Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Every instinct I had was screaming at me to fix it. To go after her. To make it right before the damage set too deep to undo.
But I had no fucking idea where to even start.
I could’ve stormed that bedroom, poured out my heart, said all the right words, but she thought I was a liar. And as much as that felt like a jagged blade straight through my chest, my words didn’t carry any weight with her anymore.
And if actions spoke louder than words, I didn’t exactly have a highlight reel working in my favor there either.
But that wasn’t the whole story.
I hadn’t always been this guy—jaded, guarded, screwing things up at the worst possible moment. My life wasn’t defined by a few bad weeks with Levee or one omission with Lofton, no matter how badly those things had blown up in my face.
I was a good man.
I’d spent my whole damn life making sure of that.
Taking care of the people who depended on me. Doing the right thing when it mattered. Showing up when no one else did. And I had a house full of people who could back that up.
People who’d seen me at my best—and at my worst—and still trusted me with their life when it counted.
“Hey, Rhion?” I called.
She smiled and came walking over, her yellow dress sweeping the floor. “What’s up?”
“You know how you write all those books about romance and shit?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t usually include shit, but yes, I do in fact remember that I write books.”
“Good, now I need you to forget everything about that.”
Her brows shot up, but a slow smile curled her lips.
27
LOFTON
I tipped back the bottle of wine, lamenting that I hadn’t had the foresight to grab a glass while dodging the prying eyes of Guardian Protection Agency.
Lifting my head, I glanced around the room, positive that there was a camera somewhere. “Hey, Apollo? Any chance I can get a glass?” I turned the bottle sideways to see how much was left. “And another bottle.”
Not surprisingly, he didn’t answer.
Also, not surprisingly, he didn’t magically appear like the wine fairy.
I guessed Guardian had it’s limits.
I started pacing again.
I hated that damn room. The seashells, the fish, the nails-on-a-chalkboard sound of the waves in the distance. Seriously, how did anyone love the beach that much?
But more, I hated that room because the last time I’d been there I’d been a different kind of broken—raw, hollow, and convinced I would never feel safe again. I’d spent days in that bed eating nothing and crying over everything, believing the world had fundamentally changed in a way I wasn’t going to recover from.
And then Devon had walked into my life and started putting the pieces back together.
Which was extremely inconvenient in retrospect.
Because now I was back in that room, broken again, and he was the reason. I had no idea what to do with that except pace and drink wine directly from the bottle.
Every so often, the sound of laughter would filter through the door.
That pissed me off too. I was glad Guardian Protection Agency was enjoying dinner. It would have been a shame for all that food to go to waste. Besides, I’d been excited to meet them and thank them for helping Devon with my security at the soundstage. I’d also been excited about seeing Devon in his element with his friends. They didn’t know we were together, but I could have still pried some embarrassing Devon Grant stories out of them without it looking suspicious.
Turned out, the only embarrassing story I got was the one I wished I could forget.
I took a long pull from the bottle and kept pacing, my mind racing in every direction trying to make sense of the pain in my chest. Over the last twenty minutes, I’d struggled to put my finger on why I was so upset. Or was it angry? Or hurt? Or betrayed? Or—the list went on and on.
He’d lied to me.
Except he hadn’t, technically. He’d just never said anything. He’d carried on with his life, showing me one man, while secretly keeping his secrets hidden.
Which was exactly what Sebastian had done.
Only that wasn’t fair. Devon’s omission about Levee and Sebastian’s betrayals weren’t even in the same ballpark. And yet, my mind kept taking me back to that parallel, like I was pressing on a bruise to see if it still hurt.
It did. Every time.
Because Devon was supposed to be different.
And he had been. Almost.
A knock at the door pulled me out of my spiral.
I crossed to the door and called, “Go away, Devon.”
“Um, it’s not Devon,” a woman replied.
I put down the wine so I didn’t look like a drunk pirate, and then opened it.
A short woman covered in the most beautiful, colorful tattoos was standing on the other side. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, bright red cascading out from under the blond. A soft smile that reached her eyes immediately graced her face.