Whatever it was, it set me on edge.
“I have a surprise for you.” His dark eyes cut through me. Something fluttered whenever he so much as glanced at me. I had to pull myself together.
“You’re going to fix this boat and get me off this island?” I asked, squeezing the excess water from my ponytail.
He cleared his throat as he followed the movement of my hands. “You’re smart enough, you don’t need me to answer that.” He stood up, towering over me, and then turned. “Are you coming?”
“Do I have a choice?” I couldn’t help defying him. It was like my mouth moved independently from my mind.
“No.”
My thoughts came to a halt when Kingston stopped, glancing at me over his shoulder. His lips slowly tugged in a smirk, and I hated how it frazzled me.
“I could throw you over my shoulder and carry you,” he said, his tone goading. Was he… Was he flirting with me?
“Fine. I’m coming,” I whispered, shaking my head and averting my eyes.
The rest of the way back to the estate, I followed in silence, careful not to step on sharp stones or branches. To my surprise, he led the way toward the library. The second I entered, a gasp left my lips.
“What—” I shook my head, at a loss for words. “How?”
Barefoot, I padded toward the south wall. Sometime over the last week, Kingston had rearranged one entire wall with floor-to-ceiling shelves. A ladder in front of it, carved ornately from solid wood. And the best part? It was stocked with a wide variety of romance authors—Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, Barbara Cartland, Eliza Haywood, Maria Edgeworth.
I turned to find Kingston watching me, propped against the wall with his hands shoved in his pockets. His stare was edged with something heated and dark—something that battled with my resolve.
“I found them stored away in the attic.” He pushed off the wall and made his way over to me. It felt as if I’d forgotten how to breathe with each step. His long, graceful fingertips brushed over the frayed spines. “There are traditional titles, and some more…”
He cleared his throat, drawing my attention to his face. Was Kingston blushing?
“More what?” I pressed.
“More scandalous.”
“Where?” I blurted. Heat rushed to my cheeks, and every inch of me grew hot, realizing I just admitted my love for dirty romance novels.
His eyes fell to my cheeks, and then he laughed. It was an easy sound, one that I didn’t think he was accustomed to making.
Warmth curled low in my stomach.
He ran a hand through his dark hair, and before I knew what was happening, he closed the distance between us. His hand wrapped around my nape, and I waited with bated breath. I didn’t know what I was waiting for, but something told me I was about to find out.
Kingston’s mouth found mine, and I shivered. His kiss was intense, stealing my oxygen and emptying my mind from rational thought. My curves molded to his hard body, burning everywhere he touched me.
He angled my head back, ravishing my mouth with an intensity and hunger that matched my own. It was as if he couldn’t stop, and with every heartbeat, we lost ourselves to the sheer insanity of it.
Until he pulled away, leaving me unsteady on my shaky knees. His dark gaze clashed with mine as a storm brewed around us, and I knew he’d just altered the course of our lives.
“Enjoy your books,” was all he said as he walked backward away from me, away from the puddle he’d just reduced me to.
Chapter 41Kingston
Something had shifted—altogether steadily and slowly—over the past week. Or maybe I could pinpoint it to when I first saw Liana saving those women from the shipping container in D.C. Either way, it was confronting.
Liana Volkov had me in knots. I ached for her. I craved her presence all the fucking time, and that was unacceptable. Maybe this—whatever this was—was an ingredient for a happy life.
She wasn’t supposed to be the one for me, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t even go an hour without seeking her out. Our paths had converged, and we’d both been left fighting this sizzling attraction. If I wasn’t sure before, I certainly was now. Our little foray across enemy lines just about set the fucking island on fire.
It was wrong; I knew that. But damn had it felt good.
I took a deep breath and took a seat in my office, staring out at the ripples in the sparkling water. Louisa always dreamed of a secluded place, somewhere warm with a beach all to ourselves. She never got it, but her twin did.
It wasn’t fair, but I had neither the energy nor the courage to fight it anymore.
My phone buzzed and I flicked a glance at the screen. “Hello, Winston,” I said into the speaker.
“You doing okay?”
“Shouldn’t I be?” I retorted dryly.
“Consider this a heads-up.” My shoulders tensed. “Illias Konstantin reached out to Byron. Apparently the Thorns of Omertà want your location.”
“Who specifically?” I gritted. The underworld could always get in contact with me, but they never could locate me. It was by design—trust was a bitch that got you killed.
“Enrico Marchetti.” Fuck, I knew he wouldn’t let it go. The moment he learned Sofia had a daughter, he wanted to get his paws on her and make her pay for the torture his wife had endured.
Yes, I worked alongside the Omertà. Yes, I killed with them and for them. But I wouldn’t allow them anywhere near Liana.
She was mine and mine alone.
“Tell him you have no way of getting in touch with me,” I deadpanned.
“You got it.” I could almost hear the smirk in his voice “How’s my plane?”
“I had to take it apart.”
“What?”
“I’ll have it in shape before it’s returned.” Obviously I knew she’d never be able to fly a plane, but I wanted her to see for herself how futile working alone would be. And maybe I wanted to teach her a lesson at the same time, sue me.
“She’s quite the woman, huh?”
“She is,” I agreed, then steered the conversation away from Liana. “Any chance you know of someone who’s capable of DNA tracing?” I asked, changing subjects. “That sliced finger I left in my freezer back in D.C. I want to know who it belongs to.”
“Hmmm.” Silence thrummed over the line for a moment. “I might. You okay if I have someone grab it from your penthouse? I’m in Paris with Billie.”
Billie was my brother’s wife, and considering the two had just spent six years apart, I understood his reluctance to leave her.
“How about I have it delivered to you once I’m back in the States?”
“Better that it goes directly to my friend Tristan Bennetti. He knows of an excellent forensic pathologist.”
“Send me the address.”
Once the call ended, I pulled up the surveillance and found Liana in bed, asleep, and a book pressed against her chest. I zoomed in and read the title: Sex on the Beach.
I got to my feet and made my way to her room, pushing my way in soundlessly. I found her in the fetal position, her brows furrowed as if she battled demons even in her dreams. A cool breeze swept through the cracked window. The moonlight cast a faint glow across her face, and my chest stirred at the sight. Her lips were slightly parted, and her breaths came out even and shallow.
I dropped to my haunches next to her and watched her sleeping face.
I used to tell the twins I could spot the differences in their facial features. I could no longer say that.
I skimmed a thumb across her cheekbone, glad to see the meals I’d been preparing for her were filling them out a bit more.
I stepped away and dropped into my usual seat in the corner. I knew it was wrong, but there was no way I could go back to sleeping alone. Not when I knew she warmed the sheets just doors down from me.