Page 88

“So, which is it?” I snap. “Are you angry or worried?”

Killian loosens his grip. “Can’t I be both?” His voice is thick in a way that has me averting my gaze. “If something were to happen to you—”

“Arthur would never forgive you. I know.” I grind out the words.

“No, Shiv,” Killian says, looking at me in a way I’d rather not see. “It’s me who’d never forgive myself.” I try to jerk free, but he tightens his hold. “Look at me,” he says, but I shake my head and keep my focus on the road. “Shiv, please.”

So I do. I take a deep breath and force my gaze to meet his. And the look I find leaves me wishing I hadn’t. I don’t want to see what he’s feeling, and I certainly don’t want to know.

I start to turn away when Killian lifts a hand to my cheek. “What are you so afraid of?” he whispers.

“Nothing,” I say. “It’s just—I’m with Braxton. And you know that. So, why do you insist on—”

“Why do I insist on what? Going after the one thing I want more than anything else?” He tilts his head closer to mine, until his lips are just a heartbeat away. “Last I checked, you and Braxton were neither married nor engaged. Hell, you haven’t even been together that long. And I’m willing to bet you don’t know each other nearly as well as you think.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know anything about us,” I say.

“Maybe not.” He shrugs. “But I know you don’t know the most important part.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “This again?” I say. “The same old story about how Braxton ditched you in Versailles—is that the best you can do?”

“That’s just the prologue.” He frowns. “There’s an entire story still to follow.”

“Then why not just tell me? I mean, it’s not like I can go anywhere—not with you holding me hostage.”

In an instant, he loosens his grip. “You’re not a hostage,” he says. “And, for the record, Iwilltell you someday. I’ll tell you the whole bloody story so you can decide for yourself just exactly whose version you’re willing to trust.”

“So, why not now? Why not just get it over with and quit playing around? You’re hardly the first person to hint at whatever this is.” My mind reels back to what Song once said—how I don’t really know Braxton; how I don’t really know any of them.You haven’t been around long enough to hear all the stories.

Killian looks surprised but is quick to contain it. “I refuse to win your favor by default. I prefer to win you over by my own merits. But that’ll require you giving me a chance. You like me, Shiv. There’s no point denying it. That’s why you’re so afraid to even meet me halfway. You’re afraid of the feelings I stir up inside you. You’re afraid of this—”

His face looms closer, so close his lips are just a whisper from mine.

My breath catches, refuses to come. There’s an infinity of choices passing between us but only one that I’m willing to make.

“Tell me,” he says. “Do you love him?”

“That’s none of your business,” I say, the words barbed on my tongue.

“And I acknowledge that.” Killian gives a curt nod. “You’re under no obligation to answer to me. Though I am wondering if you can answer for yourself. Do you love Braxton, Shiv?”

Do I love Braxton?

I want to love Braxton.

Sometimes I think for sure I love Braxton.

But then I remember last night on the dance floor, how I was sure he was about to say those three words to me, and how unprepared I felt to face a moment like that. And so I kissed him. Kissed the words right off his lips to ensure that he didn’t,couldn’t, speak them to me.

Do I love Braxton?

How is that possible when I’m not even sure I really know who Braxton is?

“I’m no mind reader,” Killian says. “But I do know how to read a face. And what I see in yours points heavily toward undecided. And I’m telling you, it shouldn’t be that hard. It’s an answer that lives in your heart, not in your head.”

“Oh, and now you’re an expert on love?” I bite off the words.

Killian scoffs. “Hardly,” he says. “Though I do know what it feels like to be completely besotted by someone.”