She was beautiful when she slept, her face soft and relaxed. Nothing in her dreams upset her, or at least not since Kit had known her. He liked watching her sleep, watching the varying emotions flit across her face as she slumbered. He found peace in it.

But tonight, despite how long he’d lain beside her, stroking her hair once she had finally passed out, he couldn’t find his peace.

It wasn’t just because of her, but because of everything he hadn’t said.

He hadn’t told her the truth.

He would have, Kit reasoned, had she asked for it, but since she didn’t, he felt no need to confide it.

Like how, exactly, he’d known she was with Agustín Contreras.

And without a doubt, he knew she wouldn’t like his answer.

---

“If you’re so intent on annoying me, feel free to leave,” Kit said, glaring over at Aidra who had yet to stop laughing at the lame joke she had just made.

“Sensitive today, Nix?”

Dropping his pen on the temporary desk until he could get back to his own in New York, Kit turned in the chair to face the one woman he’d been able to stand being around for as long as he had.

Aidra didn’t fear him nor did she have any interest in having sex with him, which made her the best person for her job.

Even if she could be bloody annoying at times.

“Was there something that you wanted? I’m sure Fang is free. Why not go spend time with him?”

“Because I’m enjoying my time with you. Besides, I’d told you before that it wouldn’t be smart to send a girl flowers a month after she tells you to stay away, hadn’t I?” She plucked an invisible piece of lint off the pencil skirt she wore, looking far too satisfied with herself for his taste. “But you see what happens when you stop following your own pig-headed advice and follow mine? Look at the progress we’ve made.”

It had been Aidra’s suggestion that Kit take Luna to marriage counseling. At first, he’d balked at the suggestion, not liking the idea of anyone, even Donna Marie, who was privy to many of his secrets, knowing about his personal life.

For many reasons, Luna was off-limits.

And before the session, he had been sure he would find a solution to the problem without anyone’s aid. It was what he was good at.

At least until Luna showed him that he wasn’t.

Even Kit cringed at the memory of the flowers he’d sent with a little note that said, ‘Forgive me.’ He’d wanted to get her attention, to get her to react—anything but the silent treatment that was threatening to do his head in.

But he hadn’t stopped at flowers, not even close.

If he tried to call, she had her number changed.

If he sought her out in person, she moved.

It was a vicious cycle he’d willingly succumbed to because … well, what had been the alternative? Let her walk away?

Watch as she slowly erased him from every part of her life until he no longer mattered to her?

Even the thought made his hand twitch.

By the end, Kit had been running low on options.

Until New York.

Until she had walked into his restaurant with all the bravado in the world and sat across from him to ask a favor.

One kiss was all it had taken to prove that all hadn’t been lost.

And despite what he thought he knew, Kit ultimately agreed to Aidra’s suggestion. It had taken a mere week to set it up, and less than a week to get Luna to agree to attend, albeit grudgingly.

In all of his years, that had been the single best decision he had ever made—besides marrying her, of course.

Aidra didn’t want him to forget it.

“I’m just saying,” Aidra went on, oblivious to his souring mood—or just not caring. “I deserve a raise.”

“Fine,” Kit agreed.

Even if he weren’t currently trying to get her to stop speaking, he wouldn’t ever say she wasn’t worth what he paid her, or more.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, I’m taking your advice and going to see Fang. See to it that you don’t get into too much trouble while I’m away.”

Kit leveled her with a flat stare. “I’ll try my best.”

Gathering her things, Aidra came over to kiss his cheek before disappearing out of the penthouse apartment.

He was sitting, staring out the floor-length windows when he heard the elevator beep once more.

Without looking back, he asked, “Forget something?”

“On the contrary.”

Kit didn’t think anyone had a voice that made him want to commit murder more than Ariana Rivera.

Well, maybe her mother, once he thought about it.

All the same, he had to swallow his disgust as he turned, watching her walk toward him wearing a tan trench coat belted too tight.

The sight of her like that made his stomach turn. Once, during an assignment in Milan, Luna had surprised him wearing something similar and nothing beneath it.

Kit prayed Aidra was actually wearing clothes.

“I don’t recall giving you a key,” Kit said politely, keeping careful control of his temper—a constant job since he’d been forced to be around her.

“You didn’t, but I have a few friends of my own, you know.”

Then someone was asking to die—painfully.

“What d’you want, Ariana? I’m not in the mood for you.”

No one would dare talk to her like that without fear of repercussions, but Kit didn’t know such fear. And for whatever reason, this didn’t deter her from continuously seeking him out.

Like a fucking bloodsucking gnat.

“Aw,” she pouted, resting her hip against the edge of his desk. “I’m always in the mood for you, Nix. Will you ever tell me your real name?”

“Not even if my life depended on it.”

Ariana was a brat, one used to getting her way, and if she didn’t, she threw a tantrum until someone, anyone, gave her what she wanted.

Kit was not so weak.

“Is it another woman?” Ariana asked. She pushed the papers and documents to the side as she sat, making a show of crossing her legs.

Kit turned to the side—he would never give someone like her his back—and pushed away from the desk, putting more distance between them.

“Despite what you may believe,” he said, still looking out those windows, “I don’t wear this ring for show.”

“Then where is she?” Ariana asked, a new edge to her voice. “I’d like to meet the woman worthy of you. I know if I had a man like you, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.”

She probably truly believed that, but Kit had known plenty of women like her and knew that she would never be happy with just one man.

She craved what she couldn’t have.

She wanted to be desired by everyone.

Her biggest flaw, and her biggest weakness.

Ignoring her comment, he asked, “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you. It’s been too long since we got to be alone together, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t.”

It baffled him that she remained undeterred despite his words.

“Are you always this rude?” she asked with a light laugh.

“Tell me about your sister,” he said suddenly, knowing he would catch her off guard.

After all, no one was supposed to know there had been another daughter.

Like a switch had been turned on inside her, her face twisted into a grimace, her eyes narrowing on him slightly. She was smart enough not to ask how he knew about Luna.

It wouldn’t take much of a guess, though—she knew he was in the business of information if nothing else.

“Why?” she asked, layering as much contempt into that one word as she was capable.

“I’m curious.”

“About her?”

He would always be curious about his Luna. “What was she like?”

In the beginning, they had spent many nights talking about her life before Lawrence Kendall, of a childhood spent free from harm.

She always got a lingering sort of smile on her face when she talked about her home, about Blanco, and the family she had missed.

“A needy, whining brat,” Ariana said, her words breaking into his thoughts. “She was always whining and begging for attention.”

“From you?” Kit asked, now turning to face her.

She looked at him then, her mouth parting just a little, as though his tone had caught her off guard. Ariana was more a nuisance than anything, but if she didn’t mind her words, he was liable to act without thought.

“From everyone. Even when she wasn’t following me around like a lost puppy, she was forced on me because my father thought we should bond.” She rolled her eyes, as though the idea of that was absurd. “We had nothing in common. He thought the world of her, would give her anything she wanted, but if I even asked for something as little as a new pair of jeans, he always took issue.”

Daddy issues.

Made sense.

“Sounds terrible,” Kit said dryly.

Ariana studied her nails. “In the end, though, she got what she deserved. I always win in the end.”

The words made Kit bristle, but he was careful not to show that. It was understandable why Carmen was the main target, but Ariana had always been an attachment to her.

It had never been about her, but now Kit was curious about how much she knew about the decision to give Luna over to Uilleam in the first place.

“Drink?” Kit asked suddenly, gesturing to the bar on the other side of the room.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Going over, she poured a tumbler full of vodka, putting far too much sway in her hips as she walked back over.

“What d’you know of your mother’s agreement with the Kingmaker?”

Ariana swallowed hard. “No one is supposed to know about that.”

“But I do, so tell me anyway.”

Eyes on the glass in her hand, Ariana shrugged. “He could give her … this, but she had to give one of us up. It obviously had to be my sister. I was the oldest, and I was willing to do whatever she wanted. Luna was never like that.”

“And that warranted her death?” Kit asked, his voice tight as he resisted the urge to reach for a knife.

How easy it would be to sever her carotid before she could think to save herself.

“Better her than me,” she said, finishing off her drink. “She’s not missed, I assure you.”

“Is that so?”

She trailed her fingers down her throat, gently pulling at the halves of her coat. “Definitely.”

“D’you consider this a game?” Kit asked before she could get too far, though he already knew her answer.

This, all of it, was only a game to her—something she was trying to win. Which was why she didn’t see the murder—or attempted murder, as it were—as anything more than a lucky break.

That was his biggest issue with Uilleam.

Too often, he manipulated lives as he saw fit, ‘Playing the game,’ as he always said.

“What do you mean? I didn’t say—”

“You said she got what she deserved, no?” Kit asked. “That you won. You must think it’s a game.”

Standing up, he crossed the floor to her, close enough now that he could see the anxiety building on her face.

“But tell me, who’s really won? Perhaps it’s the sister spared the life your mother provides you.”

Her cheeks mottled with red, Ariana held her head higher, as though she meant to seem taller than she was. “I have everything I could possibly want.”

“Do you? I only see a shell of a woman whoring herself to please her mother. How many men have you spread your legs for in a bid to get your mother more power? I wager that you didn’t even want to marry Agustín, did you? She couldn’t wait to offer you, someone who means so little to her, to someone who she knew would never love you and might even kill you should the mood strike him.” Kit shook his head, tsking at her. “Pathetic.”

The arousal that had been so apparent in her eyes was now gone as she glared at him. The hatred she felt, not just for him at that moment, but for her mother as well, shined through.

“Fuck you.”

“But that’s what you want, isn’t it? I could tell you to get on your knees right now, and you’d drop like a bitch in heat. All because of the mother, the woman you seem to admire the most, trained you as well as she trained the girls she traffics. I might have felt sympathy for you, but I can’t. Would you like to know why?”

Ariana ground her jaw, but grudgingly asked, “Why?”

“Because you’re a cunt, and I can’t stand the sight of you.” He was unmoved when she flinched, and had she thought she could hit him and there be no consequence, she might have done so. “Now, run along home to your fiancé.”

“He’s not home,” she said, as though that would mean anything to him. “He’s out with someone else.”

Kit didn’t even blink. “D’you need me to call for a car?”

Trying to maintain what little pride she had left, Ariana got to her feet, smoothing the front of her coat. “I’m going to make sure you regret this.”

“I look forward your attempts but understand something, Ariana, the moment you threaten me, I’ll end your life.”

Lips pressed into a thin line, Ariana left without another word, leaving Kit to wonder who Agustín was out with.

---

Ultimately, his curiosity had gotten the best of him, and he’d sent his feelers out to find out whom Agustín was romancing when he was meant to be keeping his nose clean until negotiations with Carmen were complete.

While they all might have known that Agustín had no interest in Ariana, each of them were experts at pretending.

Kit was the best of them.

But not once, in the short half hour it had taken for him to get the information he sought, did he expect that the woman Agustín was with was Luna.

His fucking wife.

Slipping out of bed, Kit quietly exited the room, going out to pour himself a drink. At this rate, he would soon be drinking himself into a coma.

In the grand scheme of things, it shouldn’t have mattered anymore. He should have been pleased after the hours he’d spent having her beg and moan and scream, but while his mood had temporarily lightened after he’d exhausted her, the reality of the matter had quickly reared its head again.

The second he knew was Luna in that restaurant, he’d gotten a feed of the restaurant, and the video surveillance only made his anger quicken. He’d had to resist the urge to wring her pretty little neck.

She had played with dangerous emotions, and after being with her, hearing the truth from her lips, he had learned that had been her intention all along.

Luna wanted his attention.

She wanted him to react.

So react he had.

Even when she hadn’t wanted him and did her very best to push him away, there had never been a part of him that hadn’t wanted her. She was it for him.

Hadn’t he shown her that?

Hadn’t he shown her the weight of his sorrow as he did everything in his power to plead forgiveness?

Had something been lost in translation?

Gripping the glass so tightly he feared he would shatter the glass, Kit set it down and returned to the bedroom, trying to calm himself.

Finding his trousers on the floor, he dug through the pockets until he found his phone, the brightness of the screen illuminating the room, and the bag Luna had left abandoned on the floor.

She had been too focused on him to care about dropping it on the floor, or everything that was inside of it spilling out.

He crouched, gathering it all, dropping it down onto the dresser, until he got to the neatly folded papers.

Kit wasn’t one to pry—he would much prefer to hear whatever it was from her own lips, but with the mood he was in, he didn’t give it a second thought before unfolding them and scanning over them.

His mother had always taught him to never seek what wasn’t freely offered, lest what you find is not what you want.

As his fingers dug into those pages, he wished he had never fucking looked.