Page 47 of Blind Devotion

“Does that trouble you?”

“Not really.” She snuggled against me. “You can’t miss what you don’t really know. One advantage to amnesia, I suppose.”

We lay silently for a moment. I could practically hear her thoughts churning.

“Have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, you don’t want to kill me?”

“I will.”

“You haven’t yet.”

“Don’t,” I snarled.

“Is that really so bad?”

“Yes.”

The way that hopeful curve to her mouth fell only flared my anger. I shifted out of the bed so quickly, my head spun.

I could do this with my eyes closed. From within my suit jacket pocket, I retrieved the magazine I had neglected to load into the gun earlier. It clicked loudly into place. The gun rested against that same spot on her forehead I kissed.

“Let this make it clear. You’re nothing but a means to an end.”

“Then do it!” She lifted herself up on her elbows and pressed her head against the barrel. “I’m sick of your threats, Adrien, and feeling like I have to live on a knife’s edge. I’m not going to beg. I’ve got enough pride not to. But you either do it, or you get over it and move on.”

That was the second time she’d said my name tonight. The first hadn’t phased me, but this time, my anger rose.

“How do you know my name?”

“Really? Are you kidding me right now?” she asked, her lips parted. “Your sister called you by it.”

Oh. I deflated quickly, suddenly feeling the fool. I scratched the back of my head with my armed hand. “You’ve never used it.”

“No one does. Not the doctors, nurses, or maids. Didn’t feel appropriate before for me to use it either.”

“And now?”

“I know you better.” Those little soft-spoken words whisked away any lingering anger.

Her hand pressed softly to my cheek, and it took everything in me not to lean into it.

“Why is it so easy for me to talk to you?” she whispered again. “Why do I feel like I can trust you?”

“You can’t.”

“But I do.”

I tossed my head back and forth and jerked back from the bed. Her hand fell between us. “You’re confused. Go back to sleep.”

This time, when I left, I didn’t lock the door, but in the back of my mind, the truth taunted me. Even if I found her rifling through the house and gathering information, I wasn’t sure that would be enough for me to snuff her life out. If anything, I was enjoying our game too much, and that was dangerous.

My thumb lingered over Jerome’s contact on my phone. One call. One order, and our best hitman would come in, silent as a ghost, to tie up my loose end, no questions asked.

I pocketed my phone. I handled my own messes, always had, always would. Tessa was no different. This wasn’t hesitation. I was just being more patient than usual.

Chapter 17

“Wakeup,MademoiselleTessa.”