Roman quickly swerves the Range Rover over to the shoulder of the road. I can hear bits of gravel popping as we roll over them.
"What happened?" He asks with an eerie but deadly like calm.
"Why are you stopping?" I ask nervously.
"Talk." He hooks my chin with his pointer finger. "And I mean everything Duchess."
Every time he calls me that I can't breathe.
I lean my body into the passenger side door as I speak, wishing I could burrow myself even further. The fresh air from the window I cracked is whipping stray hairs around my face and they're sticking to my lips. I'd do just about anything right now to change the subject, but I know it's not going to happen. I can see that about him already. The steely determination across his face. He's waiting patiently for my story, and he's made it clear that he doesn't like to ask for things twice.
"My boyfriend was over ... Ethan. We were fooling around in my bedroom when we heard a loud crash in the front of my apartment."
I turn to look at Roman's face. He motions for me to continue.
"There were men in the house."
"How many?"
"Three."
"How do you know there were three for sure?"
"Because two had guns drawn on Ethan and one knocked me out. My head made the hole in the wall."
Roman grips the steering wheel tightly while drawing deep breaths, and I stop talking.
There's an awkward silence between us now.
We're still sitting on the shoulder of the road and Roman hasn't looked my way or spoken to me in over six minutes. I know it's been exactly six, because I've been paying close attention to the time on my phone. I don't know him that well, but his body language suggests that keeping quiet and giving him time to process what I said then let him calm down is the right approach.
"Is that why you're at my father's house?" He asks finally breaking the silence.
"Yes. I couldn't stay in that apartment anymore. I just–"
"And where is ... Ethan?" He asks with disdain on his lips, although I don't know why. I haven't even told him about the drugs yet.
"His parents told me that he is in rehab in Arizona."
"So this was drug related?"
"I think so, but I didn't know he did drugs." I say in my defense. "Ethan is a swimmer and an athlete. He always told me that he'd never do drugs."
"Do you love him?"
"What?! No." That was a weird question.
"Is he still your boyfriend?"
You would think that I'd have an emphatic answer of a "hell no" to that question, but it isn't that simple. I haven't spoken to Ethan since the incident. He hasn't called, texted, or even written me a frackin' letter. Even most of his friends are avoiding me. It's almost as if they blame me for what happened, when it's totally obvious that Ethan got knee deep into something that he brought to my doorstep. Not the other way around.
"Umm–"
Roman raises an eyebrow at that response but moves on.
"And so what did the men want from him? Money or drugs?"
"Drugs I think. They said Ethan had something that belonged to them."
"Do you remember exactly what they said Duchess?"
"The two with the guns didn't say anything. The one who knocked me out did all the talking. He said that Ethan was lying, that he was high on his shit right now."
"Did you say anything to them?"
"Not one word. He hit me when Ethan said he didn't know what they were talking about."
"And then you woke up and everyone was gone?"
"Yes." This sounds even worse when I talk about it.
"Ethan went to Penn with you?"
"Yes."
"Is he from here?"
"No, he's from Maryland, but why? What are you going to do Roman?" I start panicking a little. "I just want to put this whole thing behind me. Joseph should have never asked you to do this. It's my business and–"
"There's no way in hell Joseph knows about this. Trust me. He thinks all I'm doing is taking you to pick up the rest of your things. He knows something happened to you for you to leave your apartment so abruptly, but nothing like this. If you're worried that your parents told him what happened, they didn't, and they didn't tell Juliette. That's if your parents even know."
"They sort of know."
"Sort of?"
"They don't know about Ethan or the drugs. They just know I was attacked in my home. I guess they decided not to tell Joseph."
"Are you protecting that asshole?" He asks coldly.
"No. That's not it at all. I just wish you would let me handle it Roman."
"You're family now, so your business is my business. Remember that. And what the fuck are you so worried about anyway? I told you, handling shit is what I do for a living, and I do it well."