“You promised,” I whisper. “You promised you’d never let me go.”
* * *
A harsh, ragged sob jolts me from sleep.
I suck in a gasping breath, and as I do, I realize the sound came from me. Another sob follows it, wracking my lungs as it tears out of me.
“Breathe, baby. Breathe, Rose.”
Strong arms wrap around me from behind, a body curving around mine as I curl into a ball. Theo keeps whispering soft words into my hair as I cry, rubbing his hand gently up and down the remainder of my right arm. He doesn’t try to stop me from crying, just holds me until the heartbreaking terror of the dream subsides a little.
My throat is tight and scratchy, and my head hurts again—although nowhere near as bad as it did earlier.
It’s hard to catch a full breath. Every time I inhale, the exhale turns into another gasping sob, but finally I’m able to let out a shaky sigh.
We lie like that for a while, Theo’s body still tucked around mine, the warmth of him seeping into my cold bones.
It’s barely light outside. A few soft rays creep in through the cracks in the curtains, and I’m pretty sure it’s morning sunlight. That means I’ve slept for over twelve hours. Did Theo stay with me the whole time?
I burrow deeper into his embrace, shifting backward until my back is pressed against his front. Everywhere we’re connected feels like a place where pain can’t get inside, and I want more of that. I want him to envelop me completely, somehow.
“Bad dream?” he murmurs softly, tightening his grip a little.
I nod. Flashes of the dream parade through my mind, making my stomach sour. There were others throughout the night, I’m almost sure of it. I wonder if I cried during those too, and if Theo got any fucking sleep at all, curled up next me.
“I tell myself he might still be alive,” I murmur thickly. “I keep telling myself that. But I’m…”
“You’re grieving anyway.”
New tears sting my eyes as I nod again. Something in Theo’s voice tugs at me, and I turn around in his arms, rolling over onto my other side so we’re face to face. His arms stay wrapped around my waist in a loose hold, and we’re so close that my eyes have to bounce between his.
I wasn’t wrong about the roughness I heard in his voice. Tears glisten in his blue-green eyes, turning his irises a deeper, more vivid color. He makes no effort to brush them away or hide them, but his throat works as he swallows.
“My dad died five years ago,” he says quietly.
I bite my bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, dislodging a tear that was hovering at the corner of his eye. It slides down his temple, soaking into the pillow.
“It’s fine. We were never all that close. When he died, I felt sad, but in a way that made sense. In a way I could handle. Honestly, I was worried for my mom more than anything. My dad founded a massive tech company that made him billions, and ever since his death, my fucking uncle has been trying to take over the company.”
“Can he do that?” I frown. “Just take it over?”
Theo scoffs. “No. But my dad left the company to him and my mom, and my uncle keeps trying to push her out. I never really wanted anything to do with running the company, but if I step away entirely, he’ll steamroll my mom.” He shifts his arms around me, resting one hand on my hip. “I keep trying to get out, to build a life of my own, but I always end up getting dragged back into it.” His jaw clenches. “My uncle was the one who convinced my mom to sign me up for this fucking game.”
My eyes widen. When the guys explained the arrangement Luca D’Addario has set up to choose his successor—the person who will basically run Halston when Luca steps down—I could barely wrap my head around the fact that their own parents had signed them up for this shit. I still can’t, really.
I grew up in foster homes that ranged from hellish to merely shitty, so it’s not like I have an actual reference for what a healthy family dynamic should be.
But even I know that signing your kids up for what’s essentially a battle to the death is super fucked up.
Theo catches the expression on my face and rolls his eyes. “Yeah. My uncle’s a fucking asshole.” Then his expression grows serious again, pain reflecting in his eyes. “When my dad died, I just focused on getting my mom through it. I felt sad, but it was manageable. Now…”
He trails off, blowing out a breath.
“What?” I whisper, leaning a little closer as if I could lend support that way.
Theo makes a noise in the back of his throat. “There’s no body. We don’t know for sure that Marcus is dead. But I feel fucking wrecked anyway. I feel…”