Chapter 20

I slowly drift awake when sunlight pours through the gap in the curtains, and warmth covers my back like a soothing blanket. A heavy weight is draped around me, holding me close to a warm, hard chest.

Memories of the previous night coax me to blink my eyes open. I’m in my bedroom.

Shifting onto my back beneath Darian’s heavy arm, I roll my head on the pillow and suck in a breath at how peaceful he looks when he sleeps. Peaceful and boyish.

His lips are slightly parted, and his dark hair stands in all directions. Something about this less-than-perfect version of Darian tugs on my heartstrings.

I slowly roll onto my side and rest my cheek on my palm as I gaze at his handsome face. With my bottom lip trapped between my teeth, I drift my fingers over his cheek, feeling the scrape of his stubble.

If anything, this rugged version of Darian is even more heartbreakingly beautiful. He doesn’t need the crisp shirts, expensive watches, and styled hair to steal my resolve to stay away from him. No, my undoing is the air of vulnerability behind those moving eyelids and the wisps of hair falling over his brow.

He stirs, so I pause, waiting until his breathing deepens again. A part of me wants him to wake up and cover me with his big body, but another part of me wants to stay in this moment—a moment where he’s not the guarded version of Darian who exists in the daylight, but this softer, boyish man with hopes, dreams, and fears.

I shift closer until my lips hover a hair’s breadth from his and then I peer at him to ensure his eyes are closed before I press my lips to his soft ones.

The moment his mouth brushes up against mine, my heart stutters, fragile and trembling, like a leaf in the wind. How can I feel so much all at once for a man I’ve sworn to hate? When did it happen? I haven’t lived with Darian that long. Yet somehow, he disarmed me the moment I laid eyes on him, and I still recall how his gaze seared a path over my skin as I polished glasses.

A trembling breath escapes me as I kiss his upper lip, then his lower.

If I don’t guard my heart, I’ll fall in love with Darian Delacroix, which would be a very, very bad idea. But maybe I was born with a rebellious heart.

My thoughts evaporate into fine mist when firm but gentle fingers skim my cheek. Darian traces the seam of my lips with his tongue, and a full-body shiver raises the hairs on my bare arms. He takes the opportunity when I gasp to slide his hand around my nape and deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth, imprisoning my every shaky breath.

I moan and press up against him, running my hands over the rippling muscles in his back. He quivers with restrained desire, and I can’t help but wonder what it’d take for him to open his cage and let his leashed power rush out to crush me beneath his weight.

“Darian,” I whisper as he trails kisses down my neck and back up to my abused lips, silencing his name on my panted breath with his tongue, his hands in my hair as he angles my head to kiss me deeper.

Who knew Darian’s mouth on mine could be so addictive and that the feel of his weight could be so delicious? He settles on top of me, careful not to suffocate me with his big body.

My mind is afloat in a sea of heady desire while I explore the shifting muscles in his broad back. Darian whispers my name between nipping kisses, his large hands roaming every inch of my body and pulling on my hair. We make out like teenagers.

We kiss like there’s no tomorrow.

As though yesterday never existed and now is all there is.

This moment.

Us.

I’ve never experienced a kiss like this, never felt it burn away my defenses like wildfire, but here we are—aflame in an inferno of desire.

Darian breaks the carnal kiss to trail the bridge of his nose over mine, a softened look entering his eyes.

While Darian’s default expression is one of complete boredom, the way he’s looking at me now is unlike anything I’ve seen in the short time I’ve been chased and tormented by his demons. For once, Darian isn’t hiding behind a mask. What stares back at me is the boy behind the hardened exterior.

His throat rolls as he flicks his gaze between mine, but before I can recover from the emotions in those blue depths, he slams his lips back onto mine and hooks my soul with an iron fist. The truth stares me in the face as he rips it from my chest—no other man will ever hold a candle to this broken monster.

This is damnation.

Maybe I’m already in love? Is it possible? Could I love a man so deeply involved with the Exodus?

I don’t find an answer to my question because his lips descend on mine with unyielding passion, making me lose all train of thought as I clutch his T-shirt.

Every man I’ve kissed has tried to remove my clothes and take advantage, but Darian is content moving on top of me in his T-shirt and briefs like a wave lapping at a shore. His hands touch and squeeze, driving me insane with need, but he never tries to take it further. Not this time. I’m truly screwed.

He has my heart surrounded on all fronts, and no deep trenches or reinforced forts can protect me against this moment. So I do something I’ve never let myself do—I throw my weapons down in surrender and let Darian Delacroix invade and conquer.

Defeat has never tasted so sweet as it does when he whispers my name into the kiss and tangles his fingers in my hair.

Maybe I can take up arms tomorrow when the enemy lies asleep, sated and defenseless. Or maybe I’m lying to myself.

After lunch, Darian leaves the house to attend whatever shady business he’s involved in. I shudder just thinking about it. For all I know, he could be involved in human trafficking side of Exodus.

Wait. What if he is? No, he wouldn’t. But the doubt lingers.

While he’s a damn good kisser and hung like a horse, the truth remains that I don’t know anything about Darian or his involvement in the Exodus and my father’s disappearance. These thoughts have gone through my head a lot lately. My head and my heart are at war.

My lips still tingle from his heated kisses earlier, and my bruised heart thumps harder every time I recall how he felt and looked on top of me, how he touched me like he wanted to carve his initials on my soul.

No, dammit. Now is not the time to think about my husband and the witch spell he has cast on my withering resolve to avenge my father’s murder.

“You better know what you’re looking for,” Lauren says, taking up her stationed position behind the door to listen out for sounds.

Once Darian left the house, I hightailed it to his office with his password memorized and a heavy weight of self-doubt on my chest. I shake that feeling off now as I settle in his desk chair and exhale a nervous breath. I can do this. I can find the kind of information Beaumont needs.

But why? Why does he want it?

You know why. Don’t be na?ve. He wants to blackmail Darian. Whatever he hopes to find on my husband’s laptop is bad enough to ruin him. So the question is, do I hand it over to Beaumont, or use it against Darian myself?

Flashbacks of when Beaumont cornered me in the dress shop and tweaked my nipples invade my head, making my skin crawl at the sensation of his phantom fingers.

I rest my elbows on the desk and massage my temples. If I don’t find compromising information, Beaumont will make true to his promise and do what? Rape me? Kill me? He’s wrong, though. I’m not Darian’s weakness. Given the choice, Darian wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in my skull. I’m not special to him. A couple of kisses and a fumble in bed don’t change the fact that he forced me into marriage because of my last name and the family fortune attached to it. I’m not foolish enough to think that he cares about me.

So why does this feel inherently wrong? Why do I feel like I’m betraying Darian?

Fuck it.

I type in his password, chewing my lip as the computer loads the home screen. Beaumont didn’t give me much to go on; he said he wanted sensitive information, something to use against Darian.

“Great help,” I mutter as I begin my search.

“What the hell is that?” Lauren says, blinking at a plant on a console table near the door.

I glance at it. “It’s a bat flower.”

“A bat flower?”

“Yes. I found it in a sale online the other day. It looked like an alien from Mars that could potentially come alive at night and beam my insufferable husband up to the mothership. So I thought: what a great way to spend my husband’s blood money. Unfortunately, he’s still here. Those teeth, whiskers, and the weird little eyes seem just for aesthetics. The thing can’t even catch flies like a Venus trap, but I liked burning his money, so I sent another hundred to his friend Sinclair and his son Elijah.”

“You sent a hundred of them to Sinclair and his son?”

“No, I sent a hundred of them to Sinclair and a further hundred to his son.”

“Two hundred of them ugly things? You’ll give them nightmares.”

I open a folder and skim the information. “Careful, or you’ll hurt the plant’s feelings.”

Lauren snorts a laugh.

I continue. “Word on the street is that Sinclair’s son is a psychopath who gets off on torturing women. I doubt a bat flower with whiskers and teeth will break his unfeeling shell.”

She bends and stares at it intently. “It’s kind of cute in a weird way, don’t you think?”

Clicking out of the folder, I open the next one. “I think you should keep a lookout.”

She returns to the door and presses her ear to the wood. Silence settles in the room while I read through files. It doesn’t take long to confirm that my husband is involved in an illegal weapon trade. No surprise there. He also owns an underground fighting ring. Interesting. Maybe it’s a lucrative business? The Darian I know likes to stay in complete control, except at midnight when his ghosts come out to haunt him. He’d never lower himself to fist fights for entertainment.

I’m insanely curious about why he stays up drinking at night. It seems at odds with the Darian I first met—a man who would line up the items on his desk until they were perfectly symmetrical. That man would never reach for the bottle and drink himself into a stupor.

But they are the same man. And he does drink himself into a stupor.

Besides, I haven’t missed the concerned glances Sinclair slides in his direction when my husband isn’t looking. While Sinclair is all smiles and jokes, he has a more serious side, which I’ve only caught glimpses of in Darian’s presence.

“Cecilia?” Lauren asks, interrupting my thoughts with the careful tone in her voice.

I open another folder before giving her a raised brow to indicate that I’m waiting for her to continue. With a sigh, she leans back against the door. “Don’t you think you’re too involved with Darian?”

My hackles immediately rise, but I keep my face blank. “Involved? Why?”

“I hear you two fucking at night.” She gives me a pointed look, then enunciates, “Every. Night.”

“It’s just sex, Lauren.” I’m losing patience. Maybe there’s no file here with sensitive information like Beaumont seems to think. He said I would know which file it is when I find it, but nothing has stood out to me so far.

“I see how you look at him.”

“I don’t look at him in any way,” I quickly dismiss her.

When she stays silent, I lift my gaze with a frown to find her crossing her arms, hip cocked.

“How about the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not looking?”

“You’re delusional.”

My stupid fucking heart is beating harder at her words. Can it be true? Is he looking at me?

No. Lauren is wrong.

She turns around and carefully opens the door a smidge then peers through the small gap. “You should break it off before you get hurt.”

Frowning, I stop typing as a flare of annoyance flashes through me. “Before I get hurt? Are you serious? Lauren, you don’t know anything about me.”

I say these words, though deep down, I know the truth. I’m not annoyed at her for pointing out the obvious. Darian will hurt me. My heart isn’t safe with a man like him.

He’s an Elder. One of the higher-ups in the Exodus.

Now repeat that until your heart stops skipping a beat every time Darian enters a room.

I’m annoyed because she wants me to end my dalliance with Darian and pull the plug before it’s too late to walk away, but I’m beginning to realize that I don’t want to.

I’m about to say something else when my thoughts crash to a halt as I click on another file. “What the hell?” I whisper, gulping hard.

“What’s wrong?” Lauren looks at me over her shoulder.

This is it. This is what Beaumont wants to dangle over Darian’s head like a noose.

“Nothing,” I reply, quickly copying the information onto a USB stick with shaky hands.Lauren looks unconvinced as she watches me switch everything off.

I fidget with the items on the desk to ensure nothing is out of place and no evidence is left behind. My husband has hawk eyes and a special knack for sniffing betrayal from a mile away. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t barged in here already.

The USB burns a hole in my pocket as I exit the room with Lauren, but instead of feeling triumphant, guilt gnaws at me.

Can I do this? Can I betray my husband?

You don’t have a choice.