phone numbers, and possibly our safe spot locations, too, since he’s got spooky good people finding skills. He knows our apartment address. He probably knows where we all work. And we can’t hide forever.”
I know what she’s suggesting. I know she’s right, too. But boy, I don’t want to do it.
I want this thing—whatever it is—between me and the Big Bad Wolf to be over before it’s begun.
Grudgingly, I pull the small white card from my pocket and stare at his number.
Stupid Romeo. I’d like to smash in your face. I tell Max, “Fine. I’ll call him. Satisfied?”
“Don’t forget to thank him for the gift.”
I hang up before I throw anything else across the room and dial Killian’s number.
12
Jules
He answers on the first ring, his rich brogue tinged with warmth. “Hullo, lass.”
“Hi.” I’m tongue-tied for a moment. He doesn’t make it any easier on me by remaining silent. “Um. Thank you for the gift.”
“You’re welcome.”
“This doesn’t mean I trust you.”
“I know.”
“My friend was the one who suggested I call. I didn’t want to.”
“I understand.”
I run out of things to say, so I sit in silence, chewing my lip, until he chuckles.
“Stop chewing your lip.”
I suck in a startled breath and look around in panic. “Are you watching me?”
“No. It’s just what you do when you can’t decide if you want to break something over my head or kiss me.”
The weight of his ego could cause entire solar systems to collapse. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. I don’t want to kiss you.”
“I know you can’t see my face, but my expression is one of extreme displeasure. We agreed on no lying, remember?”
I’m going to rip that damn unicorn pony to shreds. With my teeth. And send this smug bastard the video. “If I ever did kiss you, it would only be to satisfy a morbid curiosity about what disappointment tastes like.”
He roars with laughter.
It’s so unexpected, I simply sit and listen to it for a moment, enjoying the quality of the sound, but also confused. “Why do you like it when I say things like that?”
He’s still chuckling when he answers. “Because no one else would ever dare.”
Like so much else about him, that he has a sense of humor is a surprise. And yes, his ego is enormous, but he can laugh at himself, too. I also have to admit that his manners are quite good.
He’s obviously sophisticated, even more obviously intelligent, and—for a ruthless killer with a reputation for extreme violence—he’s oddly self-controlled.
My father would never deny himself a woman he wanted.
If she resisted, he’d laugh and take her anyway. His appetites are legendary. So is his hair-trigger temper and his exquisite sensitivity to anything that could even slightly be interpreted as an insult: he slit his own tailor’s throat for suggesting it might be necessary to let out the seams on his jacket.
But this man reacts to my insults with a laugh.
He reacts to my refusal to kiss him with acceptance.
He didn’t lay a finger on me, though his desire to lay all ten of them on me was more than apparent.
He kept his word not to harm me and also to release me when he brought me to his home, though keeping me captive could have been extremely lucrative for him. I have no doubt my father would have paid dearly for my safe return, if only because the family honor demanded it.
If I didn’t know better, I’d describe Killian Black as a gentleman.
A beautiful, dangerous, unconventional gentleman who can sear holes through a woman’s body with the heat of his eyes.
He says, “Uh-oh. She’s thinking. That never ends well.”
His tone is soft and teasing. Gentle and warm. I’m hit with the impossible thought that Killian Black has a tender side.
I blurt, “I don’t understand you.”
His voice grows even softer. “But you want to.”
“Yes.” Horrified that slipped from my lips, I backpedal as fast as I can. “No!”
We’re quiet for a moment, until I say, “I don’t know.” Aggravated, I close my eyes and draw a breath. “The truth is yes, but I don’t want to admit that, because it would make me like myself less. It would make me feel like I was going against everything I stand for.”
“Because…?”
“Because of who you are. What you are. What you do. All of it.”
In the following pause, I sense his ambivalence. He’s fighting himself about something, but I don’t know what. Then his voice comes over the line in a husky rumble.
“What if I wasn’t what