Page 11

Corbin

I pull out, and she scoots fully onto the bed without saying another word. Her eyes bounce around the room nervously, and I'm not really sure what to do now, which makes things a little awkward. We're apparently good at sex and not so good at the talking bits. Turning on my heels, I go to the bathroom to wash myself off and toss out the condom.

I’m supposed to be mad at her for what she did last year, but being around her makes it so hard.

When I return, she's already dressed and sitting at the edge of the bed while toying with her fingers in her lap. She glances over with a conflicted look, and I can’t stop myself from being an asshole.

"Was that all you came here for?"

"You really think that?" Her eyes droop, and she seems hurt by the accusation, but what am I to believe?

"I’m sorry. I’m just worried you’re going to take off again, and I won’t see you for another year."

"I told you we needed to talk, and I came here to do that. I wasn't planning on..." she trails off and closes her eyes to take a deep breath.

I grab my clothes off the floor, deciding this conversation will probably go better if I'm not the only one naked, and then head toward the living room. "Come on. We can talk out here."

I sit in the chair, giving her the loveseat across the room, and wait for her to tell me whatever prompted her return visit. When her eyes meet mine, there is some sort of faint resolution in them, like she’s reconciling something in her mind.

"When I met you last year, I planned on killing you."

"Yeah, that's not exactly the way to win someone over." I raise a brow.

"Can you just let me say what I need to say? It will be less confusing that way."

"Sure, cupid, have at it." I lean back in the chair and rest one of my ankles on my knee.

"Drew was killed on Valentine's Day. You said it was a hit by The Collection, but I didn't know anything about them. What I experienced was my fiancé being brutally murdered right in front of me by a man shouting about the Seven Deadly Sins."

"Fuck." I let my foot fall to the floor as I lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees.

"The guy stabbed him seven times, and when he was confident Drew was dead, he came after me. Luckily, someone intervened before he could kill me too, but it felt like he took everything from me that day. He even made sure to kill himself before the cops came so there would be no justice. Until I met you, the only thing I had to live for since that day was vengeance."

"What do you mean?"

"That nickname you call me. What if I told you there are other people who call me that, too?"

"Other people like who?" I say curiously. She has my full attention at this point.

"The cops. I'm The Cupid Killer. I've killed someone every year for the last six years, choosing one of them to represent each of the seven deadly sins. Seven sins, seven murders. I promised Drew I would make this city pay for taking his life."

That is not what I expected her to say. My thoughts swirl. There's no way in hell this woman is The Cupid Killer. That doesn't make sense at all. She doesn't look like a killer. I guess people don’t usually look like they kill people, but there's no way this beautiful black-haired, brown-eyed goddess sitting in front of me is a serial killer? She has to be fucking with me, although she did hold a knife to my throat last year. And she did threaten to murder Kyle.

"Nice try," I dismiss her, but she persists.

"Corbin, I'm not kidding."

If she is really who she's claiming to be, she might be the most adorable serial killer out there. I chuckle to myself, deciding to keep that thought in my head because I highly doubt she would want to be called adorable right now.

"Okay, so you kill people. Why would you tell me that? Why confess now if you promised to kill seven? Aren't you worried I might call the cops and have you arrested before you can fulfill your promise?"

"You're not going to call the cops." She seems sure of herself, and I watch with annoyance as a smug grin crosses her face.

"You're sure of that?"

She pushes off the loveseat and crosses the room before slipping onto my lap, straddling me. Her fingers reach out to play with the collar of my shirt as she runs a finger along my jawline before tapping my chin.

"You won't call the cops because you like being a good boy for me." She leans in to whisper in my ear as my cock hardens under her. "Good boys don't call the cops, bagel boy. Good boys do as they're told and then beg for more."

I groan, her words going straight to my dick as she runs her nose along my neck. My hands grip her waist, holding her in place while I try to keep myself under control. With her sitting on me like this, all I can think about is her riding my cock until she screams my name.

There are too many things for us to talk about. We can’t just fall back into the comfort of intimacy. We need to finish this conversation first. She’s right about one thing. I would never call the cops on her because I don't give a fuck that she kills people. My moral compass isn't exactly in a place to judge others, and I kind of like that she's a little broken like me. Maybe our two broken halves will make us whole together.

"I'm not going to call the cops on you, Poppy."

She tries to slide off of me, but I hold her firmly in place. She leans in to press a chaste kiss to my lips, and a thought crosses my mind. She said lust was supposed to be easy before she ran off last year. Why didn't she kill me?

"Why didn't you kill me?"

"I couldn't. You're a good guy. There was no reason for me to kill you." She sighs, closing her eyes for a moment before she looks at me and places her palm against my cheek. "The only other time I've felt a pull this strong toward another person was with Drew. I couldn't kill you because I wanted you, fuck, I still want you, and it scares the shit out of me. That's why I ran off last year. I couldn't face the fact that I ended up captivated by someone I was supposed to kill. It made me feel weak."

"You're not weak, cupid."

"Aren’t I?" She purses her lips. "It doesn't matter. Also, I was serious when I said you lied to me at your sandwich shop. You told me you weren't married, but I did my research, and you were."

This time, I let her slide off my lap. I knew it was only a matter of time before I had to tell her about Rebecca, but I didn't want her to judge me for it. It's not something I'm proud of.

"Her name was Rebecca," I start.

"I know what her name was, and I know that she died. I saw the news article talking about the car accident. What really happened?"

"The Collection happened." I crumple into the chair as my shoulders slouch over. "They wanted her money, so they made sure they got it."

"They killed her?" She raises a brow.

"I never loved Rebecca. I married her because she was assigned to me. It was my duty to The Collection to secure her fortune for their favor. Going against them is a death sentence, as you unfortunately had to learn the hard way when Drew tried to flee to be with you."

I pause, looking over at her tear-filled eyes, and resist the urge to comfort her. That can wait until everything is out on the table and she decides whether or not she wants to risk being with me.

"Rebecca started asking too many questions. It was my fault. She saw my phone and read through a strand of messages from the higher-ups because I fucked up. They were telling me I needed to secure an heir with her to ensure her fortune wouldn't escape their grasp from a technicality if I couldn’t continue to pretend to love her. When she saw the messages, she lost her shit."

I run my hand through my hair, filled with nothing but shame. Rebecca's death has haunted me for years, and this is the first time I've talked about it with anyone. Even when Trent asked, I shut that shit down. It's bringing back harsh memories that cut fucking deep.

"I told her not to, but she used the phone and messaged them, saying I would never secure a child with her and that she was divorcing me. She told them nobody would get a penny of her family’s fortune, so they retaliated."

"They killed her over money," Poppy breathes out, with disgust.

"We lived here together, and she tried to run out of the apartment, but I stopped her. I begged her to let me explain things and told her that if she was willing to keep up the ruse, I would find a way to keep us safe. As long as they thought they were going to get what they wanted, we would have been okay. Just because I wasn't in love with her doesn't mean I didn't care for her. I'm not a monster."

"That's a lot to ask of someone, Corbin. She thought you loved her; of course she would want to get away," Poppy tries to reassure me.

I reach over my head to pull my shirt off and gesture toward my scars. "These are from her. When I wouldn't let her leave, she grabbed a knife from the kitchen and stabbed me. She was in a full-blown panic, screaming about how I was a terrible person. When the first cut didn't take me down, she cut me again and again until she felt safe enough to flee. She didn’t even realize I would have never hurt her.”

Thinking back on everything, I realize it’s kind of a full-circle moment. I had a knife pulled on me by two different women here. Apparently, I have a type, and it’s women who are prone to stabbing.

"The scars are from her?" Her eyes widen.

I know she probably thought The Collection gave them to me, and in a way, they did. Poppy and I both carry scars because of them. The only difference is that mine are visible.

"She was scared, so she reacted. I don't blame her, but The Collection was ready to spring into action as soon they got the message on my phone. Someone was waiting for her outside the apartment. They grabbed her and staged her death to make it look like a car accident."

"If they took people from both of us, I wonder how many others are out there suffering too," she says, and I'm not sure I like the way her mind is processing this information.

"They painted a narrative that someone broke into the house to try and kill me, and Rebecca ran to get away. The cops claimed she was driving erratically, swerving into oncoming traffic. She was hit by a snowplow and killed on impact. I just didn't know it at the time because I was bleeding and being loaded into an ambulance so they could take me to the emergency room."

I run my finger along the bottom scar, letting the painful memories fill me for the first time in years. Rebecca lost her life, and the only thing I did was retire from The Collection, happy to be free of my duty to them. Poppy lost Drew, and she went on to kill people to get vengeance for him. This woman is so much stronger than she gives herself credit for. She's a better person than me, that's for damn sure.