Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“That doesn’t make any sense, and you know it,” he says with a furrowed brow. “Think, Elle. You’ve been profiling me for years; you’ve got a whole character assessment of me strung up on the wall of your home office. Does it fit with your narrative that I would have been the one to want your mother dead?”
I shake my head because now I’m feeling overwhelmed and confused. He’s right. It doesn’t fit with the criminal profile I spent so much time compiling of the Ghost.
I rub my temples with my fingers and try to think straight. I wasn’t expecting any of this to happen.
“Why did you kiss me then?” I ask. Conspiracy theories over Nico’s motives cross my mind and make me feel irrational.
The kiss was wonderful—hell, it was more than wonderful, but there had to be a reason for it. The Ghost is only loyal to himself; he admitted that much already.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not a good enough answer,” I say as I get ready to head quickly for the door. I wonder if he’ll try to stop me. I wonder if part of the plan was keeping me here like some sort of hostage.
Nico cuts me off and blocks the door with his body, not because he’s going to force me to stay, but because he has something to say to me first.
“I kissed you because I needed to,” he says as his blue eyes darken and focus on mine.
I feel like everything inside of me is slowly coming undone. I feel like I’m swimming around in those intoxicating eyes of his, unable to come up for air and drowning in desire.
“I kissed you because I can’t seem to make myself stay away from you,” he continues. “Even though I know that it’s probably best for both of us if I do. But the fact is, Elle, that I’ve tried keeping my distance from you and keeping you at arm’s length, and my restraint is waning.”
Instead of pushing past him and running out the door, I hesitate. I just kissed my enemy, or is he? Now, I don’t know what’s real anymore.
CHAPTER 14
NICO
Damn it, I tried so hard to keep it together. Never in my life have I had so little self-control, not even the night that my brother was killed. On that night, I at least thought I knew what I was doing and felt that I was doing the right thing to save him.
But here tonight with Elle, I'm pretty sure that I know this is exactly the wrong thing to do, and yet I can’t seem to stop myself anyway. I’ve spent my whole adult life living by the code that my brother’s dying words taught me—stay detached, don’t make things personal. And until now, those words were my North Star. They made sense, and I followed them without fail. But tonight, alone with Elle in my safe house, I feel like I’ve misunderstood my entire life journey, and that instead of it being one of devoted isolation, it’s becoming one of slowly waking up. Elle is waking me up.
I’m feeling things I’ve never felt before, never allowed myself to feel. I’d resigned my purpose to one of carrying my brother’s mantle, isolating myself with guilt and retribution. Dare I even wonder if redemption for someone like me is possible? If it is, then the internal battle that I’m having over my feelings for Elle is the thing drawing me out, pushing me past my solitude and daring me to once again allow myself to trust. For me, trust, albeit rare, is absolute. And as I stand here watching the fear and skepticism play out across her face, it’s like watching my hesitation to trust someone mirrored back at me. Neither of us is ready to take that plunge and let go of the protective walls we have put up around our hearts and souls, but both of us desperately wish that we could.
“Tell me something,” she says, with audible intensity and anger in her voice. “And tell me the truth, or else I’m going to walk out this door and continue assembling your criminal profile until I find a reason to have you locked up for life.”
Her hands are trembling, and her chest is heaving. She’s upset, but her threat is an empty one.
“I’m only going to ask you this one more time. Did you have anything at all to do with my mother’s death?”
The truth is not always a linear plane. Sometimes there are gradients to it, like a monochromatic drawing that illuminates several shades of gray before finally letting go and transitioning to become light enough to be white. I didn’t kill Elle’s mother, and I don’t know who the man was who pulled the trigger. But I do know who was behind it, or at least I have very strong suspicions. I don’t know the reason it happened, but I know that Elle’s father did more than simply cover up the investigation. That is a truth that she isn’t ready for yet, not until I can prove it to her without question. She also isn’t ready to hear that I was there to observe so that I could track the motive back to its source. It wasn’t only inaction that gave me pause that night; it was also the fact that I had a job to do and a bigger fish to catch. Still, though, I can answer her honestly, as long as I choose my words carefully.