The Other Side of Greed (The Seven Sins #5) - Lily Zante Page 0,98

like me would try to take advantage of that. But things are different now. That lie is dying, shedding like a snake’s skin. I care for her and I can’t have any harm come to her. I don’t want to derail her hopes and dreams. This is the real me, and that’s who I want her to know. That’s who I want her to see. “We went into foster care.”

“We?”

“I did,” I say quickly. I can’t talk about Kane yet. It’s too much. “My mom was committed.”

She looks at me like I’m a damaged, no-good thing that she can’t wait to fix and put right. “I’m so sorry. This is all so tragic. You never said.”

I shrug.

“How long did you go into foster care for?”

“Not long.” I don’t like to talk about my time at Grampton House. “It was supposed to be temporary, but my dad got worse, and social services knew we … I … couldn’t go back home. Then my mom died … and so I got put up for adoption.”

“Brad.” The tenor of her voice is soft and caring, her fingers flutter over my chest. Her touch grounds me even as my past flows into my present in waves heavy as tar.

“I’m so sorry.” She kisses my chest, then hugs me tightly. Her touch sets me aflame, and as her hand skates over my bare skin, I wonder if she can hear my beating heart.

Falling for Kyra is like being hit by a car, I didn’t know until it was too late. My mind was elsewhere, on a goal I thought I wanted, while she rammed into me with her goodness, sexiness and faith. How am I supposed to walk away from this? She is no fickle, shallow, malicious Jessica. “Like I said, my adoptive parents were the best. I never went hungry again.”

“Hungry?” Her eyes fill with horror. Now is not the time to tell her that I rummaged through trash cans to feed us.

“Yvette’s boy, he reminds me of …” I can’t say his name. Each time I think about him, I think of Kane. I dream about Kane. I have nightmares about Kane. The memories weigh me down, a heavy anchor chaining my soul.

“Of you?” Kyra offers.

“What’s his name?” He’s been ‘The Boy’ to me forever. Maybe if I take the time to remember his name, I can erase the parts I want to forget.

“Stefan,” Kyra replies. “You didn’t know?”

I let the name sink in, repeating it silently in my head. I shake my head. I might have been told but I’ve forced myself to pay no attention. Details like that do me no good.

She presses a hand into my chest. “I always wondered why you were so subdued on those nights.”

“I don’t like talking about that time.” I really don’t. And if I’d known that this pathetic little project of mine would lead me down the path of my past and stir up memories I had long buried, I might not have chosen to pursue it.

But it’s too late now. I’ve met this wonderful woman who makes everything seem so much better, even when I didn’t think my life needed to be better.

I’d come to believe that I had it all, but meeting her showed me how wrong I was.

This experiment hasn’t failed—though maybe by Neville’s standards it has—because what I’ve found instead has been priceless. No amount of money could buy what Kyra brings me.

“Do you want to go? Or stay?” I ask her. It’s her choice. This is a big deal to me. I’ve changed her perception of me. In this weekend, I’ve tried to tell her things slowly, to prepare her, but maybe I’ve revealed too much, too fast.

I’ve brought her back to my place, but nothing has to happen unless she wants it.

“I want to stay.”

“I want you to know that I was born into the kind of life the people we see every Wednesday were born into.”

“It makes sense now,” she says, softly.

“What does?” I lead her over to the sofas, feeling loose, and listless, and needing to sit down.

“Why you worked on those community projects. Why you went in search of something else.”

My skin tightens, my throat turns dry, the contents of my stomach churn, and I am reminded of what a con artist I am. The type of man someone like Kyra doesn’t deserve.

“You have such heart.” She perches on my lap, her legs on either sides of my thighs as she presses her lips against