Page 28

He said he wouldn’t go after any of the Used. I want to believe him, but… shit. Look at him. The angelic boy he once was has turned into a man made of sin. I nearly swallowed my tongue when I saw him. He’s so fuckingbeautiful, and I’m supposed to believe he’s mine?

No. I shove the blankets away from me. Not mine.

I’mhis.

That’s the distinction. That’s the way Adrian sees it, and when I think that? I might just understand him a little more.

Maybe.

Or maybe I’m just fooling myself.

Ugh!

I can’t sleep. And maybe I’m just as crazy as he must be because I don’t think I’ll be able to until I make sure that he’s somewhere in the house. That he didn’t have Father Francis marry us in the religious ceremony before slipping out to do whatever it is he does. The only marriage certificate I signed had Desmond’s name on it so, unless that can be changed, we’re notlegallymarried, though something warns me against ever mentioning that to Adrian.

It’s quarter after twelve. Padding out of the well-decorated bedroom in my bare feet, I tiptoe down the hall. Before, I caught him glancing at the first doorway on the right and assumed that must be his. The door was shut then.

It’s open now.

Grabbing the doorjamb, I peek inside.

It’s too dark to make out his features. Luckily, I grabbed my phone. Not because I had anyone to call—because, um, Idon’t—but because I used the flashlight to guide my way down the quiet,empty hall. It’s still on. I lift it quickly, hoping that the sudden flash doesn’t disturb him.

Adrian is definitely in bed. Even more importantly, he’s alone. Wearing a pair of low-slung pajama pants and nothing else, my gaze is drawn to his bare chest, watching its slow rise and fall as he snores softly.

I’ve never seen him so vulnerable. There never was a chance for us to actually sleep side-by-side together. Knowing that, in less than a week, I’ll be curled up in that bed with him…

I shake my head. No.No. This can’t work. Adrian and me? There’s no way this can be my happily-ever-after.

I had a plan to get rid of Desmond. That turned out to be way easier than I ever thought it would be, and while Adrian is definitely a wrench I wasn’t expecting, that doesn’t change things too much. There has got to be a way to get rid of him before I’m in too deep.

I don’t know what that is just yet, but I’ll figure it out. That’s what I do.

The girl that Adrian knew grew up. If he thinks he can just call the shots and I’ll do what I’m told… well, he might just regret taking Desmond’s place after all.

Knock.Knock.

“Loni, you up? Breakfast is ready.”

Fuck.

I’m awake. To be honest, I barely slept at all. I crawled back into bed a little before one, got maybe five or six hours of fitful sleep, then gave up on it shortly after the sun rose. I slipped out to the bathroom again, freshening up before Adrian was moving about, then locked myself into my new room.

Two hours later, here he is. That’s his voice calling through the door. The rap of his knuckles against the wood… I know that knock. If I don’t answer him, it’ll become more of a bang any minute now.

Breakfast. It was my bright idea to suggest that that be two of the meals I’m forced to share with him. If I thought that I could get this marriage annulled by not following the Order’s archaic rules when it comes to marriage, I’d pretend to be asleep. But since I know that it would only piss off the King if I didn’t play my part—and, even if I’m pissed at Dad for leaving me alone at the altar yesterday, I know that he’d be on the chopping block again if I test Jack Collins’s patience—I take a deep breath, then call out, “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“In the kitchen, princess. And don’t be late.”

I pick up the pillow behind me, launching it at the door. It hits with a muffledthudthat doesn’t do a thing, but at least I feel better.

I allow myself five minutes before I leave the sanctity of my private bedroom. I changed into a cozy t-shirt and a pair of leggings. Instead of those torturous heels from the wedding, I have on a pair of flat white sneakers in case I need to bolt. Without my car, that’s basically all I can do. It’s probably overkill, but I prefer to be prepared.

Which is why I also have my phone tucked in my bra, and my wavy hair pulled back into a low ponytail…

I walk into the kitchen, head up, hoping like hell he can’t tell how nervous I am.

Inside of the kitchen, there’s a small table. It seats four; compared to the massive table in the dining room, I get the feeling that this is where Adrian usually eats, leaving the twelve-seater for either dinner parties or, honestly, just showing off his obvious wealth.