“She can’t speak.”

I ring the doorbell, which is stupid because I already told them via the intercom at the gate that I was here.

Preston gives me a sharp nod. “I’m aware.”

“She also does this weird thing where she lights cigarettes since she can no longer smoke them. It’s probably—”

“Got it.”

That subzero front of his is firmly back in place again.  

Sometimes I feel like I’m dealing with two different people.

There’s the Preston who gave me his lucky poker chip. The guy the organ in my chest is unconditionally attached to whether I like it or not.

And Preston—the asshole with the poker face of the devil and an ice sculpture for a heart. The one who drives me out of my mind and makes me seriously contemplate murder.

In other words, not the man who will charm my nanna like he was supposed to. I’m regretting that kiss even more now.

“I think our best bet is to let me do all the talking. All you have to do is sit there and look like you’re hopelessly in love with me, okay?”

Preston stares straight ahead. “I’m the window dressing.”

And that’s when the door opens.

“Reggie will be with you shortly,” a butler informs us curtly before he starts walking, gesturing for us to follow him.

If Preston’s impressed by his surroundings, he doesn’t show it.

Perhaps he’s disgusted like I am, given this place is a gaudy monstrosity. Nothing like my parents’ house which, despite its large size actually felt like a home.

But it wasn't good enough for my nanna, so she had to buy her own.

And what a shit-show it is. Porcelain floors, ridiculous marble statues, and expensive antique knickknacks that serve no real purpose—other than to remind people she's loaded, are just some of the things that surround me as the stuffy butler ushers us into the atrium leading to the enclosed, heated verandah outside.

Figures this is where we’d be eating, she knows I hate it out there. It feels more like dining at an upscale restaurant rather than a meal with family. Which is probably why she likes it, it’s as detached as she is.

Another five minutes pass and when there's still no sign of Reggie, I start walking around. I'm hoping moving will reduce some of the anxiety I've got going on, but I can feel Preston’s eyes on my back the entire time, silently studying me.

I'm about to go find my nanna myself when I hear Reggie's infamous throat clear. “Your grandmother said to go ahead and start without her, she’ll be joining us shortly.”

I open the glass door to the verandah. “Let me guess, she’s busy thinking up more ways to make my life a living hell.”

“She’s with the doctor. She wasn’t feeling well and took a tumble on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night.” Remorse crosses over his features. “I had checked on her minutes before it happened. I thought she was sleeping.”

The blood drains from my face. “Is she okay?”

“She’s doing as well as a woman approaching her final stages of cancer can be doing, yes.” His eyes land on Preston. “This the beard?”

My boy Reggie has jokes.

Palm to head, I gasp dramatically. “I’ll be damned, Reg. Was that…sarcasm?” I pick up a cloth napkin and dab my eyes mockingly. “My baby is all grown up. Soon you’ll be swearing and diddling the maids like the virile hot-blooded male you are.”

In my peripheral vision, I see Preston’s lips twitch.

Reggie’s cheeks redden as we sit down at the table. “The lawyer should be arriving any minute.” He pours himself a cup of coffee and takes a sip. “Probably running late due to having to be here for breakfast at this ungodly hour.”

“Well, you know what they say. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I think my wife did us all a favor.”

Three things happen at that moment.

One—Reggie chokes on his coffee.

Two—Barry, the lawyer arrives.

And three—a maid wheels my nanna in.

Fuck several ducks. This wasn’t how I planned to spill the beans.

I nudge Preston with my knee under the table, reminding him that window dressings don’t talk.

My nanna shoos the maid away and waves Reggie over.

Barry’s already pallid complexion turns peaked. “You got married?”

“Surprise.” Although it shouldn’t be. I told him I was getting myself a husband.

Barry grabs a seat on the other side of me. “Please tell me you didn’t run off and marry someone without a prenup.”

Both his statement and the severe prick in his words has me breaking out in a sweat. Making Preston sign a prenup never even occurred to me. Not once.

But it occurred to him. Because he threatened to take my parents’ money. It’s all I can do not to dry heave. I feel so sick.

My nanna looks at me then, disappointment hardening her gaze.

Without missing a beat, she gestures for Reggie to wheel her out of the verandah, discarding me like I’m nothing more than leftovers.

My heart drops to the floor. I blew it.

Barry lets out a heavy sigh. “How could you be so stupid, Kit?”

Before I can respond, Preston reaches across me and lunges for Barry, grabbing him by the collar. “Call her stupid again and I’ll knock your teeth out, motherfucker.”

“I was only trying to look out for her,” Barry sputters.

“That’s not your job.” Preston tightens his grip. “Now apologize to my wife for being a dipshit.”

“I’m sorry, Kit. I didn’t mean to insinuate you were stupid, I’m concerned is all.”

I give Barry a small nod, I’m so stunned it’s all I can manage to do. To say this breakfast meeting is off to a horrible start would be an understatement.

And although Preston is screwing up the plan, I can’t bring myself to be mad at him for defending my honor.

He’s the only one here who would. Even if it’s only for show.

From the corner of the room, I notice my grandmother. Cigarette in hand, she’s watching the exchange with a sickening pleased expression on her face.

Either she really hates Barry and it amuses her that he’s having his ass handed to him, or she’s starting to believe this fake relationship might not be so fake. If I had to take a gander, I’d say the former, but I don’t want to mess it up in case it’s the latter.

When Preston releases Barry, I lean over and whisper, “Thank you. I’ve got everything from here, though, okay?”

I can practically feel my nanna’s eyes burrowing through me and I realize this exchange probably interests her way more than Preston and Barry’s did.

Which means giving Preston a high-five is out of the question. I rub his shoulder instead, trying to play it off like I’m calming my agitated husband down and whispering soothing words in his ear.

Evidently, it works because Reggie wheels my nanna over to the table and the butler takes our breakfast orders.  

And then there’s nothing but awkward silence.

My specialty.

“Sorry for springing this on you, but I’m just as surprised as you are, Nanna. I was away on business in Vegas of all places, and Preston flew down to meet me.” I reach for the orange juice, ignoring the look Preston’s giving me. “Anyway, he showed up with a gorgeous engagement ring and proposed, it was super romantic. So romantic we couldn’t wait another second and we had to do it right there and then.”

Preston squeezes my knee and I realize that my nanna’s looking at my left ring finger. The one that doesn’t have an engagement ring, but a simple white-gold band.

Nerves flutter in my tummy, but I continue. I can do this. I’m gonna knock her support socks off with a story that’s so unbelievably romantic she’ll keel over and have no choice but to believe every word I say.

“It’s such a shame a mugger held me at gunpoint right after the wedding and stole it.”

Preston, the professional con-artist himself, told me it’s easier to bullshit people when there’s some truth woven into the lie.

This is as close to our truth as it gets.

My nanna lifts an eyebrow and Reggie rolls his eyes. “How tragic.”

“It was, I was scared out of my mind. One moment I was at the hotel bar celebrating, and the next, I was walking outside trying to get some fresh air and some scary Russian man was pointing a gun in my face.” I bat my eyelashes and look at Preston. “But like the white knight he is, Preston came to my rescue.”

My nanna hands Reggie her notepad. “Why were you walking around by yourself?”

She glowers at Preston. Shit.

“We got into an argument,” Preston pipes in. “I told her to go back up to the room, but she ended up following me outside.” He brings his coffee cup to his mouth. “My little dumpling just couldn’t mind her business.”

“You were being attacked by some scary mobster,” I grind out. “I wasn’t going to stand by and watch him kill you. Most people would have said thank you for intervening, ass—ace in the hole.” I grab a slice of toast and butter it, trying with all my might not to stab Preston with the knife in my hand. “It’s my nickname for him. He’s a bit of a poker player.”

Preston snorts. “Most people wouldn’t have involved themselves in the first place.”

I slam my hand down on the table. “Jesus Christ, you’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

He smirks. “Until death do us part, baby.”

“Don’t call me—”

Reggie clears his throat and my own tightens when I realize everyone is staring at us. Including the butler who’s back with our food.

After we’re all served, I take the folder out of my purse containing a copy of the marriage certificate and hand it to Barry.

Then I look at my nanna, silently praying she’ll still uphold her end of the bargain. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I hope you’ll keep your promise to me.”

Barry opens the folder. “You can call and confirm yourself, but according to this, she is married.”

You can cut the tension in the room with a knife.

My breath stutters in my chest when my nanna turns to Preston, eyes narrowed. Preston doesn’t falter though, he gives her the same venomous stare right back.

I kick him under the table, reminding him that he’s not supposed to be pissing her off, but charming her. In typical Preston fashion, he pays me no mind.

The atmosphere is so strained no one has even touched their food.

Gaze still locked on him, my nanna lights another cigarette…and then she blows on the end, driving the smoke directly into Preston’s face. My guts clench, because not only is it one of the rudest gestures I’ve ever witnessed—it’s clear Preston’s not passing her little test.

I’m so screwed. Juan prancing around in a sequin ball gown would have worked out better for me.

Or Landon. Landon would have been the perfect choice. He’s nice and respectful. He would never…

Oh, dear God. Fuck all the ducks.

I watch in horror as Preston plucks the cigarette from her, takes a slow drag…and then blows it right back in her face.

Reggie looks appalled, and Barry, who’s coughing up a storm, looks like he wants to buy him a beer.

Unfazed, Preston gives her a smug smile, deep dimples and all. “Cigarettes are bad for your health, Grams.” He takes another drag and stubs it out on her plate of uneaten food. “So is fucking over my girl.”

My mouth hits the floor and Reggie shoots up from the table. “How dare you—”

My nanna shoves her notepad at him, cutting him off.

His face screws up in confusion as he reads it. “Are you sure about this, madam?”

That earns him a pinch. “She wants me to tell you the original agreement isn’t off the table yet.”

Relieved, my breath leaves me in one big whoosh until he unfolds another sheet of paper and says, “Provided you answer the following questions honestly and to Ms. Bishop’s satisfaction.”

“Fine. I’ll answer—”

“Not you.” Reggie’s eyes swivel to Preston. “Him.”

My nanna folds her hands in her lap, looking far too superior for my liking as Reggie continues, “Since your grandmother never had the chance to approve of your boyfriend before he became your husband, she wants to conduct an interview to make sure you were telling the truth about being involved prior to getting married. Based on those answers, she’ll make her decision regarding whether or not she’ll proceed with making you her beneficiary.”

Oh, crap.

Barry looks at me. “I don’t advise going through with this.” He heaves a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Then again, I also advised you not to get married in the first place.”

My spidey senses tingle. Barry’s right. It’s a trap. Her dislike for Preston aside, it’s clear she never had any intention of making me her beneficiary. She just wants to dangle the carrot in front of me for however long she can before she rams it down my throat and watches me choke to death.

Me and Preston…because every second that ticks by brings him that much closer to his own death.

Our differences aside, I can’t help but feel awful for pulling him into this situation now. He would have been better off with that rich woman at the casino bar.

Preston must be thinking the same thing, because when he pulls out his phone and looks at the time, his jaw tightens. “Let’s get this over with.”

The butler appears. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Scotch,” I mutter, even though it’s clear his question was directed at my nanna.

The butler scurries off and Reggie sits back down in his seat. “How long have you known Kit Bishop?”

Preston picks up his fork. “Three years, three months, and four days if you want to get technical.”

My nanna stiffens, it’s clear she wasn’t prepared for that answer.

Preston takes a hearty bite of his pancake. “Next.”

“Why did you want to marry her?” There’s no mistaking the judgment in Reggie’s voice.

Preston gives him a shit-eating grin. “So no one else could.”

Arrogant ass hat.

“Where did you attend college?”

Shame shadows his face and I want to warn him that my grandmother has a habit of sniffing out a person’s weakness and using it to finish you off like an opponent during a game of Mortal Kombat.

He recovers and looks her dead in the eye. “Yale. But I dropped out before I could graduate.”

“You and your wife have that in common,” Reggie says snidely, and I give him the one-finger salute.

Preston turns to look at me, but then my nanna scribbles something on her pad. “Why did you drop out?”

The butler arrives with my scotch and Preston takes it from him. “It’s personal.”

My nanna’s not happy with that answer and I blurt out the first thing I can think of. “His father passed away the same day the second semester of his sophomore year started.”

I inwardly shudder. The same day of the Woodside school shooting.

Maybe that will soften her heart enough and I’ll be able to borrow a million from her so Preston can give it to that Campanelli guy.

If not...

I close my eyes, hoping it won’t come down to that.

“My condolences,” Reggie says before he goes back to his paper. “In your opinion, what is Kit’s best trait?”

Preston’s response is automatic. “Her heart.”

“Worst trait?”

“Her family.” Preston pins my nanna with a dark stare. “Specifically, the vindictive hag who locked her in a basement.”

Her eyes become tiny slits and dread claws at my chest. So much for asking for a loan to save him now.

Reggie shifts, looking uncomfortable. “Where was your first kiss?”

The hand around the glass of scotch tightens. “In an elevator.”

I try to keep my expression neutral, but heat rushes over my face. I don’t know why he would say that when there are two, no, technically three, real places he could have chosen to say instead. Why pick that one?

“An elevator where?” Barry asks appearing enthralled.

Preston takes a sip of his drink. “Woodside University. I was with Kit during the school shooting. Kyle was holding us hostage and threatening to kill us all. But, thanks to Landon sacrificing himself we were able to hide out in the elevator until the police showed up.”

“Thanks to Landon and Preston.” My hand goes to my necklace. “I wasn’t being very cooperative and Preston had to drag me to safety. If he didn’t, I probably wouldn’t be here.”

His lips turn up in a snarl and he looks at my grandmother. “I made sure she was okay when you couldn’t even be bothered to show up at the hospital.”

Whatever doubt my nanna had about me not knowing Preston is gone with that statement.

The woman almost looks sorry.

Either that or she ordered the butler to drug my food and I’m seeing things. I wouldn’t put anything past her anymore.

Reggie looks puzzled. “I thought you said you went to Yale? What were you doing at Woodside?”

“Does it really fucking matter?” He leans back in his seat and folds his arms. “Who the hell are you, anyway? The only way a man would take this much crap from an old bag is if she’s fucking, feeding, or financing him.”

It’s like he wants the mobsters to kill him.

Reggie turns his nose up. “I’m her assistant.”

“No shit,” Preston scoffs. “Given you’re about as gay as the day is long I assumed as much.”

I can’t help but take offense to his mocking tone. “Something wrong with being gay, Preston?”

“Dammit, Kit you know I—”

Reggie drives his finger into the air. “You’re out of line, sir. I’ll have you know I am not a homosexual.”

Clearly, I should have directed my question at Reggie.

Preston’s nostrils flare. “I wasn’t—”

A plate shatters against the floor and we all look at my grandmother.

“Madam, are you—”

My nanna holds a hand up, silencing him. And then to my sheer confusion, she crooks a finger at Preston, calling him over.

Automatically my hand goes to his arm. I don’t know what she’s planning on doing, but I don’t trust her.

“I’m fine, Kit.”

With that, he walks over and takes a seat next to her.

She shoos Reggie to the other side of the table before she writes something on her notepad and hands it to Preston.

The knot of tension in Preston’s shoulders mounts as he reads it and I lean over the table, attempting to see.

Sensing my nosiness, she hits the side of her cup with a fork in warning.  

My annoyance grows when she rams a pen into his hand and taps the notepad. I was hoping I’d be able to figure out what was going on by his response.

He scrawls something on it and gives it back to her.

And then there’s nothing but silence as her gaze ping-pongs between us.

That is until Preston’s phone rings and he pulls it out of his pocket.

Before I can inquire what’s going on, my nanna jots something else on the notepad and thrusts it at him.

Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he scribbles his answer.

Then he stands up.

“Everything okay?”

I have no idea what to make of the look on his face, but it’s enough to send my heart into the pit of my stomach. “Yeah. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall and to the left,” Reggie informs him and he takes off like a bat out of hell.

“What did you do?”

She rips up the paper from her notepad and shrugs.

I’m about to let her have it, but an unsettling feeling hits me full force and I dash out of the room.

The look he gave me was unlike any I’ve ever seen from him—almost like he was saying goodbye. Combined with that secret cell phone of his ringing, it’s enough to send me into a tailspin.  

My heart thunders in my ribs when I check the first-floor bathroom and find it empty.

The sick feeling in my stomach rises when I glance at one of the security monitors in the foyer and see a black SUV parked at the end of the long driveway.

An SUV Preston's walking toward.

I sprint out the front door, cursing when I reach the first gate that’s closed.

I slam the buzzer. “Let me out!”

Not waiting for it to open entirely, I squeeze through it and run down the long, winding driveway that's just under a quarter mile, praying they haven't left yet.

My lungs cramp and burn and it feels like an eternity has passed by the time I turn the curve and approach them.

My heart folds in on itself when I see that both of Preston’s arms are being held by two freakishly large men while another man stands in front of him, ready to attack…but not with his fists.

With some kind of metal baton.

Judging by the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth and the way his body wants to hunch over despite being physically detained by the men, they’ve used it once already.

“Preston!” My voice comes out tattered and my stomach jolts with a brutal lurch.

If they kill him…they’ll have to kill me too. It doesn’t matter if we’re hiding in an elevator or facing scary mobsters…we’re a team.

“She has nothing to do with this shit. She’s just some rich bitch I’m screwing.” Even though he’s trying hard not to break, there’s no mistaking the pain he’s in when he looks at me. “Go inside.”

Not a chance.

The man before him takes a step back, getting ready to take another swing.

“Stop hurting him.” I'm a shaking mess as I dig inside my purse for the jewelry box. “I have your money.”

I charge toward them, but the SUV door opens and some scary man in a suit comes out and violently seizes my arm.

“I told you, she has nothing to do with this, Campanelli. Leave her alone—”

The baton flies into Preston’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

“Stop! I told you, I have it.”

Squinting his eyes at me, the man in the suit barks, “Who are you?”

He has the faintest hint of an Italian accent.

“I’m his wife.” I hold up the jewelry box with my free hand. “And inside this box is a twelve-carat ring worth three million dollars. I have certified papers to prove it if you don’t believe me. I’ll even go with you to pawn it if that’s what it takes.”

“Goddammit, Kit, no—” A punch to Preston’s face cuts him off mid-sentence.  

“Change of plans.” The grip on my arm becomes so tight I wince. “We’re taking the moglie with us.”

He starts tugging me inside the car, but the sound of a gun firing makes him pause. “Che cazzo è?”

“Some old woman with a gun,” one of the men answers.

Craning my neck, I stare in shock as Reggie wheels my gun-toting nanna down the driveway. An out of shape, wheezing Barry struggles to keep up behind them.

Promptly, the men draw their guns and point them at her, causing Preston to fall to the ground with a curse.

Our gazes cross as he stands back up and I give him a shrug. I honestly have no idea what she’s doing.

We all find out when she nudges Reggie and he pristinely states, “Madam wants me to inform you she will take care of whatever money is owed to you, provided you leave her grandchild alone and get off her property at once.”

One of the men snicker and Preston mutters, “This is like bringing a spoon to a gunfight.” He looks at Campanelli. “I’ll get you the million by sundown if you let her go.”

One of the men hits him with a gun.

“Stop hurting him.” I struggle against his hold, but the goon starts bending my arm and I gasp in pain.

That only makes Preston charge for Campanelli…which earns him a hard punch to the kidney before he’s restrained again.  

He spits blood at him, twisting and foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. “You better kill me because the next time you hurt her, I’ll rip your throat out and feed it to the Russians.”

The gun pointed at my grandmother shifts to Preston, but I yell, “Everybody calm down and shut up so I can give the man his money.” I don’t know who this girl taking charge is, but I like her. She’s stronger than the girl who cried and shook during a school shooting.

Then again, there’s only so many guns you can have pointed at you before you become desensitized to it.

There’s only so many times you can have your life threatened before you decide to stop letting others control you and fight for it.

Cocking my head, I look up at the mobster holding me captive. “I have what you want, but the longer we stand here partaking in this pissing contest, the more time and energy we’re wasting. You seem like an important man—surely standing in a driveway having it out with a gambling addict, his wife, and her senile grandmother doesn’t top your list of priorities for the day. Therefore, why don’t we get his debt squared away so you can go back to what you do best and handle your business?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle. “I like you.” He taps his temple. “You use this to think instead of emotions like most women.”

Dude couldn’t be farther from the truth. Logic has always taken a backseat to my emotions. But considering he could kill me in the next five seconds, I’m not about to argue.

He looks at the guy with the baton. “Take note, Matteo. She gets me. She also doesn’t waste my time with bullshit. You should have tracked him down after the poker match and killed him that night.”

It’s safe to say we’re a little lost in translation and not on the same page.

Nanna pokes Reggie and he clears his throat. “Madam will offer you two million.”

Campanelli laughs. “Why would I do that when I can get three million from this girl?”

“Well, I mean pawn shops never offer retail value—”

“I just told you I liked you, Bella.” He skims my cheek. “Don’t ruin the start of a good thing between us.”

“She’s married,” Preston says through clenched teeth.

But more importantly—gay.

“Not for long. I told you what would happen if you ever crossed me and stole my money.”

“He didn’t steal your money. Your money was stolen from him by some Russian guys. Trust me, I was there. Besides, do you really think he could spend that kind of money in a single night. And even if he did, don’t you think he’d be hiding out somewhere more clever than an old woman’s house?”

He starts to speak, but Reggie holds up a check. “Madame will offer you twelve million dollars if you leave both her granddaughter and her husband alone. For good.”

“How do I know this is legit?”

“She’ll contact the bank and verify the funds for you if you wish.”

I look at my nanna, waiting for her to take it back and cackle as he kills us. But she sits stoic, watching Campanelli like a hawk.

Campanelli drums his fingers along his jaw. “Preston brings me decent money. Then again, I’ll probably end up killing him sooner or later. He’s not exactly a pleasant employee, you know? One of these days that little attitude problem of his is going to land him at the bottom of a lake.”

Preston starts to speak, but I hold up a hand. “Believe me, I get it. I married the guy. But for twelve million he’ll be out of your hair for good. Think about it, that’s one million a month for a year. Although there’s taxes so that—”

“Men like Campanelli don’t pay taxes, Kit,” Preston bites out. “Now will you shut the fuck up already so he’ll take the offer and let you go.”

It’s taking everything in me not to tell one of Campanelli’s men to whack him. “Are you seriously telling me to shut up when I just saved your ass? Unbelievable. I swear to God you are the rudest, most—”

“Thirteen,” Reggie says. “Now please, sir, do us all a favor and take the offer. If you don’t, these two will keep arguing until they kill each other.”

He scratches his chin, pondering the thought. You’d think the man was being offered a sale on a used car after a major flood instead of thirteen million dollars.

“Fine. On one condition.”

“Are we supposed to guess?” Preston mutters after another moment passes.

The look Campanelli gives him makes me inwardly shudder. “If you ever step foot in Vegas again, I’ll kill you.”

Preston’s face falls faster than a child finding out the truth about Santa. Before he can do something stupid and argue, I say, “He won’t. Swear on my life.”

The look Campanelli gave him has nothing on the look Preston casts my way.

I can’t focus on that though because Campanelli releases his hold on me and walks over to Preston who’s still being restrained.

He twists the gaudy gold ring on his finger. “He better not.”

Before anyone can blink, he launches his fist into Preston’s groin. Hard.

I don’t even have balls and I’m recoiling.

The men laugh as they release him and he drops to the ground. The tendons in his neck straining as his face turns red with both fury and agony.

And because Campanelli is a special brand of ruthless, he issues him a sharp kick before he motions for his men to head out.

I’m so upset I’m shaking. I want nothing more than to give the douchebag a taste of his own medicine. But if I do, this will no longer be over.

Instead, I do the only thing I can. I situate myself on the ground beside a hunched-up Preston and rub his back, hoping it will alleviate some of the pain.

Campanelli spares me one last glance before he gets into the SUV. “I like you.”

That’s not creepy at all.

Preston grunts as they drive off. “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker.” Slowly, he staggers to his feet. “I would have kicked his ass if it weren’t for two of his bitches holding me back while another took cheap shots at me.”

“I know. You’re big and strong. A modern-day Tarzan.”

I reach for his arm to help but he shucks me off. “What the fuck were you thinking involving yourself? Again?”

Looking up to the sky, I stifle my annoyance. Only Preston could be internally hemorrhaging, or worse, and still find the time to yell about me butting into his life when he fucks it up.

“You know, I don’t remember Cinderella or any of the other princesses giving their heroes this much crap.”

The dirty stare he levels me with would be comical if it wasn’t so chilling. “What if he killed you? What if he decided to shoot you on the spot when you approached? Ever think of that?”

No. Not once. The only thing I could think about was saving him in time. “I—”

“I don’t want your coffin on my conscience. Do us both a favor and stop doing stupid shit.”

“I was only trying—”

“Well, don’t. Stop trying to play hero, Bishop. It won’t bring them back.”

It would hurt less if he rammed my head into the asphalt.

He starts hobbling back up the driveway, discarding me like litter on the side of the road.

Reggie and Barry have the good grace to look down, but not her. She’s eyeballing me, waiting to see what I’ll do next.

Her assistance always comes at a price. No matter how much my heart wants to believe that maybe she’s turned over a new leaf due to her illness, I can’t delude myself about what kind of woman she really is.

The only thing I can do is play into her hand so I can get what’s rightfully mine.

She’ll be dead soon.

“Thank you for what you did.” The words are like sawdust in my throat.

Preparing to follow my unappreciative asshole husband, I start to turn, but then Reggie says, “She wants the doctor to see him. After he calms down of course.”

I nod. Considering I’m almost positive Preston would never agree to go to the hospital, it’s not a bad idea.

“While he’s being checked out, your grandmother would like to discuss the estate with you and Barry.”

I eye her skeptically. “You mean it?”

She holds up her notebook and I nearly throw up in my mouth when I see what’s she’s written.

Grandbabies.

“You’re unbelievable.” I shake my head in disgust, preparing to walk away.

“She’ll leave you your parents’ house if you agree to try. You can move in as early as this week. She’ll have everything prepared for you.”

My heart thumps a painful rhythm and I close my eyes. I’ve wanted my home back since the day I was ripped out of it.

She’ll be dead soon. Christ, it’s like my new mantra.

Driving air into my lungs, I force myself to seriously consider her new term. It takes nine months to have a baby. Everyone knows it doesn’t usually happen on the first try. Not that me and Preston will be trying any of that.

The woman only has a few weeks left. Months at most. This is an easy get around.

Besides, it’s not like she’ll park herself at the foot of my bed and demand to watch. Although I wouldn’t put it past the evil witch.

“Fine.”

I jog up the driveway, so I don’t have to see the self-satisfied look on her face.

I’m getting part of my parents back, and it’s all that matters.

Even if I have to give up part of me in the process.

Preston’s almost reached the house by the time I catch up. Which is bad for him, because it’s given me time to stew. “You had one job, Holden. All you had to do was sit there and look pretty.”

I can practically see the tiny hairs on the back of his neck raise as he spins around. “You’re fucking with me, right?” He inches closer and my breathing turns staticky. “Are you really going to stand there and blame me for putting your cunt grandmother in her place and for you being reckless enough to almost get yourself killed?”

Guilt, the traitorous bitch, snags me. He has a point.

“I’m not saying—”

“It’s like you don’t have a single drop of self-preservation in you.” Disgust coats his words and I inwardly flinch. “You’re low hanging fruit for all the assholes in the world.”

“Like you?”

“Yeah, like me.” There’s a genuine uneasiness in his eyes. A blemish in his stone-cold armor. “He could have killed you and there wouldn’t have been a damn thing I could do to stop it.” He punches his chest. “Do you have any fucking idea what that feels like?”

Not that it excuses his behavior, but when I look at things through his perspective, I can see how me showing up threw him off kilter. Preston hates being put in a position where he can’t manipulate or control the outcome. Almost as much as he hates being vulnerable.

I pretty much handed his enemy his Achilles’ heel on a silver platter.

But I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Instinctively, I bridge the distance between us. “I do. Because he could have killed you.” My hand goes to his face, but he catches my wrist at the last moment, almost like the contact will scald him.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up and head out. Since your grandmother came to your rescue and paid Campanelli off, it’s safe to say you have this in the bag.”

Before I can protest, he stalks off, leaving me to choke on his dust.

As usual, he has this uncanny ability to make me want to push him off a cliff…and then turn myself into a body of water at the last possible second just to make sure he lands safely.

He’s a jerk. He’s mean. And he’s cruel.

But he’s Preston.

I see the parts of him no one else bothers to. The parts he doesn’t want anyone to see.

He’s approaching the bathroom when I catch up with him again and I sashay past him, locking the door behind us.

“What are you doing, Bishop?”

I grab the first aid kit and a bottle of peroxide from the cabinet under the sink. “Sit.”

When he gives me a look, I tell him, “We can either do this the easy way or the hard way.”

Reluctantly he closes the lid to the toilet and sits. “You’re annoying.”

Inhaling a breath, I place the supplies on the counter and stand in front of him. “And you’re merciless.” I pour peroxide on a cotton ball. “I don’t care if you think being a good person and choosing to look for the good in others makes me stupid. I won’t apologize for being who I am.” My voice trembles and he curses under his breath. “I won’t apologize for my emotions either because I’d rather feel everything there is to feel in this world…than nothing like you do. I’d rather—”

He cups my face, rendering me speechless. “I don’t think you’re stupid.” I can almost hear his teeth grinding. “And I don’t want you to apologize for being who you are, I just want you to stop…” His voice trails off and he looks away.

“Stop what?”

The fingers on my skin spasm. “Your mother’s engagement ring, you never should have—”

“It was my only option.”

“It shouldn’t have been an option at all. Not for someone like me.”

“This might sting.” I place the cotton ball on his lip so he stops talking. “You gave the Russian dude a million dollars to save me without batting an eye, I’d say we’re about even.”

He snorts. “Not even close.”

Ignoring him, I set to work on the cut on his cheek next. It’s deeper than the others. “You might need stitches for this one.”

He gestures to the first aid kit. “If there are butterfly stitches in there I can take care of it myself.”

I reach over and get them. “You seem to have a lot of experience with this. Do you get your ass kicked often?”

His eyes turn to steel. “Not anymore.”

Instantly my heart aches and I feel like a monster for my offhanded comment. “I’m glad he’s dead.”

“Pretty powerful words for a girl who hates death.”

“I know.”

His hand curls around my hip, stilling me. “You never mentioned you didn’t graduate.”  

“Didn’t think I needed to.”

His face screws up. “The thought of returning to classes after a school shooting must have—”

“That wasn’t it.” I hold his stare. “It was more like what happened after the shooting.” A flicker of resentment pops through the surface. “In a hospital room.”

His dark eyes go wide, like he can’t believe what I’m insinuating, but then his expression turns somber. “Shit.” His grip on my hip tightens, almost like he’s afraid I’ll run away. “I didn’t want that. Believe it or not, I do give a fuck about what happens to you.”

“Right.” I dab the cotton ball on his wound, being way less gentle than before. “Because nothing says you care like smashing someone’s heart to smithereens.”

His thumb strokes the flesh above my waistband. “I did it for you. I did it so you—”

“Be still my heart, you stuck your dick in her mouth for me?” Placing a hand on my chest, I mock-gasp. “How noble of you.”

A muscle in his jaw jumps. “I wanted you away from her.”

“Yeah, no kidding. She hurt you and it was obvious you wanted to fix things. Either that or you just had this insatiable need to screw her again.”

He grabs my face forcefully. “You’re so fucking wrong, Bishop. I didn’t do it because I wanted to get off and I didn’t do it because I wanted to fix shit with her. I did it to hurt you because it was the only way I knew you’d come to your senses. You couldn’t see the forest through the trees back then. Someone needed to show you the right path.”

“Did the right path involve me getting arrested?”

Shock crosses over his face. “What?”

I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter, what’s done is done. And technically it wasn’t your fault, it was mine.”

I try to turn away, but his hands slide to the small of my back, caging me. “What happened?”

Since there’s no point in lying, I spill. “I was in a dark place after everything went down. I hung out with the wrong people and pushed the right people, like Breslin, away. Even my nanna’s threats didn’t work. Long story short—I met a girl at a club one night and after a few drinks…”

I peer down at my shoes, embarrassment hitting me square in the chest.

He tilts my chin up. “After a few drinks, what?”

I look up to the ceiling to keep the tears at bay. “You know me—I had tunnel vision and ended up falling head over heels.” I sniff. “She wanted to go to some party for her agent—she was a model, which shouldn’t come as a surprise because as you already know—pretty girls are my kryptonite. Anyway, I inadvertently gave her my keys and we took off. Next thing I knew, my car was sitting in the middle of someone’s house and I was being arrested for a DUI and a purse full of cocaine that wasn’t mine. She was nowhere to be found…shocker.”

“Christ.”

“I know. I royally fucked up. Thank God no one was home or hurt. If it wasn’t for Breslin, Landon, and Asher coming to my rescue, I would have been up shit creek without a paddle. Your brother bailed me out of jail and pretty much let me live in his home for a year while I was on house arrest. All three of them chipped in to help pay for my lawyer and they got me through one of the hardest times of my life. I don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for them.”

He holds my gaze. “I’m so fucking sorry, Kit.”

The sincere look in his eyes tells me he means it.

“Me too. But it’s over and done now. It took a while, but eventually, I found a decent job I liked with a boss who was willing to hire me despite my record, and I got my life back in order.” I laugh sardonically. “Or rather, I did. It’s a bit messed up at the moment.”

And that’s when the Band-Aid on the dam comes off.

Big, ugly sobs wretch out of me. The impact of everything that’s happened over the last few days hitting me like a nor’easter on steroids.

I’m losing everything I worked so hard to put back together. My stability, my sanity. My sexuality.

For the first time since my parents died, I was able to build a life that didn’t involve my nanna’s iron fist. But that’s long gone now. And even though I chose this path in order to keep what little of my parents I have left…there’s a small part of me that hates myself for giving in.

However, I know I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t.

Without warning, he pulls me closer, his arms coiling around me snugly despite the momentous amount of pain I know he’s in.

He doesn’t pacify me and tell me it’s going to be okay like Breslin would. He doesn’t tell me to toughen up like my nanna always has. And he doesn’t lie and say he’ll always be there for me like every other person before him…because we both know he won’t.

Instead—he holds me as I continue to shatter. Holds me until I’ve cried every bit of my heart out and there are no more tears left for me to shed.

He holds me until the hurt subsides and I can breathe again.

And he does it without any judgments or scrutiny. He lets me be me—even when what I am is one big mess.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats when the worst of my meltdown has diminished. His voice is so faint, I almost don’t hear him. “I knew it would hurt you, but I didn’t think it would…”

“Not everyone is a stone like you, Preston. Some people are more like Origami…we fold, bend, and change shape. We find a way to adapt when life throws us curveballs.”

But at the end of the day…we’re still paper. Still fragile.

Still a lightweight.

Which is why when Preston makes the mistake of leaning in…I do something I shouldn’t.

I bend and break…

Because I need this more than my next breath. I need to feel connected to someone. Even though it’s not real…I need the illusion.

And I can’t think of anyone better than Preston to provide it.

It’s not possible for me to ever fall for him…and he’s not capable of falling in love with anyone other than himself.

He’s safe. I can use him for comfort and he can use me for...

A moan leaves me when he pulls me onto his lap, sucking and biting every inch of my skin his lips touch. “So fucking perfect.”

I cling to his shoulders, desperately needing more. “Keep kissing me.”

He complies, and my hand goes to the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss. “More.”

I flick my tongue along his and he groans into my mouth. “Bishop.”

It sounds like a warning, but I can’t stop. If I do, I’ll go back to feeling dejected and miserable.

Or worse—empty.

His palms slide up my thighs, stopping to cup my ass firmly. “Do you have any idea how bad I want to fuck this perfect ass of yours?” He rolls his hips, creating a friction I’m not sure how to navigate.

My insides begin to shake in protest and the haze I was in lifts. “Preston.”

The lines of his face draw tight. “Take it out and ride it, angry girl.” A small smirk unfurls. “Maybe have mercy on me and suck it a little first. I am an injured man after all.”

I’d almost laugh if I didn’t feel so sick to my stomach. My hand flies to my mouth and for a moment, I honestly think I’m going to add insult to his injuries and puke all over him. “I’m so sorry.”

I’m not the type to use and lead someone on. I know what it’s like to be on the opposite end and it’s never a pleasant experience. “I can’t do this.”

He reaches for me when I get off his lap. “It’s my fault. I forgot you wouldn’t know how—”

“Seriously?” I back away, putting as much distance between us as I can. “You say that like there’s something wrong with me because I won’t drop to my knees and suck you off or fuck you. Newsflash, Holden. I’m not defective because I don’t want your junk. It just doesn’t interest me.”

The muscles in his neck tighten. “You know, for someone who claims not to like cock, you sure like to tease it.”

The statement physically hurts, his words an intentional sucker punch. “I thought you were different.”

His gaze burns right through me. “Yeah, me too.”

We can’t keep doing this.

I’ve only been glued to his side for forty-eight hours and already he’s turned my life upside down.

Because that’s what Preston Holden does.

You let him get one foot inside your door…or worse, inside your heart…and it’s utter mayhem.

Chaos and destruction.

“We can’t kiss anymore. All it does is complicate things between us and make us cross lines we shouldn’t. Lines we can’t.” My throat locks up as I continue. “We have an unexplainable bond, I’ll never deny that. But it will never be enough…we’ll never be able to give the other one what they need. It’s not fair to either of us.”

“You’re right.” He starts to stand, and it takes everything in me not to rush over when he curses under his breath and grips the ledge of the sink. “But I can’t help but wonder. Is it really the kissing that upsets you…or the fact that you liked it?”

“I’m gay.”

“And I hate country music. But I still listen to Johnny Cash.”

“Are you really trying to compare my sexual orientation to something as trivial as your choices in music? That right there proves you don’t understand a damn thing about this. Me being gay isn’t a joke, it’s who I am. I’m sorry if that’s an issue for you—”

“The only person in this room who has an issue with your sexuality is you, Kit.”

I open my mouth to tell him off, but there’s a knock.

“The doctor is waiting,” Reggie informs us curtly.

I pick up the first aid kit off the floor. “My nanna wants her doctor to see you.”

He limps toward the door. “I don’t need a doctor.”

“My nanna said she’d go over the will while he checks you out.” I look him up and down. “You could be seriously hurt, let him examine you. Please.”

Brushing past me, he turns the knob. “Fine, but after that, you’re giving me a ride to the airport.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to protest, but there’s no point. It’s probably best we don’t spend any more time together. “Fine.”

With that, we go our separate ways.