Page 56 of Bought

There’s a pause that’s comfortable and warm but says the words we’re leaving unsaid.

We crossed a line we can’t uncross.

He kisses me again—this time soft, slow, and sweet.

And I know.

This isn’t just about sex anymore.

It never was.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lucian

She takes my hand in hers, her small fingers brushing over mine, inspecting every scar, as if trying to read my past in the ridges of my skin. I let her, when I haven’t let anyone else.

“Tell me about the girl,” she says quietly. “The one you lost.”

My jaw tightens.

“Why?” I ask, not hiding the edge in my voice.

She shrugs, pretending not to care too much, but I know better. She’s trying to get inside, trying to climb over my walls.

“There must be a reason,” I push.

Her gaze flicks up to meet mine. “I want to know you better.”

Something deep in my chest stirs.

No woman outside our family wants to know me better. They want my money. My power. My name. But she’s different. And that scares the shit out of me.

“Okay,” I say slowly, carefully, like every word is a step into dangerous territory. “What do you want to know about?”

“Well, for starters,” she hesitates, “what was her name?”

“Isobel,” I answer, and the name burns like whiskey. “We called her Izzy.”

She twines her fingers through mine, so fucking tender it almost undoes me. “Isobel. That’s pretty. What was she like?”

“She was pretty. Strong. Funny.” My voice turns flat and distant, edging toward the past. “And then… she was gone.”

I can feel Erin’s curiosity simmering beneath her silence. She wants to know more. I’m not sure if I can give it to her.

“What happened?” she asks, almost a whisper. “How did she die?”

Silence stretches long between us. I don’t want to go there. But she’s looking at me like she sees me.

“Betrayal,” I finally say, the word like poison on my tongue.

“Betrayal?” She flinches, her hand slipping from mine. Is she afraid of the darkness I carry?

It’s too late to stop.

“I was set up,” I continue, my tone going sharp. “Everyone in my gang knew I was receiving a shipment that night on the East River, down by the Harbor. I had my closest men with me, ready to pull the cargo off the ship. We’d load up the trucks, then head to the warehouse on Long Island to store them. We’d done it a dozen times. It was just another night.”

Until it wasn’t.