I don’t kiss. I wouldn’t say never, but it wasn’t something I did after sex. In the heat of the moment, I have no problems with it, but I’m not an after-sex kisser or cuddler. As she pulled me closer to her lips, after I came so hard I felt like I’d been turned inside out, I couldn’t help myself. Her lips looked so pink and soft and full, I needed to sample them. When our lips met, nothing else existed. The world centered on her mouth. On her taste. On the way we fit together perfectly. And I wanted more. I wanted her so badly it shook me out of my trance.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was using me. Needed something from me. That was the only reason she was here. Maybe I’d underestimated her. I thought she was a naive woman who didn’t know what she was doing, but maybe that was what she counted on. Catching me off guard. Letting me fall into the trap she laid for me.

My rules saved me. The reason for them was to let her know I was in control. I needed to remind her and myself what this was all about.

“You can ask your questions now,” I said, standing in front of her. Her eyes got as wide as saucers and she tugged at the sheet, freeing it and wrapping it around herself. Maybe she wouldn’t ask. Maybe she didn’t want to play that game. Wasn’t using me. She cleared her throat and I willed her not to ask one.

“Why?” she said, her voice still husky. I closed my eyes. There it was. The sadness poured over me, threatening to drown me. It wasn’t real, I reminded myself. Her question scraped at the edges of the veneer we’d put on what we were doing. I welcomed the distance that followed. It kept me safe from getting too invested.

“Why?” I echoed, leveling my eyes at her. She shrank back, bringing her knees up to her chest. “Why is Rhys Thayer in my crosshairs?” She nodded. “Because your boss is a fraud. He’s a complete and total fraud, and everything about him, from his smile to his charities, are a lie. A lie built on the legacy of destruction his parents left to him. Everyone thinks Rhys Thayer is a great guy. What did Time magazine call him? ‘The man we don’t deserve’,” I scoffed. “Your boss has more dirty secrets than the mob and I intend to find out every single one.”

I wasn’t going to tell her everything. I wasn’t going to tell her about Beth. If I told her what I knew, she’d run right back to him and expose everything I was looking for, and that would give him time to cover it up. The things I gave her, those were misdeeds long past that he couldn’t cover up, no matter how hard he tried. I had the letters. The contracts that showed how his parents destroyed my father’s company, imploded it from within to get what they wanted.

Because of them, my dad was in jail, my mother was dead, and Beth was dead. If I had to live with my guilt over what happened, he didn’t get to escape either.

It was like a bucket of cold water thrown in my face when Killian said those words You can ask your questions now. For a little while I’d pretended all this was happening because of his desire for me or our attraction to one another. Sure, that was part of it, but it was more about his need to control things. His ability to manipulate the situation to suit his needs. I took a deep breath and asked the question I’d wanted answered from the beginning.

“His parents used people to do their dirty work. They were never held accountable for their crimes. The world never got to see who they truly were and Rhys is following right along in their footsteps. Some of us suffer for our sins. He should have to as well,” he said, his eyes so cold it sent a shiver down my spine.

As Killian gave me a glimpse into what happened between his father and Rhys’s parents, I couldn’t help but try to figure out why this translated to a vendetta against Rhys.

I didn’t understand. I’d never even seen Rhys yell at anyone. What kinds of secrets could he be hiding? Part of me was afraid to find out. Or was it all some obsession in Killian’s mind? The sins of the father shouldn’t pass to his son. Rhys hadn’t done any of this. He may have benefited from it, but that didn’t seem like a reason to implode his life.

There had to be more and I didn’t even know where to start. Killian left the room to get a drink, not even asking me if I wanted one. Shame crawled in my stomach. You’ve got to put your big girl pants on, if you want to do this. Just suck it up. I searched for my clothes on the floor, sliding my skirt up my legs. I grabbed my phone and checked the new emails. He came back into the room with a crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid and a glass of white wine.

“Where are you going?” he asked, setting the wine glass down on the nightstand.

“I was going to go. I…I figured we were done,” I said, stammering.

Killian walked over to me holding my gaze. “You go when I say you go,” he said, pushing the skirt back down over my hips. “What’s Rule No. 1 and No. 4?”

I wracked my brain trying to remember them. I’d been pretty much solely focused on the not coming one, the others were just outside my grasp.

“Let me remind you,” he said, walking behind me, rubbing a cube of ice along my shoulders. I shivered. “Rule No. 1 is you belong to me after working hours.” He nipped my shoulder, making me jump, and took my phone out of my hands, throwing it on the chair in the corner. “And Rule No. 4 is no running away from me until you’re dismissed. Are you ready to end this?” he asked, his lips on my skin, searing their imprint into my neck. I shook my head ‘no’. I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready…

The dimness I’d plunged into when I thought I’d been dismissed gave way to another feeling, something more dangerous. It was longing and hope that he wanted me here. That this wasn’t just about the rules and the game we were playing.

“Now let me show you what happens when you’re listening skills aren’t up to snuff,” he said. And he showed me throughout most of the night. It was a night of sensual torture where he made sure I remembered all his rules. But I don’t think it worked because I was already tempted to break them again.