Exhaling, I say, “Thank god.”
“They did, however, make a small request,” she says.
“Which is?”
“They want an exclusive statement from you regarding Tatum Cartwright’s pregnancy announcement.”
“Of-fucking-course they do.”
“Honestly, it’s the lesser of two evils in my opinion,” Phoebe says. “I’ll work on putting a few options together and we can go over them in the morning. Anyway, you can breathe a little easier tonight.”
I stare up at Rossi’s dark house. “Yeah. Guess so.”
We end the call, and I recline back in my seat, glaring at Dan’s house in all its well-lit glory. The thing is practically a beacon in the night, a siren song calling me over to give the bastard a piece of my mind. And if he’s lucky, that’s all I’ll give him.
Cracking my knuckles, I glance at the steering wheel, then to the neighbor’s house and back.
I shouldn’t do this …
But he fucked with the wrong family.
Climbing out, I march next door, punch the doorbell six or seven times, and wait for the sorry asshat to meet his fate.
A second later, the door swings open—slow and careful. But before the plaid pajama-wearing coward has a chance to process my presence, I gift him with a sucker punch to the gut, and when he’s hobbled in half, I throw in a knee to the face because I’m nothing if not generous.
A stifled, animalistic grunt escapes his thin mouth as he falls to his stoop with a sickening thud, writhing as he curls into a ball. His knees are tucked against his chest, a protective stance. Not that it could possibly save him from anything else I might see fit to do to this ass hat.
While it would bring me great pleasure to take things a step further, I’m pretty sure I’ve made my point.
With that, I return to Rossi’s driveway and settle in for the long night in the driver’s seat of my rental. And when she wakes in the morning, I’ll be here.
Waiting.
I’ll wait for her forever if I have to.
And eventually she’ll realize, I’m hers forever too.
Chapter 35
Rossi
* * *
Shuffling past the foyer the next morning in a half-asleep stupor, I nearly drop my coffee mug when I spot the black Range Rover in my driveway.
It’s six AM …
Did he sleep there all night?
Moving closer to the window, I take a better look. Sure enough, my knight in shining armor is fast asleep behind the wheel, his seat reclined and his arms folded across his steel barrel chest.
Trekking to my room, I grab my robe and throw it on before stepping into house slippers. And I make a pitstop in the kitchen to pour him a coffee before heading out.
I knock on his window, three gentle taps, and wait for him to stir awake. Sitting up, he presses a button by the steering wheel before rolling down the driver’s side window.
“Good morning, sunshine.” I pass him the coffee mug. “No vacancy at the Ritz-Carlton?”
He takes a sip, his dark, dreamy eyes focused on me. “Something like that.”
“Why’d you stay, Fabian?” I cut to the chase.
“I have my reasons.” His eyes scan past my shoulders, landing on Dan’s house for a handful of seconds. “Wanted to make sure your creepy friend didn’t pull any more stunts, for starters.” Dragging his gaze back to me, he adds, “Was also hoping a good night’s rest would help you come to your senses.”
I roll my eyes. “Wishful thinking. And I slept like shit, for the record.”
“You should’ve called me. I would’ve come inside and we could’ve slept like shit together.”
I fight a smile, hiding my amusement. “Honestly, I feel bad. If I’d have known you were going to be this pig-headed, I’d have caved and given you the guest room.”
“Sweetheart, you haven’t seen pig-headed yet.” He sips his coffee, gifting me a glinting wink.
“Seriously though, what’s your plan?” I ask. “You just going to camp out in my driveway every night until your next tournament?”
“No,” he says. “Just until you admit you’re wrong about us.”
Waving my head, I head toward the front walk and motion for him to follow. I’m sure he needs a shower and a decent breakfast, and since he’s here, he might as well spend some time with his daughter.
“You can come in for a bit,” I say. “But you can’t stay long.”
Chapter 36
Fabian
* * *
I hit the shower, freshen up, and change into clean clothes before joining the girls in the kitchen. Taking a seat next to Lucia’s high chair, I hand her a chunk of mushy banana from her tray while stealing a glance at Rossi in her pink satin robe. With messy hair piled on her head, she hums some eighties melody while she keeps a watchful eye on the egg white omelets she’s making for the two of us.
She told me I couldn’t stay long.