Page 188 of Beautiful Lies

“I truly, truly can’t thank you enough.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t do this before. Things could have been handled better. You shouldn’t have found out the way you did about my plans.”

“It was Chad,” I say his name with caution.

“I know.” His jaw clenches. “When I found out he leaked the information, I went to see him.”

My breath catches. “What happened?” I pray they didn’t fight again.

“Something unexpected,” Knox reasons. “It seems he finally got the message that you’ve moved on, so he gave me everything he found out about us. Including the contract.”

“He gave youeverything?” I was bracing for another scandal.

“He did. But even if he goes back to the press, it doesn’t matter. The restaurant’s staying, and so are we.”

“We are.”

He gives me another kiss, then pushes to his feet. “How about that healthy meal I promised you?”

“That sounds great.”

“I’m going to make you that bacon omelet you liked in Italy.”

I gasp. “Oh, wow, I would really love that.”

He heads to the fridge while rolling his sleeves up past his forearms. The sight of him alone warms my heart. He pulls the meat and vegetables from the fridge, sets a pan on the stove, and reaches for a knife. But he moves too quickly and pricks his thumb.

“Damn it,” he swears, laughing. “Need to be more careful.”

A thin line of blood slides down his thumb. He grabs a paper towel to wipe it, but my eyes stay glued to the blood.

And just like that, the memory of Madame Corvina’s dreadful curse claws its way to the front of my mind.

I see it all over again—the glass dome shattering, the rose falling apart beneath my touch, the exact moment she cursed me with those haunting words:

“The rose is the heart, and the glass is its protection. You’ve broken both. Now you’ll pay with a curse. Everything you love will fade, one petal at a time… until someone dares to bleed for you and mends what was broken.”

Bleeds for me.

Knox Vale just bled for me.

And he fixed my broken heart.

Chapter Forty-One

Knox

Another charity galagraces the evening.

The grand ballroom at the Astoria is its usual brand of opulent chaos—gold chandeliers glittering like captured sunlight, too-loud laughter from people dressed as if they’re auditioning for a magazine cover.

I’m in the center of it all, standing with my family while my father launches into another one of his stories. But my mind isn’t here.

It never is when she’s not beside me.

Isla’s working late at the theatre tonight, but she should be walking through those doors any minute. Every second without her grates on me.

It’s been two months since everything happened—the restaurant debacle, the leak, the board, and Isla’s mom’s surgery.