”

“I’ll go with you. We can take the tube and leave you guys the car,” Spider chimed in, coming back to join us carrying a drink in his hand. He tipped it up. “You good with that?”

Me and Remi alone?

Keep it in your pants, Sex Lord.

Of course, we tried to talk them into staying, but it had been a long day of showing them the sights in London, and neither of them wanted a tattoo.

After they left, we grabbed the rest of Remi’s tequila from Spider’s Mercedes in the car park and headed back to the tattoo shop. Along the way, the rumbling of thunder reached our ears. I looked up at the darkening sky and grinned at Remi. “You ready for a surprise London shower?”

She nodded.

Rain fell softly at first, just a drop here and there, but in seconds it was pouring.

“Hop on,” I said, bending down so she could reach my shoulders.

Giggling as she clutched the tequila, she climbed on piggyback style. I hiked her up further, hooking her thighs up with my hands and holding on.

“I hope you know what you’re doing!” she called over the downpour.

I took off at a fast walking pace toward the church, dodging sudden puddles and a few cars as I weaved through traffic.

We reached the building and entered the vestibule, where I sat her down on the marble tile to dry out before we went inside the sanctuary.

“That was incredible, the best thing I’ve done in London,” she said, pushing wet hair off her face. “I thought you might drop me though. I’m no lightweight.”

My eyes roved over her, lingering on her full breasts, skating down to the curves of her hips. Perfection. My gaze ended on her wet lips.

Stop it, Dax.

“Wait a minute . . .” She did a complete circle in the small area. “It just dawned on me that the owner’s name is
Friar Laurence
.” She giggled. “Holy Shakespeare, it’s like
Romeo and Juliet
.”

“Not following,” I said, brushing water off my forearms.

“Don’t you see? Romeo and Juliet fell in love at a masquerade party and were married the next day in secret by a
Friar Laurence
—in an old church. Of course it was set in Verona, but still . . . weird, right?”

An idea struck and I ran with it. Grinning, I hooked my arm through hers. “Let’s get married here then. Right now. You get your wedding fix, and I get to tell Spider we got hitched and watch him piss his pants.”

“What?” Her face whitened.

“As a joke, Remi.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Yeah, of course. Sure.”

“Dammit. We need rings though,” I said, thinking, my eyes going around the vestibule entry. There was nothing here to use. I pulled out my wallet and fingered a fiver. “I can fold a couple of these and make them?”

Her lips twitched. “I have a couple of hair ties in my bag. Let’s use those.”

She pulled out a wad of colored rubber bands, and between us we selected our “rings.” I picked out the brown one and she picked a blue one, wrapping them around our respective index fingers to make them smaller.

I bent down on one knee and held up the “sapphire ring.”

“Remi, will you be my good lady wife?”

A slow blush started at her neck and covered her face. She bit her lip.

“Don’t you fancy me, love?” I clutched my heart, using all the dramatic acting skill I possessed, which wasn’t much. “Am I not enough for you?”

She barked out a laugh and then sobered. “Since the moment we met,” she said softly, her eyes darker than usual, an indigo-blue.

I rolled my eyes. “Good one.” She smiled. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she murmured.

I slid the band on her finger and stood. She stared down at it, her brows drawn in and lines around her eyes.

My shoulders slumped. “Remi? Shit, I’m sorry. We can stop if this isn’t fun—”

She swallowed. “No, no. Just give me a minute.”

“Are you thinking about Hartford?” I asked. “I’m being insensitive. Of course—”

“No, I’m not actually.” She looked from the ring to me, a thoughtful expression on her face. Our eyes locked, and she smiled tentatively, seeming to come to a decision. “Come on, my new fiancé, we just got engaged. Let’s go talk to the friar.”

I grabbed the tequila from the floor where I’d set it when we came inside, and we headed back inside the sanctuary.

MY HEART CLENCHED
when Dax got on one knee and for half a second, it had felt
real.

But it wasn’t.

Girls were a game to Dax, and I had to keep that front and center.