Chapter Two
Kay
The bedroom door opened swiftly behind me, the golden light from the hallway oozing into the darkness of my room.
Every night, like clockwork for the last three weeks, my blue-eyed demon had come to me.
Haley was here, had been for three weeks. He told me I couldn’t see her but that she was safe. I didn’t know why he told me that. He didn’t have to, but something compelled him to, and that something was what I was fighting for. Bella told me that Haley was safe, and she checks on her every day.
He won’t tell me what happened. Every time I tried to bring her up, he shut it down.
I had to trust him.
I had to trust him.
Haley was alright. He wouldn’t hurt her.
The golden light disappeared as he shut the door, his footsteps slow behind me. A moment later, I heard the chair on the other side of the bed groan slightly under his weight.
I kept my gaze ahead, focusing on the high moon outside the window as I tried to focus on the sound of waves outside.
Some nights, he would talk, while some nights he would remain quiet.
Silently, I prayed this would be a night he wanted to talk.
We hadn’t spoken to each other in days. Some nights, he would leave my room at four in the morning and not come back until ten at night.
Bella said he had errands to run for Mr. Romano.
Whatever errands, he always managed to be back before midnight.
Why?
“You should be sleeping, Karina.”
I jumped at the sound of his voice—deep, rich, and somewhat strained.
“Right back at ya,” I said quietly. I heard movement, perhaps him shifting in the chair.
“I’ll sleep when I'm dead,” he murmured. I turned then, rolling over to face him.
“That’s a long way off,” I returned, adjusting my pillows to avoid looking at him. His chuckle caused that plan to fail. As my head fell back against the pillow, my eyes gravitated to him, the breath in my lungs damn near knocked out of me.
Why was the man I was supposed to hate so painfully beautiful?
He was leaning back in the cushioned chair, his right ankle resting atop his left knee, dressed in black pants, black dress shoes, and a black shirt.
It was nothing out of the normal compared to his daily wardrobe, but tonight, the top two of his shirt buttons were undone, revealing his tattooed skin.
Usually, it was just his neck I got to see.
Every inch of him had to be covered in ink, aside from his hauntingly beautiful face.
He was staring out the window, the moonlight shining down on the bed and him. His skin was pale, which made him look even more menacing, and his ice blue eyes could pierce anyone’s soul. His high cheekbones, straight nose, and perfect lips made him look like an angel.
But he wasn’t an angel.
He was a demon, loyal only to the devil himself, Ray Romano.
I was going to do everything in my power to change that.
“How was your day?” I asked softly, changing the subject because the thought of him dying didn’t sit right with me.
Those ice eyes slid to my face, and I expected a snarky comment or a look of disgust. I held my breath, mentally preparing myself for the blow, but instead—
“Long.”
Well, not snarky, but it also didn’t give me a lot to go on. I nodded and looked to the other side of the room, where the built-in bookshelves stood tall. We sat in silence for a few minutes, and then he broke the silence.
“Has everyone been treating you alright?”
I nodded, keeping my eyes away from him.
A few weeks ago, I made him think some of his men tried to harm me. He didn’t like that. It wasn’t exactly a lie; two brothers tried harassing me a few times. They were related to Romano, and at first I thought they were his sons. Both tried to corner me in the kitchen, and I told them to fuck off.
That was a few weeks ago…and I hadn’t seen them since.
“Words, Karina.”
I looked back to him, his head back as he slouched slightly, his hands resting on the armrests.
“Yes. Everyone has been normal. Bella has been especially nice to me.”
Those lips of his twitched, slightly. “I want you to tell me the moment someone disrespects you, understood?”
My stomach flipped at the thought of him punishing someone for disrespecting me. My eyes dropped to his tattooed hands. Those hands had killed people—hundreds probably.
Would he—has he killed for me?
“Then we go downstairs, you point them out to me, and I rip their eyes out for you. I cut off all ten fingers for you. I yank out their tongue for you. I cut out their heart for you.”
“Such a quiet angel tonight,” he murmured.
“Was there something you wanted to talk about?”
He smirked then, and if I had been standing, I was sure my knees would have gone weak. That was the power this man had over me. I was supposed to hate him, but the man sitting in the chair before me had my heart in his bloodied, tattooed hands for almost a decade.
“What did you do today?” he asked, his voice lower than before.
“Well, I didn’t try to escape today.”
He huffed a short breath through his nose, almost a chuckle, but not quite.
Come on, Col. Come back to me.
“I don’t know if that's a good thing or a bad thing,” I admitted, mainly to myself as I sat up on an elbow, my hair tickling my back as the comforter shifted down my opposite arm, exposing my skin, something he never looked at.
For the last nine years, Collin Stevens only looked in my eyes. He never once looked anywhere else.
“Don’t lose your fight, Angel.”
I looked up to him then, my lips forming a small smirk. “You saying you want me to fight you, Stevens?”
His eyes flashed with something, and that something was what I was fighting for. I held his eyes, pleading with him.
Please. Please give me something.
“Go to sleep, Karina,” he said before rising to his full height and running his palm over his shaven head. That head was once filled with luscious midnight locks, and I used to dream of running my fingers through them. He turned to walk away, and I panicked.
No. No. I was so close. I scrambled, yanking my body out from underneath the comforter and crawling to the edge of the bed. My hand shot out, my fingers wrapping around his gently. His head snapped to me.
“Wait, don’t leave,” I pleaded.
“Let go of me,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Stay, please.”
He yanked his hand away with a growl. I needed him in here; despite my goal, I slept better knowing he was in the room. My soul felt at ease near him, even though he'd dragged me through hell. I knew I was safe with him. He would protect me.
My heart knew it. My soul trusted it. So, I took the chance.
“I can’t sleep without you,” I murmured to his back, my voice cracking.
He stiffened, his shoulders tensing, and the hand I grabbed balled into a tight fist. He turned his head to the side, allowing me to see just a sliver of his icy eye.
“You’ll figure it out.” Then, he was gone, slamming the door with a bang that caused me to flinch.
Oh, hell no.
I charged after him, ready to fight.
Three, almost four, months with him, and that was the most progress I'd made.
Pushing my limits was something I used to do all the time.
I was risky, fun, somewhat dangerous. I was a woman who took charge and face things head on.
I used to not let things bother me. I would stay busy, distracting myself from the pain of my past. Then he walked into my restaurant, and he changed everything.
Suddenly, I wanted to be the fun risky girl I was pretending to be. I wanted to be all those things for him.
Then Collin, the man I am running after, stabbed my brother at the Gala five years ago.
Everything changed then. I wasn’t the fun, brave woman I pretended to be in front of everyone. I found a comfortable routine and stuck to it, because I feared that if I broke it, someone else I loved would get hurt.
Then I saw the man of my dreams, the man who betrayed us and tried to kill my brother, walk by the coffee shop window with a cigarette hanging from his lips…and I didn’t want to be the timid woman anymore.
I yanked the bedroom door open and flung myself into the hallway.
“Why won’t you just talk to me?” I yelled at his back. He whirled, spinning on his heels, his eyes slightly wider than normal.
“Go. To. Bed.” He began walking back to me.
“Come with me,” I challenged, and his steps faltered.
Normally, when a woman told a man to come to bed with her, that man would take a moment to appreciate the woman and her offer.
He would trail his eyes down her body slowly and smile.
The light-yellow silk pajama short set I was wearing would've helped with that.
Newsflash: that shit didn’t happen with Collin Stevens. Instead of holding my eyes like he would normally do, he looked away, disgusted.
My heart flinched at the rejection as I shook my head.
“I will not tell you again, Angel. Go to sleep,” he growled.
“Make me.”
He put his hands in his pockets and looked to the floor. “Is that what you want?”
His voice was scary now, and a chill ran down my spine. This wasn’t my Collin standing in front of me. This was the man in the abandoned building. The man who choked me until I blacked out. The man who left me for dead for weeks.
“Collin,” I whimpered.
“Go. To. Bed!” he roared, taking a step towards me and I did.
I practically jogged back into the damn room and slammed the door shut behind me.
I banged my head back against the wood as my legs slid out from underneath me, and I let out an unsteady breath.
I stared up at the moon, wondering what my friends were doing tonight, wondering if they finally gave up on me, or if they would eventually come to my rescue.
What if I couldn’t change him? What if I couldn’t find him again? What if I fail and I never saw my family again?
I shook my head. “No, Kay. You can do this. You know there's good in him. It’s just buried a little deeper than you anticipated,” I whispered to myself.
He still had good in him.
He still had good in him.
He still had good in him.
His soul still had light.
Two and a half months ago
I came into his study, freshly showered after days of being locked in that massive bedroom with an IV in my hand.
I was dressed in cotton pajamas, the pants dragging the floor a little due to my weight loss.
Collin had the room stocked with clothes in my size, books I enjoyed reading, decorated to my liking. My eyes fell to the cast on my wrist that I would have to wear for at least two weeks full-time.
Would I still be here in two weeks?
I looked to my blue-eyed demon standing at the window, hands in his pockets, his back to me.
He was dressed in black slacks and a white undershirt, the most casual I had seen him in five years.
My eyes trailed up his arms, noting how his tattoos didn’t stop until the top of his neck, under his chin.
This wasn’t the Collin I knew, but my heart wanted to know him.
The last few weeks had been a blur while I recovered, and I was getting close to his house servant, Bella. Now, I just needed to get close to him.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
“For?” he questioned, not even casting a glance in my direction.
“The vanilla body wash.”
He visibly tensed, his body going rigid, and I noted the way his jaw clenched. Vanilla was the only scent I wore, and he used to always comment on how good I smelled. It made me feel good. It made me feel seen by him when really, he was only supposed to get close to Gwen.
“Go to bed.”
Always pushing me away. “I just wanted to say thank you. It was sweet of you to do that.”
He laughed, startling me, but this laugh wasn’t my Collin’s laugh. This was dark and cruel, damn near sinister. It made my skin crawl. “I am anything but sweet, Karina.”
Bravery coursed through me as I dared to take a few steps farther into the room. “That’s a lie.”
He turned his head to me, his body not moving an inch. His icy eyes held mine. “I said go to bed.”
“I will once you agree.”
A wicked smile spread across his face. “You're in no place to be making demands, angel. You are a prisoner here. Has that not settled into your pretty, little blonde head yet?”
I knew I was. This wasn’t Stockholm Syndrome. This was me trying to find my Collin again, and I planned to do so. “Oh, I am aware of my place here,” I hissed. “You should just kill me and get it over with.”
At that, his body turned to me, and I couldn’t help as my eyes drifted downward, noting how the thin white material of his shirt clung to his abdominal muscles. When my eyes rose up to look at his face, he still wore that wicked smile.
“Careful. Don’t tempt me.”
I stepped forward, pointing at him. “You and I both know you don’t have the balls.”
Within that next moment, something flew past my head, dangerously close to my face. I twisted my neck to see a blade sticking out of the wall beside me. When I turned back to Collin, he gestured to it. “Still don’t think I have the balls, Karina?”
It was my turn to smile. “I’m not dead, am I?”
His smile dropped. “Go to bed.”
No. I pressed on. “You remembered that vanilla was my favorite,” I pushed.
He looked bored. “I do not control what the house help brings back from the mainland.”
“You told them to get that for me. Admit it,” I demanded, my voice getting louder.
“Raise your voice at me again and see what happens,” he warned, his voice a low growl.
“I will do what I damn well please! You won’t kill me, but you buy my favorite soap, you keep me fed, you provided protection for me, because deep down, in your fucking core—”
Then, he was there, in front of me, his tattooed hand gripping my jaw painfully. “You will be quiet and go to bed. I am not in the mood for your bullshit. I do not want to hear you or see you again until I can figure out what to do with you.”
Tears started to form as I looked up at him. “I just came to say thank you,” I whispered once he pushed me away. He turned away from me. Shutting me out. Rejecting me.
“Collin…please,” I begged, my voice shaking in desperation.
“Get away from me,” he whispered.
My throat felt tight. The sight of his back was something I should be used to by now, but still, my heart held out hope. My heart was stupid.
“I can’t,” I whispered.
My heart wouldn’t let me.
My soul would die if I did.