Sugar Coated (A Bitter Pill #2)

Chapter Nine – Laina

Days passed. As much as the memory of what I did to the man in that warehouse filled me with a certain type of dark satisfaction, I also knew I had to confess to Kieran. I had to tell him what the man said, how the bullet was always meant for him and not me—and in doing so I’d have to tell him about the party, too, and everything that took place that night.

The party was coming up. Oh, sorry, the charity dinner. My dad was throwing it at some place downtown. The dress code was suit and tie for the men and dresses for the women. I’d invited Fang to the party after my little torture session, and he’d hastily agreed to come.

Lola and Sylvester would be there, too. They both had money to throw around, so even though they weren’t exactly the kind of people a man like my dad should want at one of these events, he wouldn’t turn them away, either.

Lola had told me, before I walked away that day, covered in blood, that anytime I wanted to get my hands dirty, to let her know and she’d set something up. She’d been delighted with how much I got into it.

Let’s not talk about how badly the blood had stained my hair and clothes, though. It had been quite the job to get me looking fresh again—had to go to Fang’s place, just to make sure my dad and Tessa didn’t see me coming home covered in blood. I even had to visit the salon the next day.

But, anyway, back to Kieran. Since he was staying in the house, I figured there was no rush. It let me imagine certain conversations with him while I planned out what I would say. It wasn’t every day you told someone you cared about that someone wanted them dead. The opposite of an easy conversation.

Maybe even slightly awkward, some might say, especially since that same person was waiting for me to tell him that he was more than a step-uncle to me, too.

I just… things were changing so fast. My whole life had been thrown out of whack.

In the end, I gave myself a deadline. I needed to tell Kieran the truth about everything—the shooting and my feelings for him—before the party. Before he stepped foot in the public eye again.

Who knew? Someone might try to kill him again at this party. We all needed to keep a lookout, just in case. Just because my dad hired an actual chef, a catering crew, and guards didn’t mean anything. Nowhere was completely safe. When someone was after you, you couldn’t be too careful.

Mike was coming to the party, too. He had to go out and get himself a suit because he didn’t have anything that was nice enough for the dinner. I planned on wearing a simple black dress—with my trusty blond wig and no colored contacts. I’d be a normal girl who’d been through some shit. Tessa informed me the day prior to the party that I was not allowed to wear the metal prosthetic on my left hand.

I didn’t see why it mattered, but my mind was somewhere else, so just to save the argument, I agreed to play nice.

Maybe if I was a more normal person with a more typical upbringing—you know, with a family who modeled good communication styles—I wouldn’t have such an issue talking with Kieran and telling him the truth. But I was me, and if there was one thing I’d learned lately, it’s that I was a little messed up. Not every decision I made was good or smart.

You know, it really was unfair that I was held to such a high standard. Other people my age were allowed to mess up and make stupid decisions, but when I did it, it was life or death. Or kidnapping. How annoying.

Turned out, I was pretty damn good at procrastinating. The deadline I’d given myself to talk with Kieran loomed—as in, I was dressed and ready to go in my blond wig—came around. I sat on the edge of my bed, the heels I was going to wear on the ground in front of me, feeling like I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders.

A knock on my open door alerted me to someone else’s presence, and I stupidly thought it might be Kieran, coming to talk to me before we leave—but it wasn’t him. It was Mike, and even though it wasn’t who I hoped it would be, I still sat a little straighter when I saw who was standing there.

Mike wore an all-black suit, tie and all. His brown hair was slicked back, his rugged features freshly-shaven. He looked like a mob boss, not the man I’d come to know—and yet, even so, he looked good. The clothes made him intimidating in a different sort of way, and I didn’t doubt he had a gun tucked somewhere beneath that black suit jacket.

“Hey,” he said, “you ready to go? Everyone else is downstairs.”

If I was the queen of procrastinating, he was the king. I wasn’t the only one dancing around the subject of my feelings; Mike was doing a pretty damn good job of it, too. After the whole torture day, Mike hadn’t said a word to me, and I’d been too busy overthinking the whole Kieran thing to let it bother me too much.

I didn’t get up, but I did give him a soft smile. “You look good.”

“You look… good, too.” The way his hazel eyes bore into me from where he stood, I could tell he was holding himself back. The man was truly a master at it. When I made no moves to get up, he added, “Come on, everyone’s waiting.”

“Can you tell them to wait for me in the car? I’ll be right down.” I slowly got to my feet, slipping them into the shiny black heels. “Could you, uh, tell Kieran to hang back? I need to talk to him before we go.”

Mike nodded, and then I heard his heavy footsteps as he left my room.

I started to pace the length of my bedroom, fiddling with my hands. After a moment, I inhaled deeply and forced myself to walk out of my room and follow in Mike’s steps as I walked down the hall, my heels clicking with every step.

Kieran was waiting for me at the base of the staircase, his hands shoved into his suit’s pockets. His head turned when he heard me walk down the stairs, and an easy, dimpled grin formed as we met eyes. His gaze dropped to my heels, sluggishly lifting as he visibly checked me out.

“Wow, it’s been so long, I almost forgot what you looked like with blond hair,” he said. “I know you like the pink and blue, but I like this, too. You look beautiful.”

Mike wasn’t the only one who could clean up and look drop-dead gorgeous in a suit. Kieran always kept his jaw free of stubble, but there was something about his dark gray suit that made my thoughts go hazy. The sleek look was accented by a maroon tie, and his brown hair was short enough that not a hair was out of place.

“You clean up well yourself,” I joked, even though it wasn’t really a joke.

“Are you saying I’m normally dirty?” He grinned harder. “I think I take offense.”

My stare fell to his mouth, though it was only for a quick second. “Maybe you should let your face know that. You don’t look like you take offense.” We stood about a foot and a half away from one another; the closest we’d been in a while.

“Well, it’s you, so I can’t be too mad.” His dark eyes scrutinized me. “Mike said you wanted to talk to me before we leave. What is it? I hope it’s something no one else should overhear. Something inappropriate and not becoming of a step-niece and step-uncle, perhaps?”

The words just didn’t want to come out. For whatever reason, talking to Kieran about this was the hardest thing I’d had to do in a while. “It’s, um, about the shooting.”

His good mood faltered, and his grin faded just like that. “What about it? It’s not something I like reliving, so if I don’t have to think about it, I try not to.” That made sense. I couldn’t blame him for feeling like that, and it brought to mind the talk we had before, when he told me he would’ve rather died than see me get hurt.

My next words tumbled out in a rush: “The shooter wasn’t aiming at me. He was aiming at you.”

To his credit, Kieran didn’t appear shocked. The only thing he did was blink at me as what I’d said sank in. “Me, huh? And how—how do you know he was aiming at me and not at you?” He tripped over his words, a very unusual thing on his part, which clued me in to the fact that he had no idea.

“It’s a long story. I can tell you later. There’s not really time now, but… I just wanted you to know that someone is after you, too. Not just me.”

“Laina—”

I stopped him by taking a teeny, tiny step toward him. Less than eight or so inches between us, now. He was so close to me I could smell his musky scent, and it made me want to lean in to him and breathe him in. “I mean it. I lost my mind when you got hurt. It was bad enough when I thought it was all for me, but now that I know he was aiming at you… I can’t lose you, Kieran.”

He lifted a hand, and before I knew what he was doing, he was running his fingertips down along my jaw, a tender touch that made my heart skip a beat. “You won’t,” he whispered. “Nothing in this world could ever take me from you.”

Unless I was seeing things, I was pretty sure he glanced at my lips when he said that, and I was struck right then by how badly I wanted to kiss him again. It’d been… God, I couldn’t even remember how long. Too long. So long it might as well have been an eternity.

When did things get so confusing between us? When did things change?

Kieran dropped his hand, but he didn’t step away. “Is that it? There’s nothing else you want to say?”

There was a lot I could’ve said, a lot I wanted to tell him, but I had the feeling he wasn’t asking about how I knew the shooter was after him. He wanted me to tell him he was more than a step-uncle to me. He wanted me to confess my feelings for him.

But now wasn’t a good time. Kieran and Mike weren’t the only ones who could push their feelings off; I could, too. Right now we had a party to get to.

Excuse me, a charity dinner.

“That’s all for now,” I told him, and I hated the instant look of disappointment he sent me.

“Okay, well, I guess we should head on out before my sister starts to think you kidnapped me or something.” A joking comment, meant to break the ice, so I gave him a smile and let him lead me out of the house and to the idling car waiting near the front door. Mike was following us in his own vehicle.

Kieran held open the back door of the car for me, letting me slide in first. He ducked his head and got in beside me, saying, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Everything okay?” my dad asked, his eyes on me in the rearview mirror.

All I did was smile and say, “Yep.” And that was that. My dad didn’t ask any more questions.

As we drove away from the house, my mind swirled. Kieran’s choice of words was ironic. He had no idea there was a second kidnapping attempt, and it was from that failed attempt that I found out someone was after him, the same woman who was after me.

The charity dinner was being held in some building called the Klinton—it had a wide ballroom where the tables were already set up, along with a donation station. Dinner wasn’t until seven, which seemed ridiculously late since the party began at five-thirty, but there were drinks and small finger foods aplenty on silver trays constantly being brought out to a different room that was all dark wood and moody atmosphere. That’s where everyone gathered; it’s where my dad and Tessa waited and greeted everyone as they showed up. Guards stationed on the outside of the building only let in those who were on the list.

It was all very pompous and wasteful, if you asked me. If you really gave a shit about charity, why not just make the donation and move on with your life? Why bother throwing a party at all?

I knew why my dad and Tessa were so adamant about the party, though. They wanted to show the city that our family was still standing—pictures were being taken all the time, my dad and Tessa posing with any high-profile person that came. Kieran and I had to fake smiles for some photographs, too.

I was only able to sneak away from the constant smiles and cameras when I saw Fang waltz in. He didn’t wear a suit, but he did wear a silky black button-down neatly tucked into dark pants. I grinned when I saw him, and I zigzagged through the room, avoiding the gathered groups of people I didn’t know while also dodging the waiters that buzzed to and fro—all under the watchful eyes of Mike, of course. The man stood near the door to the room, overseeing everyone who walked in.

“You made it,” I said, fighting my urge to throw my arms around his neck and bring him down for a kiss. As it was, everyone nearby kept throwing glances in his direction; it was obvious he wasn’t a well-to-do person in this city.

Fang flashed his silver canines at me. “Of course I did. You invited me, and so I’m here. I told you I wanted to get out more.” His eyes seemed to shimmer as he looked me up and down. “You look—”

“Not like cotton candy, I know.”

He smirked. “No, but still just as delicious as always.” He was going to say more, but right then someone else approached us from behind me; his expression changed from sly and mischievous to warm and serious, and when I turned around I realized why.

It was my dad. He abandoned Tessa and Kieran, leaving them to talk to a pair of older people themselves, to come over here and check out my invite. “You must be Fang,” he said, offering him a hand. “I’m Vance Hawkins—the mayor, and Laina’s father.”

Fang took his hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

My dad let the handshake go on a few seconds too long, and just like that, I could tell he was a bit unnerved by Fang. Or, rather, the sight of his sharp, silver canine teeth, which he finally caught a glimpse of. “I know you made that contraption for my daughter’s hand. Beautiful work. How exactly do you two know each other?”

“I’ve done some work for the Lucianos, helped ‘em out when they needed it. Lola sent Laina my way. You know her, don’t you?”

It took a moment, but my dad nodded. “I wouldn’t have gotten the job without her and Sylvester’s public support.” He paused. “So this is purely business, right?” He glanced at me, probably hoping I’d tell him what he wanted to hear.

I mean, come on. Why would I invite someone I did business with to this stupid dinner?

“Dad,” I started.

“What? It’s a genuine question. You’re my daughter. I’m allowed to ask.”

Both Fang and my dad were looking at me, waiting for me to say something. Fang would undoubtedly be okay with whatever story I would tell, but… you know what? I wasn’t going to lie and tell my dad Fang was just business. Fang had never been just business.

“No,” I finally spoke, “it’s not just business.”

My dad’s mouth dropped open; he might’ve suspected, but hearing me confirm it was a different story. A waiter happened to walk by with a tray of champagne, and he plucked one off. To Fang, he asked before taking a sip, “How old are you?”

“Thirty-four” was Fang’s answer, and my dad nearly choked on that champagne.

“Thirty-four?” His voice went up an octave or two when he repeated Fang’s age. “Oh, dear. I, um, do you mind if I have a moment alone with my daughter?” He didn’t wait for him to reply; he simply took me by the wrist and led me away… literally to the other side of the room, as far away from Fang as we could be without actually leaving.

My dad was slow in letting me go, and when he did he ran that hand through his hair. “Laina, I know you might feel like you need to act out after what happened to you, but—”

I interrupted what would surely become a lecture, “I’m not acting out. Not with Fang. I like him, and he likes me.”

“He’s practically twice your age.”

“Not really. Four years less.”

My dad went on, as if he hadn’t heard me, “And those teeth. What on earth is with those teeth? They can’t be real.”

“They are.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m trying to understand. I want to be reasonable, but… Fang isn’t the sort of man I want to see you with, not to mention his age. I just want you to find someone more appropriate.”

“I’m nineteen. You can’t tell me who I can and cannot date, Dad.”

The sigh he exhaled was chest-deep. “You’re right, but… I’m your father. I want what’s best for you, and I just don’t know if what’s best for you is someone like that. Are you even sure you should be dating so soon?” He lowered his voice as he said, “Honey, what you went through would be enough to traumatize anyone. Don’t feel like you need to do anything, like you have to prove anything.”

“That’s not what this is.” Across the room, I spotted Fang near Mike; he’d gravitated toward him, the only face in the room he knew beyond mine and Kieran’s—the latter of which was still stuck talking to people I didn’t know.

“Then what is it?”

My gaze shifted back to my dad. For a split second, I didn’t see the mayor. I didn’t see a man whose ambitions had grown to the point where they couldn’t be contained. The only thing I saw was my dad, and it threw me for a loop because I swore to myself my dad was behind it all.

But now… I was pretty sure I was wrong.

I decided to be honest with him: “It’s just me trying to be happy.”

Again, my dad sighed, and then he gave me a smile—and just like that, I knew everything was okay. “I suppose I can overlook who he works with and how old he is, as long as he makes you happy. I’m not happy, but that’s not the point. As long as you’re happy, I’m… okay with it. Mostly.”

“Thanks, Dad.”Around his figure, I saw a third person talking to Mike and Fang—Sylvester. I excused myself, and thankfully my dad didn’t try to stop me. I wove through the crowd, making it to the three men.

Fang’s expression lit up when I approached, while Sylvester gave me a nod. Mike said nothing, but his gaze did linger on me a few seconds too long before he resumed surveying the room.

“Where’s Lola?” I asked. I didn’t see her face anywhere, and hers wasn’t a face you’d miss in a crowd. Without a doubt, she’d be the best-looking here; I bet she could rock a fancy dress like nobody else.

Sylvester shrugged. “She wasn’t feeling too well, so she stayed home with the others. She said, and I quote, she didn’t want to get the little cutie sick.” It was almost funny hearing him say it.

I took a step away from him, muttering, “I hope you’re not sick.”

He chuckled. “Not as far as I know.” Sylvester was a handsome enough man; he cut quite the figure in a suit, it was true, but he didn’t look like your typical mobster. For one, he was blond, with lighter features all around. I knew he was Maddox’s brother, but it made me wonder if they were half-brothers or if Sylvester was adopted into the family.

Fang and Sylvester resumed discussing whatever it was they were talking about before I approached, and I let my eyes roam over the room and all the wealthy, hoity-toity people who came to pretend they’re good people who give a shit about charity.

Tessa was talking to a group of older women, while my dad was talking to a pair of fifty-something-year-old men who looked like they sweat money. For the first time since we got here, Kieran was off to himself in the far corner of the dimly-lit room.

It was like magic; he must’ve sensed I was staring at him, because his dark eyes shifted to me through the crowd, and he beckoned me over by nodding his head once.

I excused myself and made a beeline to Kieran. I’d given him a lot to digest right before we left; he might’ve had questions that couldn’t wait. This wasn’t exactly the best place to talk about it, but everyone else was busy having their own conversations, so even though we had eyes on us, it was as good as private.

The moment I reached Kieran, I could see the wheels turning in his head. His eyes were unfocused, and he seemed to be staring off into space. “How are you, uh, holding up?” I asked quietly.

His dark gaze refocused on me, and his lips tugged into a slight frown. “This isn’t…” He shook his head, then reached up and ran a hand through his hair. “This isn’t how I pictured it happening.”

I looked around us, at all of the people who came at my dad’s and Tessa’s call. They were as good as faceless to me. “For some reason, I don’t think you’re talking about this dinner party.” I bit my lower lip. “Don’t worry about it right now. There—”

“I just can’t believe it. Or maybe I don’t want to. Denial is a powerful thing.” He chuckled softly, but it was a bitter sound, devoid of true amusement. His black gaze examined me, and he moved so that the rest of the room had his back as he seemingly gazed deep into my soul. “You know I’ll always protect you, don’t you?”

My mouth opened, a reply ready—because of course I believed he would—but I didn’t get the chance to speak. Something in the back of my throat caught, and no words came out.

Kieran lifted a hand, and he touched my cheek and my jaw in much the same way he had in the house, only something felt different this time. Something nagged at me as he drew his fingertips down the side of my face, softly—so softly, like—

“I always have,” he murmured. “I—” It was clear he was going to say more, but Tessa called for him across the room, and he instantly pulled back from me and dropped his hand, no longer touching my face in a tender way only a lover would.

A lover, or…

My mind spun as I watched Kieran walk away from me. I was rooted in place, unable to move, and my thoughts were a confused conglomeration of memories, all vying for supremacy.

The way he touched me just now, how he’d touched me in the house and right after he’d gotten shot. They were all one and the same: a gentle caress, unspoken promises, quiet yearning for something he so desperately wanted but believed he could never have.

It was the same way someone else used to touch me, and that was why my mind was a mess.

I could not take my eyes off Kieran as he moved through the room, toward Tessa. A nagging, uncertain, confused ball had formed in my gut, growing bigger and bigger as the seconds went by. I could hardly breathe with the ghostly sensation of his touch still lingering on my face.

He made it to Tessa’s side, joining the conversation she was knee-deep in. He said something and made everyone around him laugh, even his sister, and then his head turned and we met eyes across the room. Just like that, the rest of the world ceased to exist; he had me in his web and he knew it.

The look on my face must’ve said it all. Kieran’s lips tugged into a smirk, devious and sly, and he lifted a hand, curling all his fingers into a fist except one—his index finger, and he brought that index finger before his mouth.

The room froze, along with all of the people inside it, or perhaps that’s just how I felt when I watched him mimic that gesture. The air was suddenly filled with a certainty, crisp and clear, bright as the day, and the truth of the matter made my lungs feel so very tight.

Kieran. He wasn’t… he couldn’t.

As soon as he made the gesture, he dropped it and returned his focus to Tessa and the people around them, and the moment his black eyes left me, it was like I was no longer pinned in place. A hard breath escaped me, and I felt woozy.

I needed to get away from this crowd. I needed… at this point, it was pretty clear I had no idea what I needed.

My feet took me out of the room, into the hall. My chest still felt tight, the dress constricting in a way it wasn’t before. My knees felt weak. I didn’t know how long I stood there, trying to gather myself, but it didn’t seem to help, maybe because I was too close to the room, too close to the dinner party and all of the guests. Maybe I needed to put more distance between me and everyone else so I’d have some peace and quiet, time to think, time to reason, time to come up with another logical explanation.

I took off in a run, not knowing where to go. I ran all the way down the hall, and once it dead-ended, I made a right and spotted a powder room sign. I dashed to the women’s, finding myself in a restroom that had a few small chairs and chaise lounges, along with a whole bunch of mirrors, before the actual restroom part.

Thankfully, I seemed to be alone, so I didn’t attempt to compose myself at all. I went for the closest seat and collapsed onto it, the velvety cushion soft but unwelcome at the same time.

An invisible pressure clawed at my throat, and the strapless bra I had on beneath this dress felt like it had grown two sizes too tight within the last few minutes. My thoughts still swirled around, the unease and anxiety inside me both unable and unwilling to calm as I replayed what Kieran said and what he did.

Just like that, all of the pieces began to come together.

He knew how to get into the house, where the cameras were, maybe even how to disable them. He knew when I’d stopped at Fang’s because he was there. But—no. When I went to that party with Kelly, he was still in the hospital, wasn’t he?

My eyelids slammed shut, and I was thrown back into that room, the room that was my entire life for two whole years. Chained to that bed, with nothing but a TV as my company, kept under lock and key for so damned long, with only the occasional masked Devil as my company.

My Devil. My Devil who brought me food, knew I liked the color pink, and never laid a hand on me—except that time when he let himself get close to me, when he lifted a gloved hand and ran his fingertips down the side of my face, nothing but shadowy, dark eyes staring out at me through that mask.

I reached up to my face, touching the spot where Kieran’s hand had lingered. The similarities were too much to ignore, and the shushing gesture… it was no coincidence.

I might’ve been out of it, but I could hear a man’s voice calling my name in the hall, so I responded by saying loudly, “I’m in here!”

My entourage funneled in, both Mike and Fang, and the moment they saw me safe and unharmed, they both visibly relaxed. Fang dropped to his knees before me, setting his hands on my outer thighs as those silver eyes of his scrutinized me, while Mike folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his stare, wordlessly asking me what I thought I was doing, wandering off by myself.

“Princess,” Fang whispered urgently, “what is it? Is something wrong? Tell us, and we will do whatever we can to make it right.”

He shouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. This… there was no making this right, because it was so wrong. It was the most wrong something could be, and that’s why I was having such a difficult time coming to terms with it.

All this time… he was right there.

Fang and Mike exchanged glances when I didn’t answer right away. How could I? It was as if my entire world had been turned upside-down, and I was still lost, tumbling down the rabbit hole into a land of confusion.

Mike’s rigid posture relaxed with a sigh, and he slowly moved toward me. His tall figure hunched down as he sat beside me on the chaise lounge chair, and though his hands were on his knees, I could tell he was wrestling with himself, stopping himself from reaching for me in much the same way Fang was. “Laina, what’s going on?”

“Did Kieran say something to you?” Fang’s brows came together as he asked that question. “If you’d like, I’d be more than happy to teach him a lesson in etiquette.” I didn’t doubt his lesson would involve some use of his sharp teeth.

“No,” I whispered. “I mean… yes. I don’t know. I—” I kind of felt like throwing up, but that’s just the shock talking. Nothing felt real, like I was having some sort of out of body experience and I couldn’t find my way back.

I looked down at Fang kneeling before me, so earnest in his desire to see me well again, his hands resting comfortably on my thighs, above the dress, and then I looked at Mike beside me, at how his hazel eyes seemed to press into me as he waited for more information. His tall, wide body was inches away; he did not touch me, and yet I’d never felt closer to him than I did in that moment.

I was vulnerable. There was only one person in the world who could make me feel so out of whack, and that was the man behind the mask. My Devil.

My Devil, who’d been right before my eyes this whole time.

“It’s him,” I whispered. “He’s here. He’s always been here, I just didn’t see him.” My words weren’t descriptive enough, because it’s clear neither man near me understood what I meant.

Fang was the one who asked for more, “Who? Who’s here?” When I didn’t answer right away, he glanced at Mike. “Did you see anyone?” All he got was a shake of the head as a reply; Mike had been standing lookout, one among many, ever since we got here. Nobody dangerous would just waltz right in.

But no one would see the danger if they expected it to come walking through the door. No one knew the danger was already inside the house.

“No,” I whispered. “No, it’s him. He’s my Devil.”

Mike leaped to his feet, slipping his hand beneath his suit jacket and pulling out his gun like he’s itching to use it. “Where? Are you sure?” The man wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in someone if I gave the order. Even though I’d told him about the party and giving my Devil everything, his first instinct was to shoot first and ask questions later.

The words that had been percolating in my head I was finally able to speak, and when I spoke them, I hardly sounded like myself: “It’s Kieran. Kieran is my Devil.”

“No,” Mike huffed. “No, it’s not possible. He—” Something in him clicked and then darkened. “I’m going to kill him.” A whispered statement, spoken so grimly, I didn’t doubt he meant it with all of his heart.

He’d kill Kieran for kidnapping me and keeping me locked up for two years. He’d kill him harder for coming to me at that party and fucking me.

Fang, on the other hand, did not appear shocked in the least. He only blinked up at me as he said, “I knew he was more than an overprotective step-uncle to you. I sensed something in him. I warned you to be careful with him, didn’t I?” Behind him, the other man in the room kept muttering about how he was going to kill Kieran.

Kieran was my Devil. The words didn’t sound right, and yet in my heart of hearts, I knew it was true. All this time I spent pining over my faceless man, I was really pining over Kieran.

Kieran. The sarcastic little shit who’d done nothing but bug the shit out of me before my kidnapping. The man who never knew when to let things go—the one who’d turned a jealous leaf ever since my escape.

He was jealous and possessive because we shared something no one else could ever grasp. He acted like he owned me because, in a way, he did. The Devil had my heart from the beginning, and he didn’t take kindly to other men encroaching on his territory.

What a game he played, and what a good liar he was. All this time, I never suspected… I never knew. My Devil had been right in front of my eyes this entire time, and I’d known his name from the beginning.

Kieran, why?