Page 22 of Ruthless Touch

I scramble to shove down my t-shirt, tugging the hem as far as it’ll go. The damage is done; Priscilla saw exactly what I was examining in the mirror.

The bright smile on her face slides off and her eyes double in size. “Wait, hold on. Is that a bruise? Eli, that looks serious! Oh my god, did somebody attack you? Was it some creep? A mugger? You need to file a police report. Or… I don’t know… go to the embassy or something!”

I turn away from the standing mirror and crack a wry smile. “No one attacked me, Cilla. I’m not starring in a Korean true crime doc. Promise.”

“But… but… where did it come from? Was this last night when you went out clubbing? KD said we should’ve gone with you!”

“For what?” I ask with an amused snort. “You should see the other guy. Kidding… mostly. I’mfine, Cilla. And how many times do I have to tell you? Knock before coming in. This is my room, remember?”

She casts her gaze downward, a sudden guiltiness about her. “I was just really excited about this milk tea.”

I step toward her, sliding one of the mugs out of her hand and taking a sip. “Mmm, delicious. And you even used your favorite Pucca mug. Thanks.”

Pricilla’s concern has gone nowhere as I attempt to change the subject to the milk tea.

It’s rough, because few things can guilt trip faster than a pouty Priscilla. Even as her roommate and quasi-friend, I can see how she has KD wrapped around her little finger.

One frown from her paired with sad eyes and her signature afro puffs and you’re desperate to bring the smiley bubbliness back.

But I ignore the concerned look on her face as I sip more of the milk tea and then mention I’ll be gone most of the day.

“Meetings and training stuff,” I answer when she asks. “KD should be by any second. At least I won’t be suffering alone.”

“He already texted me. He’s riding the underground here.”

She eventually turns and walks out, her once bright mood nowhere to be found.

A knot of guilt settles in my chest watching her go.

Priscilla has been nothing but a kind and bubbly roommate. She did her best to make sure I settled in when I first moved here and she’s made it no secret she considers us friends.

The problem is, I don’t really do relationships. I don’t really havefriends.

If there’s been one reoccurring theme in my life, it’s been that I have no one else to rely on except me, myself, and I.

Trust is so fragile that other people aren’t deserving of it. It’s better to keep everyone at arm’s length.

The only people I’ve ever been able to remotely rely on have been Dad and Uncle Jerald—and Dad’s dead.

I don’t know where to begin eventryingto be a friend to Priscilla. I’ve spent so many years obsessed with getting justice for Dad that I’m not sure what I’ll do once it’s all said and done.

Once I get my revenge against the Cheongryong syndicate and the man who killed him.

My mind drifts back to last night, where I’d seduced Rhee Gun-woo and almost accomplished part of that mission. He was right where I wanted him until I got too bold and he spotted the knife in the mirror.

I sigh, fingering Dad’s ring that I wear as a necklace.

Gunwascharming and funny. He was sexy, and I have to be honest, he was almost good enough to make me forget what I was doing in the first place.

There were moments I forgot he was my target. Forgot I was supposed to be killing him.

The dance we shared at Eclipse pulsed with sexual chemistry. He proved to be an even better kisser.

Is that why I failed so damn bad when seduction kills are normally one of my specialties? Was I getting too caught up in my attraction to him?

I can still feel his touch. My sore and bruised ribs ache, but so do other parts of me.

His tongue on my titties…