Chapter 4 #2
Because your tears got stuck in my fucking head. Because hearing you talk about wanting something normal made me want to burn every person who convinced you it was impossible. Because somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing you as leverage and started seeing you.
Instead, I said, “You were right.”
That got her attention immediately .
“Because you destroyed my birthday?” She asked softly.
“Yes.”
The honesty seemed to throw her more than excuses would’ve. I didn’t do lies well unless survival required them.
She studied me carefully for a long moment before finally leaning back slightly in the chair.
“Well,” she confessed. “This is deeply confusing.”
“Get used to disappointment.”
“There he is,” she sighed dramatically. “I was worried the emotionally damaged psychopath version of you disappeared for a second.”
A small laugh almost escaped me before I strangled it immediately.
Dinner arrived shortly after, and somehow, against every expectation I had, the conversation became easy. Not comfortable, but easy in the strange way things became around Emerald whether I wanted them to or not.
She talked with her hands constantly, complained about the wine being “pretentious,” criticized the music choice, and somehow insulted three separate candle arrangements within ten minutes.
Still beautiful. Fucking irritating. I found myself watching her more than eating. The way her lips curved when she laughed. The way candlelight warmed her skin gold .
The way she relaxed slowly as the night continued, shoulders loosening little by little until she stopped looking ready to bolt from the room.
“You’re staring again,” she said suddenly. I took another drink instead of answering.
“That means yes,” she replied smugly.
“You talk too much.”
“And yet you keep asking me questions.”
That part surprised me too. I asked about her hobbies first. Books. Fashion. Baking despite being objectively terrible at it. Then music. Movies. Places she wanted to travel someday.
Every answer came layered in sarcasm at first before gradually softening into honesty the longer we sat there. And I listened. Actually listened. Another problem I seem to be having.
“What about you?” she asked eventually.
“What about me?”
“What do you like?”
I nearly laughed. What did I like? Violence came easiest. Silence. Control. Survival. Nothing about my life contained softness worth speaking aloud.
“I work,” I answered finally .
Emerald stared at me in disbelief. “That’s the saddest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“It’s the truth.”
“That doesn’t make it less depressing.”
Her eyes lingered on me another moment before she leaned her chin into her hand.
“What did you want growing up?”
The question hit somewhere strange. I looked away first.
“I didn’t grow up wanting things.”
For once, she didn’t joke. Didn’t tease. Just watched me quietly like she understood there were some doors inside me not even I touched anymore. I shifted the conversation immediately.
“What about you?”
“What about me?” She asked.
“What do you want?”
Her expression changed instantly. Small. Subtle, but I caught it. Emerald looked almost serious, then just as quickly, she smiled again. Too fast.
“World domination obviously.”
“Liar. ”
Her gaze flickered toward mine sharply. “I’m serious.”
“No,” I said quietly. “You’re hiding something.”
Emerald looked down at the table briefly before exhaling softly through her nose.
“It’s stupid.”
“Tell me anyway.”
She hesitated. “I want a family.”
The words landed gently. Dangerously gently. Her fingers traced absent patterns against the stem of her wine glass while her voice softened into something almost fragile.
“My own family,” she clarified quietly. “One that isn’t built on secrets and violence and everyone lying to each other constantly.”
I stayed silent. Because something tight had started pulling painfully through my chest.
“I know it sounds ridiculous,” she continued with a small laugh. “Especially considering my life.”
“It doesn’t sound ridiculous.”
Her eyes lifted toward mine slowly.
“I want kids someday,” she admitted. “I want... normal things. ”
Normal. The word felt foreign coming from her mouth.
“I barely remember my parents,” she said softly. “Not really. Just pieces. Stories people told me after they died.”
Candlelight flickered across her face while emotion moved quietly behind her eyes now.
“But everyone always talked about how much they loved each other,” she whispered. “How my dad would’ve done anything for my mom. Anything for us.”
Alexander and Cecilia Deveraux. The names sat bitter in my head.
Emerald smiled faintly, almost embarrassed by herself now. “I know it’s unrealistic.”
I bit my tongue hard enough to taste blood, because I wanted to say something. Something ugly. Something honest. She noticed immediately.
“You have thoughts?” She asked carefully.
“Yes.”
“And they’re probably rude.”
“Yes.”
A small sigh escaped her. “Well, go ahead then.”
I leaned back slightly in the chair, studying her across the candles and shadows .
“I didn’t know Alexander,” I said slowly. “Or Cecilia.”
Her shoulders tightened almost instantly.
“But from everything I’ve heard,” I continued carefully, “I don’t think their story was as perfect as everyone made it sound.”
“Nikolai—”
“No.” My voice stayed calm. “Listen.”
She went quiet reluctantly.
“I’m sure they loved each other,” I said. “But love alone means nothing if you fail the people depending on you.”
Her expression hardened immediately.
“My father did not fail us.”
“Didn’t he?”
The words landed sharp. I saw the exact second they struck somewhere vulnerable. Still, I continued because I couldn’t stop once the honesty started bleeding out.
“Your family spent years surrounded by danger,” I said coldly. “Secrets. Violence. Manipulation.”
“That wasn’t their fault.”
“No,” I agreed quietly. “But protecting the people you love is your responsibility regardless. ”
Emerald looked furious now. Hurt too, however, still, I couldn’t stop.
“If I loved someone,” I said slowly, voice lowering into something darker, “I would never let anyone touch them.” Silence swallowed the room entirely.
“I would burn the fucking world to the ground first.”
Emerald went completely quiet. No sarcasm. No teasing. Just those blue eyes fixed on me like she was seeing something dangerous beneath my skin for the first time. Maybe she was.
The silence stretched long enough that I finally stood from the table abruptly before the conversation became something I couldn’t take back.
“I’ll be right back.”
I left before she could answer. The hallway outside felt colder. I dragged one hand across my face slowly while trying to steady the strange pressure tightening through my chest.
What the fuck are you doing?
This girl was supposed to be revenge. A weapon. A hostage. Instead, I was standing outside a candlelit dinner fighting the instinct to touch her every time she looked at me too long. Pathetic.
I grabbed the bouquet of black roses waiting nearby before returning to the dining room .
Emerald looked up immediately when I walked back inside. Then her eyes dropped toward the flowers. A slow smile spread across her face.
“Of course they’re black.”
My mouth finally twitched properly this time. Her eyes widened slightly like she couldn’t believe she’d actually witnessed it.
I stopped beside her chair and held them out silently. She accepted them carefully, fingers brushing mine briefly in the exchange. Too soft. Everything about her felt too soft against me.
I held out my hand toward her then without thinking too hard about it. Emerald looked down at it before slowly placing her smaller hand into mine.
I helped her carefully to her feet, and when she stood close enough for her perfume to wrap around me again, something dark shifted violently beneath my ribs.
My thumb dragged slowly across the back of her hand before I could stop myself. Soft skin against rough scars. Years of violence etched into my hands touching something painfully delicate.
Emerald’s breathing caught quietly. My eyes lifted toward hers slowly.
“Even the darkest things can still be beautiful,” I said quietly .
Then before I could reconsider it—I lifted her hand to my mouth and kissed the back of it gently. Heat flooded visibly across her pale skin almost immediately, pink rising slowly up her throat and cheeks while her lips parted softly in surprise.
Fuck. I felt it too.
I released her hand before I did something catastrophically stupid.
“Come on,” I stated roughly.
I walked her upstairs afterward because apparently my self-control had entirely abandoned me tonight.
The hallway remained quiet except for the soft sound of her heels against marble and the occasional rustle of flowers in her arms.
The entire walk, she refused to let go of my hand. I let her. Another mistake.
When we finally reached her bedroom door, I turned toward her slowly.
Emerald looked up at me with flushed cheeks and blue eyes still soft from the dinner. Dangerous. So fucking dangerous.
“Goodnight, Emerald.”
Her fingers tightened slightly around mine.
“Goodnight. ”
I leaned down carefully, intending something harmless. A kiss against her cheek. Controlled. Safe. My mouth barely brushed near her skin before everything exploded sideways.
The flowers hit the floor first.
Then suddenly Emerald grabbed the back of my head hard enough to shock me completely still before her mouth crashed against mine.
My brain stopped functioning completely. One second, I was trying to maintain control. The next, Emerald was kissing me like she wanted to destroy every coherent thought left inside my head.
Soft lips. Warm breath. Her fingers tangled tightly into my hair while she pressed herself against me without hesitation.
God. The sound that nearly came out of me was fucking inhuman.
I snapped. One hand slammed against the wall beside her head while the other grabbed her waist hard enough to pull her fully against me.
The kiss turned vicious instantly. Hungry. Months of restraint and anger and tension collapsing all at once. She made a soft sound against my mouth that nearly fucking killed me.
My hands tightened instinctively against her waist while her body melted closer, soft dress bunching beneath my fingers as every rational thought inside me burned alive .
This was wrong. So, fucking wrong. She was Roman Deveraux’s sister. My hostage. The daughter of enemies. Somehow none of that mattered while she kissed me back like she wanted this just as badly.
I finally tore myself away hard enough we were both breathing unevenly. Emerald looked wrecked. Flushed cheeks. Swollen lips. Blue eyes dark and wide while she stared up at me like she couldn’t fully believe what she’d done either.
My chest rose sharply. I looked at her like she had become the most dangerous thing that ever happened to me. Because she had.
“Go inside,” I said roughly.
She swallowed hard but didn’t move.
“Nikolai—”
“Inside!” My voice came out harsher that time.
Not anger. Protection. From me. Emerald stared at me one final second before slowly stepping backward toward the bedroom door. I waited until she disappeared inside completely before finally dragging one hand across my face violently.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The worst part wasn’t the kiss. The worst part was that for those few seconds with her mouth against mine— My frozen fucking heart actually felt something.