Chapter 3
brENDEN
“I’ve never made a woman faint before.” I flick open a gold lighter, snap the flame into life, and close it again with a sharp click. “I’m not sure it happened how I would’ve liked though.”
My sister snorts and pours two glasses of wine.
I flick the lighter, close it again, over and over.
These days I’m never comfortable unless my fingers are moving.
I hate sitting still, despise the thought of spending my days hanging around quietly reading or shuffling through parties shaking hands and making small talk.
I need motion, some goal, something to aim myself toward like an arrow.
“I don’t think it was your charm that did it.” Riley hands me the glass of wine and sits heavily on my sofa. She sighs, stretching her legs.
“No, it was probably the Davis’s freaking heat running in August. Poor girl looked like she was melting.”
“I felt like I was going to come unglued.” Riley gestures for me to join her. “You’re making me uncomfortable. Sit down at least.”
I ignore my dear sister. Flick, click, snap. Over and over. “She didn’t seem to like our plan.”
“We didn’t get to talk to her about it. Her sister and father rushed her out of there.”
“They were worried about heat stroke.”
“Can’t blame them. Her face was bright red.”
I don’t bother mentioning that her cheeks were that same color after she came on my tongue.
Riley would not approve.
Frankly, I wouldn’t blame her.
I wasn’t in that office to meet my future wife for the first time. It only happened to work out that way. Flick, click, snap.
“How are you feeling about all this?” Riley acts like she’s not interested in the question, like she’s only being polite, but I know my sister better than that. She’s probing. It’s what I’d do in her position.
“Honest truth?”
“I prefer the dishonest kind. Yes, Brenden, honest truth please.”
“I don’t want this.”
She tilts her glass in a slow circle. “But?”
“No but. That’s it.”
“Come on, you know why it’s happening. Maybe this is going to be good for you.” Riley’s face brightens. “She’s really pretty, right?”
“If you’re into that sort of thing.”
“Beautiful women?”
Flick, click, snap. I don’t bother answering.
Tallie’s been stuck in my head since I kissed her in the office on a whim after brushing her perfect, olive-toned skin with a priceless lighter.
I hope she’s still got her matching pair.
Flick, click, snap. Maybe her fingers are touching it right now and she’s remembering the way my mouth felt between her legs and she’s thinking maybe it won’t be so bad marrying a twisted, failed, broken man like Brenden McGrath—
Riley drinks her wine and rubs her face. “I tried to talk him out of it,” she admits reluctantly. “I told him you weren’t ready, but he insisted. Arsen thinks this is the best way we can bring you into the fold, you know, now that you’re—“
She doesn’t finish the sentence. Bitterness wells in my throat.
“Now that I’m disgraced?”
“On the outs. Come on, don’t be like that.”
“You said it, not me.”
Riley fidgets. Flick, click, snap. “This’ll be good for you. It’ll give you some purpose, create a path back into the family, and Dad wants it, so—“
“Dad? I haven’t heard from him in months. Didn’t know he was still aware of my existence.”
“Yeah, well, you know him.”
“He’s a fucking prick?”
“More or less. Focus on the positives. Tallie’s a really nice girl. She’s going to be a good wife, if you let her.”
I can’t look at my sister anymore. I pace back and forth, spinning the lighter between my fingers. God, if she only knew what me and that really nice girl did in the office, Riley might change her tune.
But it’s not like I hold it against Tallie or anything like that. I was the one who made a move on her, already knowing who she was and what we were to each other. She had no clue, which explains the fainting after she found out she got sold off to a minor thief and a major failure.
“This is how you can be useful again. I know you’ve been suffering here with nothing to do. You haven’t been able to take any jobs, haven’t been able to do anything but stomp around this beautiful apartment.” She gestures at my place and doesn’t bother to hide her disdain.
Not that I disagree, but I don’t love getting that judgement from my sister.
“I choose to stay here. It’s out of the way. Nobody knows me.”
“But you could afford better if you wanted, and now that you’re going to get married—“
“Is that why you pushed to arrange me to a Sarkissian cousin? So I’d move into a nicer place?”
“Won’t hurt.”
“Come on, Riley. You don’t have to fix me. I’m not even broken.”
She suddenly acts like her wine glass is very interesting and I realize I’m squeezing the lighter so tight its edges are biting into my palm.
I let out a breath and run a hand through my hair, clenching my jaw.
The worst part of this is, she’s right, I need something to drag me from this horrible in-between place I’ve found myself, disgraced but not exiled, recovering from too many wounds and still suffering from all the awful shit that went down in Vegas and the fallout from it afterwards, and maybe that something is going to be Tallie.
Or else I’ll be a crappy husband like I’m a crappy brother.
Nobody needs that shit in their life.
Least of all a nice girl like Tallie.
“I know you aren’t broken.” My sister’s voice is small and clearly hurting. “But you haven’t been the same. I miss you, you know? The old you, the one that wasn’t always hiding.”
“I’m not hiding. I’m right here.”
“Yeah, true, you’re right here, in some nondescript apartment with a go-bag waiting near the door and rented furniture. It’s like you barely exist.”
“The go-bag is practical. I don’t care about apartment decorations like you do. We’re different people, that’s all.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely different. I want to help, but—“ She takes a breath and downs her wine. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Tallie will come around. The wedding’s happening in a few weeks. You’ll be ready, right?”
“I promised you I’d do it.”
She gets up and hugs me fiercely. “I know you did. I hope you actually show up, that’s all.”
I pat her back, not really sure what to say. “I’ll be there. You know I will be.”
“Someone will, anyway,” she mutters, squeezing one more time before letting me go.
I wonder what it must’ve been like growing up in a place like this.
Big house, warm, beautifully decorated. The cameras on the exterior are a pain, but I manage to find their blind spots without too much effort.
My arms are iron but I move slowly and carefully along a drainpipe, trusting to the deep shadows of the darkest part of the night to keep me hidden from any prying eyes down below.
Did she like it? From what I hear, there are nine kids in total. God, Haik and his wife must’ve pumped them out, one after the other. Did they start to wonder if enough was enough at some point? Maybe by kid seven they were like, maybe just two more? But ten, no thanks, that’s too much.
I can’t imagine having that many siblings.
It was always me and Riley growing up and nobody else.
What would it have been like to have seven other kids packed into our place?
Loud and annoying, definitely not good for my personality.
I prefer solitary silence and always have.
Riley’s the only person I’ve ever let intrude on my life, which she has done consistently over the years.
I can’t complain too much, since her husband saved my life.
Whatever life there’s left in me.
I hold myself in place with my legs and crack open a window.
It slides quietly and I slip inside without making too much noise.
I land on a pink rug, crouching in the blackness, listening for any sound.
But there’s nothing: the room looks like it was a little girl’s at some point, but now there’s a desk and one of those fancy stationary bikes.
I take a moment to get my bearings. The hallway is pitch black and there’s no noise from any of the other rooms. A few of the doors are open, showing empty space, eerily dead and silent.
What was this place like when the kids were all younger?
Chaotic, most likely. God, imagine trying to sneak around this place back then. It must’ve been a nightmare.
I find the door I’m looking for and let myself inside.
It’s another bedroom. This one is less girly though.
The walls are light blue and the vanity is a mess of makeup and skincare products.
A dresser sits against one wall with all the drawers open.
I ghost over and brush my fingers over black workout gear, dark red silk panties, and a bunch of white t-shirts.
A bed dominates most of the space, the covers rumpled, a figure lying in the very center, barely more than a lump and some hair.
Gold glitters in the darkness. It catches my eye as I drift nearer.
The lighter is left in a small dish on an end table beside a charging phone.
I stare at it, heart pattering, and I know this is stupid.
I shouldn’t be here. Only I can’t stop thinking about her, not since I caught her tits-out in that study.
I knew the second she let out that sigh of satisfaction when she snapped on the fan that she was going to be trouble, and now here I am, being a fucking idiot and taking a massive risk for no upside.
Why this girl? Why can’t I walk away? If I tried, they’d come for me. After what the Sarkissians did to save my life, I owe them too damn much to disappear. But I’m also broken and worthless, disgraced in ways I’m still figuring out, so why marry me off to her?
And why curse her with me?
So many fucking questions, but I feel that old familiar itch. It’s a nagging voice goading me, an impulse I’ve never been able to control. With my teeth clenched, I take the lighter I stole and place it gently on top of her matching version. I scan the dresser for something—
And pluck an old night time mouthguard from a little plastic case.
Ah, it’s perfect. I grip it in my fist and step back from the bed.
It wouldn’t be hard to wake her. I move around, trying to get a better view of her face, but she stirs.
I could sit on the edge and lightly shake her, cover her mouth, tell her I’ve come here to have another taste before she’s officially my wife.
But is that what I’m doing? Trying to kiss her? Trying to touch her?
Creepy fucking way to come on to my fiancée.
I back off toward the door. This was reckless and dangerous.
I’ve always been good about controlling myself—in everything but this.
Breaking into places I shouldn’t be, exploring rooms I’m not meant to explore, finding out secrets everyone wishes would stay locked away. It’s all I’ve ever been good at.
I get the hell out of there before I do something truly stupid.
Back down the hall, through the old girl’s room, and out the window.
I slide it shut behind me and descend the drain pipe.
I land on the sidewalk, crouch and listen to make sure nobody’s sounding an alarm, before casually walking around the side of the building and toward the main road.
“Excuse me? Brenden McGrath?”
I flinch sideways, hand going to the small gun I have in a holster at my hip, but freeze with my fingers on the grip.
A young man stands near the house, dark hair and eyes, a friendly smile on his face.
His skin is olive-toned, like Talin’s, and they have the same eyebrows. The familial resemblance is obvious.
“Don’t know who that is.” I’m not sure why I bother lying. I’m going to marry his fucking sister soon.
I tug up my hood and start walking.
The young man catches up. “I just wanted to ask what you took from her room, that’s all.
Honestly, I don’t care that you broke in.
The drainpipe was a really good idea, and it would’ve worked, except I set a pressure sensor on it a couple years ago, really subtle stuff, don’t feel bad.
I doubt there are five people in the whole city who could’ve got up that thing either way. You’re as impressive as I hoped.”
I slow my pace and look sideways. He seems utterly at ease and genuine. There’s no anger in his expression, no hint of danger. He’s walking alongside me and practically buzzing with excitement.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He barks a happy laugh. “Fantastic! Deny everything! Yeah, I could be better at that honestly. My sisters catch me all the time. They’re like bloodhounds, I swear, especially Tallie.
She comes off all innocent and stuff, but believe me, she’s the dangerous one.
” The young man stops walking. Despite myself, I stop to face him.
“I’m Sam. We’re gonna be brothers soon.”
“You’re mistaking me for someone else.”
“I bet I am.” His grin widens. “Come on, I’m begging you. What’d you take from her room? Don’t tell me you left emptyhanded. You were in there for less than a minute.”
Sam Sarkissian, full name Samvel. Now I recognize him. The fact that I didn’t know immediately is a problem. I have to work harder to memorize all the damn siblings in the file I built on the full family. Sam’s the second youngest, and from what I’ve heard, he’s a real troublemaker.
I should walk away. Sam caught me, which is impressive enough, but he really doesn’t seem upset at all, more fascinated by the tradecraft of the whole visit. I knew this was a risk, and I’m probably making another mistake, but I can’t help myself.
The kid seems too excited to disappoint.
I slip the mouthguard from my pocket and hold it out in my hand.
Sam gasps and covers his mouth, nose wrinkling. “Disgusting. I figured it would be a pair of her underwear or something.”
I close my fingers around the guard.
“One more question. How’d you get in the window? They’re all locked and Dad upgraded them to these stupid security versions a year back that are a huge pain in the ass from the outside.”
I put the guard back in my pocket and turn away.
“Please! Come on! I’ve been trying to figure out a way to crack them for months!”
I pull my hood tighter around my face and move faster.
Sam’s groan of frustration follows me. “You’ll tell me someday! Or I’ll figure it out and we’ll compare notes. I’m a huge fan of yours, by the way. Have a great night, Brenden!”
I try to stop the stupid grin from shoving itself across my face, but can’t manage it.
He’s a fan of mine?
What the fuck am I getting myself into?