The rain had slowed to a drizzle, so I walked half an hour back to my borrowed apartment at St. Mark’s Roman Catholic Church, needing the cool air and the walk to work through what had happened tonight.

Lina Guardia, who should have been studying in a school in Chicago, was living in a very nice apartment in Greenwich Village that her boss owned—free of charge—and working as a pianist in an eclectic club with an illicit reputation.

She was also going by the name Kat, which she explained as being her own name, and although that was true, it fit about as well as her boss letting her live for free in his apartment.

Not to mention the fact that she’d been lying to her sister about where she’d been for over a year.

The moment I got to my apartment, I took off my coat and gloves and booted up my laptop. First thing I did was google Club Carmen. That was when things went downhill. I guess I expected them to, because I had a hunch she was lying about school too. She wouldn’t have failed. That was too outrageous.

But first, Club Carmen.

Owned by Alexi Markov, son of the infamous Sergei Markov, who currently sat behind bars in a federal prison awaiting trial on charges of racketeering, extortion, money laundering, and murder.

Nice guy.

His son, who from newspaper accounts was as close to his father as any mob family could be, apparently had his sights on taking over the family business once his father was locked up for good.

The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.

Club Carmen wasn’t under investigation. At least when they’d initially looked into it. The feds had found nothing to link it to Sergei’s dealings, although it was fishy that it changed hands the day of Sergei’s arrest. And not finding something didn’t mean there wasn’t anything to find.

Question was, how much did Lina know about her employer?

I shut down my laptop and rubbed my face. It was three in the morning. Too late to get anything done. I considered calling Raphael. It would be nine o’clock in Italy. But I didn’t want to do that just yet. My reasons for that were purely selfish, though. I wanted Lina for myself for a little bit. As wrong as I knew it was, I wanted it, and I wouldn’t deny that truth. Wanting it was bad enough. I wouldn’t lie to myself about it.

Stripping off my clothes, I took a shower then got into bed, setting the alarm for eight. I needed to figure out how to handle this with her. If I didn’t do this right, if she thought for one moment I was attacking her, she’d shut down. She’d shut me out. I couldn’t afford that. And I had a feeling she couldn’t either.

* * *

I rang Lina’s doorbell at a little after seven the next evening. Instead of buzzing me up, she quickly appeared, her coat half on as she walked out of the building, giving me a glimpse of the ripped jeans and tight-fitting white shirt with gold block lettering across her chest. She stopped to button her coat then turned her face up to mine, smiling.

“Where to?”

She looked beautiful, her hair hanging in long waves, her face dewy, her glossy lips fuller than I remembered them. I cleared my throat. “I heard about this Middle Eastern place,” I said, leading her toward the waiting taxi. “It’s not too far and is supposed to be pretty good.”

“I love Middle Eastern.”

Her high heels clicked as she descended the steps and climbed into the taxi, her mood much lighter than it had been last night, even if she did seem in a hurry to get away from her apartment.

I followed her into the taxi and gave the driver the address. Lina punched something into her phone then dropped it into her purse and turned to me.

“What do you do when you’re not working?” I asked.

“I have a couple of kids I teach piano to. Little kids, I mean. I think their parents just enjoy having me to babysit really, but I don’t mind. It’s fun, and the kids are nice. Other than that,” she shrugged a shoulder, “not much, I guess.” She hesitated. “Friends of mine have a band, and I sometimes play with them. You know, if it works out with their practices or gigs.”

“A band?”

She nodded, seeming almost embarrassed. “Just some friends I met at a bar.”

I wondered how she got into bars at twenty but didn’t pursue it. We reached the restaurant. I paid the driver, got out, and helped Lina exit the cab. It was hard to not think of this as a date, especially when, as we walked into the noisy café and she took off her coat and hung it over her arm, every eye in the place turned to her. I wasn’t surprised. Lina was beautiful but dressed like she was in knee-length, high-heeled black boots, a pair of ripped jeans that hugged her ass and thighs, and a shirt with only one sleeve that left her tattooed shoulder and arm exposed, she was striking.

After handing our coats to the girl behind the coat check, I set one hand at her lower back, fingers curling around her waist, knowing how possessive my action would feel, would appear, but not caring. I couldn’t stand the thought of others looking at her. And they were looking as we followed the hostess to a booth at the far back, close to the band sitting on cushions and playing Middle-Eastern music on a low stage.

If Lina thought how I held her was strange, she didn’t say so. She only gave me a hooded glance but didn’t pull away. In fact, she seemed to stand closer. Maybe liking it. Because on some level, as wrong as it was, I liked it too.

We sat down, and when the waitress came, ordered drinks—a Coke for her and a beer for me—as well as some appetizers. She turned to me.

“This is great. I love the music.”

I smiled, so many thoughts circling inside my head. “It’s really good to see you again, Lina.”

“You too, Damon.”

An awkward silence descended between us until the waitress returned with our drinks and appetizers. Lina picked up a piece of pita bread, dipped it into the hummus, and bit off a chunk.

“I’m starving.”

I watched her choose a second triangle of bread and followed her lead.

She read the menu as she absently picked up one of the meatball appetizers and popped it into her mouth. All I could do was look at her, study her every move, memorize her every feature as if her being absent for the last two years had meant more than it had. More than it could.

I cleared my throat. “Do you know what you’d like for dinner?”

“I think the kebabs. Or the falafel. I can’t decide. You?” she asked, turning to me.

The waitress came by before I could answer, and I glanced at Lina. “She’ll have the kebabs and a side order of falafel, and I’ll have the lamb chops.”

Once the waitress left, Lina picked up her Coke and turned to me. “I’m going to look like a pig when my plate comes.”

I shrugged a shoulder. “You can stand to eat.”

She picked up another meatball. “So you live here now? Where exactly?”

“About half an hour’s walk from your place at one of the two apartments at St. Mark’s Church. One is used by the parish priest, Father Leonard, and the other has been empty for a few months, so I’m using it while I’m here.”

“Do you…” her forehead wrinkled. “Say mass?”

“I can’t say Mass, but I can give sermons and just help out a little.”

“What happens when the six months are up? Are you a priest then? Ordained?”

“It depends. I could be.” How did I explain what I was feeling? What I was thinking?

“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it. I just haven’t, that’s all. I guess I’m doing a little bit of what I accused you of last night. Burying my head in the sand.” I knew I’d have to gain her trust to get her to talk to me, to tell me what was going on, and if that meant I went first, then I’d do that. “I guess the best way to say this is that this is my last opportunity to say no. To decide I don’t want this.”

“Is that why you’re here? In New York City?”

“Partially, I guess. I’m also working to secure funding for the seminary.”

“Are you having doubts?”

I couldn’t answer that. I didn’t want to, because I didn’t want to say it out loud. “Things changed after Raphael came home. In a way, back when I first entered seminary, it was a safe place. But I realized soon enough it was a way for me to run away from everything, from all the shit that happened to my family.” Her shoulders slumped, and she glanced away for a moment, but I went on. “I don’t know how much you know about Raphael or our father or what he did to us. To him.”

“Just tell me everything.”

“From a very young age, I remember feeling like our father had a special hatred for him. Not for me. Not for Zach. Just Raphael. I didn’t understand it, because we were twins. Identical, at least physically. Although Raphael grew faster than me. Throughout our teenage years, he was a little bigger. But maybe that was because he was always fighting too. At school or with cousins or friends. It was almost like his anger made him harder. I always wonder if that anger was what made our father hate him, turn on him like he did, or if his hatred of Raphael made Raphael so angry. So hard.”

“The chicken and the egg.”

“Which came first?”

“Please go on.”

It took me a minute. I’d never said this out loud. “Our father beat Raphael. He didn’t touch Zach or me, but he’d whip Raphael—often until he bled. Sometimes longer than that. I watched it happen a few times. When our father threatened me, Raphael would step in. I always wondered if father did that on purpose. If he knew that, no matter what, Raphael would take the beating.”

“I knew he was abusive, but I didn’t know that. He was sick.”

“Despicable, actually. My mother was a devout Catholic. Forgiveness is divine—or it was to her. Maybe I wanted it to be for me too. I try to think that everyone has dark and light inside them, good and evil, but my father?” I shook my head. “His soul was as black as Satan’s.”

After clearing our appetizers, the waitress returned with our meals, giving me a few minutes to think. I had never talked about this. Most people didn’t ask.

“After the fire, when Raphael went to prison, I became guardian of our younger brother, Zach, who was sixteen at the time. The house went to Raphael, since he was firstborn—”

“You’re twins.”

I smiled. “He has a few minutes on me.” I watched her smile. “Zach and I lived in it with Maria, who’d been our cook and nanny ever since I could remember. The memories in that place, Lina, they haunted me. My parents were dead. My brother was in prison. And the past clung to the very walls in that house. After a while, I couldn’t breathe. The one thing that gave me solace was the chapel. I’d go there often, just sit in a pew and listen to the silence, try to make sense of everything. I guess that’s when I decided I should become a priest. It was a selfish decision made purely with myself in mind. I didn’t care about helping anyone else. I just wanted to… No, I needed to get out of my head. The church made me feel closer to my mother, and in a way, that was sanity. It gave me direction and routine and gave me something to think about that wasn’t me or my past or what happened to the Amado family.”

“So you were running away.”

“Yes.”

“And the dean sent you away to figure out if the priesthood is what you really want?”

“I guess he did, in a way.”

“I think it’s normal to question such a big decision. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“I’m not beating myself up. It’s just that the moment I feel like I’ve made up my mind, something comes along to make me question.”

Or someone.

She bit on a piece of falafel, studying me. “I thought it was a waste anyway,” she said, then turned her attention to her plate.

“What do you mean?”

“Damon, look at you. Every woman in this place—and some of the men too—turned to look when we walked to our table.”

“Lina.” I shook my head at her naivety. “It was you they were looking it. Not me.” I gave her a wink.

She blushed and glanced away for a moment.

“Besides, that doesn’t matter.”

When she returned her gaze to mine, her eyes had grown serious.

“So you have six months to figure out your life?”

“It looks that way.”

“What do you want?”

“My six months aren’t up yet,” I said, taking my last sip of beer, glad I’d already put my glass down when she next spoke, abruptly changing the subject.

“I was the one who turned over the evidence that put my grandfather away.”

I studied her as she focused on her plate, pushing her food around. I guess we were being honest. “I know.”

“There’s one thing I didn’t tell Sofia, though. One thing I didn’t tell anyone.” She finally looked up at me. “They thought I told them everything.”

She paused, then gave a nervous giggle. Her face darkened almost in the same instant.

“I probably could go to jail for it.”

“What’s the one thing?” I asked, everything growing much more serious.

Her eyes and the tip of her nose reddened, and she shook her head. “I’m going to explode if I eat one more bite, Damon.”

I looked at her plate, which was nearly empty. “You made an impressive dent. Would you like dessert?”

She shook her head. “Let’s get out of here. I want to take you somewhere. If you want to, I mean. That band I told you about is playing tonight. Would you like to see them? They’re really great, and the location is…special.”

“I’d love to, actually.”

I signaled for the waitress to bring the check, and once I’d paid, we got our coats. I helped Lina into hers, studying the details of her exposed tattoos without being observed by her, wanting hours to do so. Once outside, I went to hail a taxi, but she stopped me with a hand on my arm.

“Let’s walk. It’s only about twenty minutes, and it’s not raining or snowing for a change.”

“Okay. Lead the way.”

She tucked her arm into mine, and I covered her hand with my own as we walked, the night air cold against our faces. We didn’t speak and, about twenty minutes later, we came upon an old church tucked between two large buildings.

She slipped her arm from mine. I looked at the building, then at her.

“It’s called Redemption,” she said. “Obviously, it was a church once. Is that going to be weird for you?”

I smiled. “No. Not weird. I’m intrigued.”

Taking my hand, she led me to the large double doors where a bouncer sat outside. I wondered how she was going to get in since she was underage, but she smiled at the man, who called her by name and looked me over from head to toe as she hugged him.

“Kat, it’s good to see you,” he said, turning his attention to her.

“It’s good to see you, R.J. This is my…brother-in-law, Damon.”

“Brother-in-law, huh?”

“My sister is married to his brother.”

R.J. took a minute, then extended his hand. “Good to meet you, man.”

“Good to meet you.”

“Go on in. It’s busy tonight.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking my hand again to lead me inside. We checked our coats with a girl in the foyer and headed inside.

The church was small, fitting maybe a hundred and fifty or two-hundred people, and each of the four corners were arched. The stained-glass windows were still in place, and incense scented the air. That took me back, always. Two long bars stood at opposite ends, and a stage had been erected against the far wall. Music played, and people danced or stood around in groups talking and drinking. Wooden stools were the only seats in the place, which was as opposite to Club Carmen in feel, sound, and sight, as you could possibly get.

“Want a drink?” she asked as we reached the bar. She was still tentative, perhaps knowing the ice she walked on was thin. She’d need to come clean with me at some point.

The bartender wiped his hands on a towel and approached her with a smile.

“Kat. It’s been a few weeks.”

“I’ve been working, Shawn,” she said, making a face.

“I keep telling you that you should quit that uptight place and come work for me.”

She smiled and turned to introduce me. “This is my friend, Damon. Damon, this is Shawn.”

The bartender nodded. “Usual for you, Kat?” he asked.

“Please.”

“What’ll you have, friend of Kat?” he asked me.

“A beer.” I named one he had on tap.

A few moments later, we had our drinks. Lina snagged a stool, leaned her back against the bar, and watched the empty stage as she sipped from a straw.

“What are you drinking?” I asked when she caught me staring at her.

“Just a Coke. Don’t worry, Shawn won’t serve me alcohol until I’m twenty-one.”

“I wasn’t worried, just curious. This isn’t…running into you here, this whole thing, it’s just not what I would ever have expected from you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Just…I’m glad I ran into you, that’s all.”

“When are you going to spring your questions on me?”

“I’m not.” That seemed to surprise her.

“Why not?”

“You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

“What if I’m not ever ready?”

I tilted my head to the side and gave a shrug. We’d cross that bridge later.

“This is a change from last night,” she said.

“I was unprepared for last night.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Silence. We didn’t break eye contact. “You look good, Lina. The tattoos, I like them. It’s you, if that makes sense.”

“Thanks for saying that. It is me. It’s maybe the only thing that’s me right now.”

She smiled, a flush of pink warming her cheeks as sadness darkened her eyes.

“What do you think my sister will think when she sees?”

“Are you worried about that?”

She considered her half-full glass. “I try not to think about it, honestly. I know it’s stupid. I mean, I can’t hide out forever.”

“Why do you feel like you have to hide out at all? You’re an adult, and she’s a reasonable person. Just tell her the truth.”

“It’s complicated, Damon.”

I watched her as she spoke, saw how her eyes reddened again, growing moist with tears.

“I have one question. Just one.”

“Okay,” she said, although with hesitance.

“Are you in trouble, Lina?”

She was saved before she had to respond when a group of three came toward her calling out her name, the girl with the pink hair falling into Lina as she hugged her. I stood back and watched, saw how the men smiled but hung back. Shawn handed the girl a drink and gave her a wink.

“It’s so good to see you, Jana. I love the pink.” Lina touched the girl’s long hot-pink hair.

“Better than the green?”

“I loved the green too.” Jana glanced at me, a large smile spreading across her face. Lina touched my hand. “This is Damon.”

No my brother-in-law or my friend. I was just Damon.

“Damon, this is Jana, my absolute best friend. She’s the singer of the band I was telling you about. She and Shawn are engaged to be married. And these two are Jace and Benji.”

“Nice to meet you all. I’ve heard great things.” I shook hands with them.

“Really nice to meet you, Damon. It’s about time Kat brought someone with her.”

Jana gave me a nudge, then returned her attention to Lina and took her hands.

“You’re playing a couple of songs with us, right?”

Lina’s smile widened, and her eyes sparkled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Come on,” Jana pulled Lina off her stool.

Lina tuned to me. “Do you mind?”

“No, please go ahead. I’d love to hear you play myself.”

A moment later, I took the stool Lina had vacated and ordered another beer as the band walked up onto the stage. Lina took a seat behind the beat-up-looking piano and gave me a wave. Jana introduced the band and mentioned Lina, aka Kat, and they began to play.

I would probably describe the music as punk with the piano accompaniment adding a touch of something darker, something almost gothic, different than the classical she’d played at Club Carmen. I watched her, studied her face, saw her severe concentration, her intensity. She played with a passion that carried into her music, displaying her pain for anyone who cared to notice. That was what I’d heard the first time I’d come into Club Carmen. Heartbreak. The music she made sounded like a heartbreak. And for reasons I couldn’t explain, I wanted to hear her make a different kind of music. I wanted to take that heartbreak away.

Here, with this band, though, it was different. It was heavy, the darkness she carried around with her, but in a way, it fit. Like the tattoos. Like this place. Like her music.

“She’s very talented,” Shawn, the bartender, said.

I turned to find him studying me before returning his attention to wiping down the counter.

“She is that.”

“Special kid.”

I felt like he was making some point. I faced him squarely. “I’ve known Li…Kat since she was sixteen. I know how special she is. I’m glad to see she has friends here looking out for her.” What did I want to say? That I wasn’t one of the wolves in sheep’s clothing that he need look out for? Because ever since last night, I hadn’t been able to get her out of my mind. And I’d be a liar if I said my thoughts were wholly pure.

Hell, maybe he was right to question me.

To warn me.

The music changed then, and the lights on stage focused on Lina. The rest of the band took a background role as she began to play Coldplay’s “Viva la Vida”, only this version was a thousand times more intense as she pounded the keys, her face tight, her focus unbreakable. When she finished, there was one single moment of silence before the crowd broke into cheers. Lina gave a faint smile and turned to me. When she did, I saw how her eyes glistened, how they looked at me with an unfathomable emotion. Something full of longing.

Jana came around the piano, breaking our locked gaze to hug Lina. I set my glass on the bar and caught the bartender watching me. Scrutinizing me, maybe. He hadn’t missed the exchange between Lina and me.

The band took a break. Lina came toward me as dance music pulsed around the bar. She took the Coke the bartender set in front of her, complimenting her. She blushed, obviously uncomfortable with the attention. I watched her, took in her flushed face, the little bit of sweat that dampened her forehead. She set her glass down and took my arm.

“Dance with me.”

She began to pull me toward the crowd of dancers jumping and pulsing en masse. I shook my head. “You go ahead,” I said, not wanting to dance but wanting to watch her dance. Wanting nothing else in that moment.

She tugged again, her gaze falling on Jana, who waved her over from the dance floor.

“Go,” I urged.

“Sure?”

I could barely hear her over the music, so I nodded. She went. I watched her on the dance floor, her body as if it were made for dancing. Hips swaying, her every move sensual, erotic even. Charged. It was strange. Almost like watching a rare, wild animal suddenly uncaged.

Her hair whipped around her, and although she danced with Jana, men circled her like wolves. As I watched, my hand tightened around my drink and my gaze grew hard, almost as if I was willing her to me.

It took all I had not to drag her away from within the circle of men that formed around them, and the moment I realized she was aware of it, of her power, it took me back. She turned away from Jana to dance with one man, then another, but all the while she did, she watched me. Her gaze never left mine. When one of the jerks wrapped his hands around her hips and drew her close, I set my drink down on the bar, beer splashing my fingers. I walked over to them, not caring that I stood like a brick wall on the dance floor, my gaze burning into hers.

I gripped the guy’s arm.

They stopped dancing, both of them turning to me.

“Leave,” I said to him.

“What? No, man, we’re dancing.”

I never took my eyes off her. “I said leave.”

“Fuck, dude, chill.”

I dragged my gaze from her to him. I don’t know what he saw in my eyes, but he released her instantly and stepped back. I didn’t care about him, though. I didn’t care about any of them. I only cared about her. And right now, I wanted to hold her, but not only to have her close.

No.

She woke something inside me that left me feeling out of control. That had my heart beating fast, that made blood pump hard through my veins.

I wanted it known that she was mine. That no man should touch her. Should even look at her. I felt…possessive.

Obsessive.

I took her arm, suddenly angry.

Angry with her.

Angry with her for what she made me feel.

She gave me a sly smile, and I tugged her close, her chest against mine, and wrapped my other hand around her waist.

“You like it,” I said.

“What?”

“You like them looking at you.” Her eyes searched mine. “Don’t you?”

“What?”

She blinked fast, confirming my thoughts.

“You like your power over them.”

She didn’t deny it but placed one hand on my shoulder, the other on my bicep. She shifted her gaze to that hand, and I felt her squeeze, felt her fingers trail upward over my shoulder toward my neck, where she touched the stubble on my jaw.

“What do you want, Damon?”

Despite the loud music, I heard her clearly.

“Lina—”

“What do you want right now? If nothing else mattered, what would you want right this second?”

I held her tighter. She was so close, I could smell her, smell the fading scent of something feminine and pretty and—fuck me—erotic. She wanted to know what I wanted? She knew already. I could see it in her eyes, feel it as she pressed the hardened nipples of her breasts against my chest.

I knew perfectly well what I wanted. I knew it as well as I knew what she wanted.

But there was one difference between us.

I knew what was allowed.

And I knew better what was forbidden.

She leaned toward me and touched her face to mine, rubbing soft skin against rough stubble, wrapping her hands around my neck.

“What do you want, Damon?” she whispered, her voice sultry, her breath warm against my ear.

I swallowed, looking down at her, down at her nipples tight and dark under the snug white shirt, her eyes wide, seductive, seducing. Her mouth. Fuck. Her mouth.

Abruptly, I shook my head and took hold of her wrists, drawing them away, holding them tight, too tight. “What are you doing?”

Her smile faded, something akin to fear momentarily passing across her eyes. She looked away, and when I loosened my grip, she stepped out of my embrace, then ran a hand through her hair, her eyes meeting mine only briefly before she answered.

“Nothing.”

“I’ll take you home,” I said, my tone stiff, the words sounding awkward.

She didn’t look at me, didn’t resist, but turned to say a hurried good-bye to Jana. I noticed how she didn’t quite look at the girl. Saw how her eyes glistened. I waited for her, then kept one hand at her lower back as I walked her toward the foyer and got our coats. She didn’t say anything but let me help her slip hers on. I watched her as she buttoned it up and I put mine on, noticing how she refused to look at me.

I knew she felt embarrassed. I’d embarrassed her.

“Lina,” I said, grabbing her arm when she walked ahead of me once we were out on the street.

“Don’t.”

She tugged free, and I let her go, hailing the next taxi that came. Without speaking, she climbed inside. I followed and gave the driver her address. We didn’t talk for the entire ride. And when we got back to her place, she climbed out, her attention on digging her keys out of her purse.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said as she started climbing up the stairs of the brownstone.

“Lina, wait—”

She stopped on the second step, turned, and faced me. “Why? What for?”

“I want to talk.”

“I’m tired, Damon.”

Shit. I could have done this differently. “What happened on the dance floor—”

“Nothing happened. It was good to see you, but really, I’m just tired.”

“We need to talk, Lina.”

“Let it go. Just drop it.”

“You never answered my one question.”

Her gaze searched mine, and I knew she remembered it. The one when I’d asked her if she was in trouble.

“You’re not going to leave this alone, are you?”

“No.”

She shook her head and dug her phone out of her purse. “Give me your phone number. I’ll call you.”

I gave her my number but knew she had no intention of calling me.

“Call it now,” I said.

“What? You’re right here.”

“Call me, so I have your number.”

With a note of annoyance, she hit the Call button, and my phone rang. I checked the display, and satisfied, tucked it back into my pocket.

“I’m going to give you tonight, Lina. But tomorrow morning, I expect a call with a time and place to meet. I know where you live, and I know where you work. You can’t hide from this. From me.”

“That doesn’t sound too stalker-ish.”

If she was trying to go for light, she failed.

“I’m not letting this go.” The taxi driver honked his horn. I gave him the signal that I’d be one more minute. “Don’t make me come get you, Lina. If you do, there will be consequences.”

The look in her eyes told me she took my warning seriously.

“Understand?”

When she didn’t answer, I stepped closer and took her chin in my hand, tilting her face upward. “I asked you a question.”

“You said you’d wait for me to tell you when I was ready.”

“I must have forgotten to mention the time limit on that.”

“You did forget.”

“Understand?” I repeated my earlier question.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” She swallowed. “I’ll walk you upstairs.”

Without arguing, she marched up the steps ahead of me, unlocked her apartment, and stepped inside. She turned to face me. I don’t know why, but I wrapped my hand around the back of her head and pulled her toward me, twining my fingers in her hair, liking the feel of it, liking the look of her flinching as I tugged.

Neither of us spoke as I searched her face, my gaze falling to her full, parted lips for too long. It took me a moment before I could release her, and when I did, she stumbled back. I turned and walked away. I heard the door close behind me, knowing full well she’d try her hardest to avoid me, knowing full well there was no way in hell I was going to allow that to happen.