that I could do it right now. Sadly, there’s a limit to how much a thing like Haley could take before I’d have to carry her out of here. The guard can be bribed, of course, but if I destroy her the way I want to...
Well. People would talk.
“Like a bath.” This convinces her to lift her head. I have to help her to her feet and rearrange the dress. I use my handkerchief to dab between her legs, which makes her hiss. I find her ruined panties and shove them into my pocket, then make a halfhearted attempt at smoothing out the pages of the books on the table. Casualties of a good fuck. There are worse ways to die. “One last look at your favorite thing.”
Haley’s blue eyes are huge, and they linger on me for so long that my skin tingles.
“The book,” I prompt.
She blinks. “Right. Yes.” Haley goes back to the table and bows her head over it, reverent, and uses her pinky finger to close the front cover. “Goodbye,” she whispers. “You’re beautiful.”
My chest seizes up. As soon as she’s asleep, I’m getting people out of bed. This book is going to be mine, and then it’s going to be hers. This copy of Jane Eyre is technically a witness to her very first real fuck. It can’t be left to the world.
Haley comes back to me on unsteady legs and takes my hand.
It’s a near miss. I almost let it show, how good it feels, and that’s too far. We’re already outside the bounds of the rest of my life. I’ll let my sisters hug me, if that’s what they need to do, but holding hands with a woman—
It’s not a good decision, if history is any indication. Still, I don’t think anything short of a bomb dropped on this building would inspire me to let go. Maybe not even that.
It’s a measured walk back through the main reading room. Haley tries her best to move quietly, and the mood is hushed, almost reverent. What happened in that room, in full view of a first-edition Jane Eyre, was a sacrament. It moves with me now. Stays close, like the pain that dogs me every day of my life.
This is different. I wouldn’t describe it as an emotion. More like water to wine.
We take the elevator back down. Eugene, the guard, opens the door for us as we go. If he’s been going between floors, if he heard anything, his face doesn’t show it. On the way past him, I tuck several hundred-dollar bills into the pocket of his jacket. He pats them with his hand and pulls the door closed behind us.
It’s a sharper, deeper cold, and I fold Haley into my side during the few steps to the SUV. Our coats, helpfully, wait for us in the backseat. I pull both of them over Haley’s lap. My driver meets my eyes in the rearview mirror and shifts to drive.
She leans against me when we turn onto the street, and I can feel her hesitating. Like she thinks I might push her away.
I’m not going to push her away.
“Leo.” There’s hope in her voice. Hope. It’s fucking terrifying, to hear that hope. It adds another layer of complexity to my revenge plot. The whole thing is getting out of hand.
My phone vibrates in my pocket before she can finish speaking.
I pull it out and frown at Trenton Alto’s name. There’s nothing planned for tonight, with him or with Lucian. Nothing business. Nothing social. I’m not interested in the street fights Trenton oversees. But in the interest of getting him to fuck off, I take the call.
“Don’t waste my time,” I say by way of greeting.
“Did you kidnap a Constantine?” Trenton laughs, and my gut goes cold. “It would be just like you to frame someone for a kidnapping.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Lucian told me about your contract. He thinks it’s funny as fuck. Some of your best work. But if you’ve gone beyond that, you should tell us so we can enjoy the show.”
A surge of hatred at how often I make people sign contracts, at how ambiguous his statement is. It’s highly unlikely that Trenton knows anything about Haley. My sisters and I have an unspoken agreement not to tell Lucian about things that go on in our houses, and Trenton hasn’t been to my place in months. It’s unlikely that he knows, but not impossible. “Who exactly did I kidnap?”
“The