Chapter 22
There was nothing like a long, hot shower to clear my mind.
At least, that was usually the case. Not today, though.
Today, it didn’t matter how long I stood under the steaming spray or let the water hammer down over my shoulders; nothing was getting any clearer. I was still horribly confused.
How could I be in love with a cold-blooded killer?
It didn’t make any sense.
Even before my sister’s murder, I’d dedicated my life to stopping pain and suffering. I healed people. I stitched their wounds. I made them better. It was my calling in life.
So how in the world could I have fallen for someone who made their living taking lives?
And I had fallen for Dorian—totally and completely. There was no denying that.
All it had taken were a few seductive words and one searing kiss, and all of my resolve had melted away. I’d wrapped myself around him, never wanting to let go.
And I’d do it again.
There wasn’t a single doubt in my mind. Tonight, tomorrow night, the one after that, I’d spend all of them in his arms if given the chance…and then I’d hate myself once it was over.
Just like I did now.
I raised my hands, scrubbing them over my face again and again.
I’d never been so confused…not even during those first few days on the run. Back then, I might have been scared and alone, but at least my moral compass was still intact. The world might have thought I was guilty, but I knew the truth.
I knew I was innocent. I knew I was principled. I knew I was still a good person.
But not anymore.
Now, everything I thought I knew about myself was in doubt.
How innocent could I be if I let someone with blood-stained hands touch me in the most intimate ways? How principled was it to love every damn minute of it? How good could I be if I spent every waking moment daydreaming about doing it again?
Clearly, I’d been lying to myself.
Either I’d been surviving in the criminal margins of society for so long that I’d become corrupted, or I was never as virtuous as I like to imagine myself.
Truth be told, it was probably a bit of both.
But when I heard the bathroom door open, it was time for self-reflection to take a backseat. I opened my eyes to see Dorian’s shadow outlined in the frame.
“I hate to rush you,” he said, his deep, rumbling voice affecting me even as the image of what he’d done to Carlo was fresh in my mind. “But we have an appointment to make.”
My confusion only grew.
“We do?” I asked, even as I turned off the water.
“I’ve arranged another meeting with my brothers,” he said. “And you’re coming with me.”
“Do I have to go?” Stepping out of the shower, I gratefully took the soft, fresh towel he held out for me.
“Yes,” he answered plainly, stepping back to watch me dry off. “There’s a chance Sal might return before I can change the locks. I won’t risk him finding you here alone.”
I swallowed down past the lump that was quickly forming in my throat.
Though I’d spent most of the conversation between the two men focusing on Dorian’s horrible confessions, there was no denying Sal D’Angelo was frightening in his own right. Simply sitting in a chair, the man radiated a cold, calculating kind of danger.
Dorian was right—I didn’t want to find myself alone with Sal.
“Okay,” I said with a half-hearted nod before drying my body and wrapping the towel around my hair.
“Kiera.” He wrapped his hand around my arm, stopping me as I tried to step out of the bathroom. His deep blue eyes probed mine. “Is everything all right?”
I was careful to keep my expression flat as I met his gaze.
“I’m romantically entangled with a notorious assassin, and now I have to go out to meet up with his gangster brothers because his mob boss uncle might kill me if I stay home alone. What could possibly be wrong?”
Clearly, Dorian wasn’t a fan of sarcasm. I watched the muscles along his jaw twitch as he stood there silently staring at me for a few seconds. I felt a rush of satisfaction when he was the one to blink first.
“Sal isn’t my uncle,” he said, letting go of my arm.
I shook my head in disbelief as I went to the closet to get dressed.
“That’s the only part I got wrong? You do realize how disturbing that is, don’t you?”
“It sounds like you just need a little extra time to come to terms with who I really am.”
“Honestly, that part makes perfect sense,” I said, pulling on a fresh bra and panty set. “If I hadn’t been drowning in denial, I would have seen it long ago. It’s who I am that’s going to take me a while to wrap my head around.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean, what kind of woman falls in—“ I stopped myself just in time. The last thing I needed to be doing was throwing that word around. I tried again. “What kind of woman knowingly sleeps with a killer?”
“In your case, a good and caring one,” Dorian answered before moving closer. “What were you going to say before you stopped yourself?”
“Nothing,” I quickly tried to change the subject. “What should I wear? I don’t know where we’re going.”
“The red dress,” he said, pointing to the form-fitting, cherry red piece without looking away from me for even a second. “And it wasn’t nothing. Tell me what you were going to say. What kind of woman falls in what?”
I should have known he would never let it go that easy.
I turned my attention toward the clothes, slipping the dress over my head and enjoying the feel of the silky fabric against my freshly washed skin.
Whoever had shopped for this wardrobe was nothing short of a miracle worker. The dress fit like a dream, hugging my curves just right and dipping down just far enough down my cleavage to make me feel sexy but not overexposed.
Well, at least being a mob girlfriend isn’t all bad news, I thought contemptuously to myself.
“I should dry my hair,” I said, trying to step past Dorian, but he refused to move. Even in the wide closet, his massive form blocked my way.
He hooked his finger under my chin, lifting it up and forcing me to meet his demanding gaze. “What were you going to say, Kiera?”
“Nothing,” I repeated, doubling down.
“Don’t lie to me,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his ridiculously broad chest. “I can tolerate anything but lies.”
Well, too fucking bad. Because right now, the truth was the one pill I couldn’t force myself to swallow.
So I crossed my own arms, looked Dorian straight in the eye, and lied my damn ass off.
“Falling apart,” I said flatly. “When I’m with you, I fear that I’m falling apart.”