Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Well, there can be no freak accidents when your grandchildren are about to play in that maze,” I add, regretful that my sister’s husband isn’t here to overhear it and turn the next hour of her life into a nightmare with his complaints.
Instead of my father, Colin speaks up. “Um, sir? Please excuse me interrupting, but it seems to me that Killian is having a panic attack. Would you like me to attend to him, or…?”
I dash toward him and take my trembling boy out of his arms. “No. No, I’ll take care of him,” I say, and my heart melts when Killian’s arms slide around my neck. His breath is ragged, choppy, and he wheezes as I carry him out of the room and straight into a hallway used by staff.
Chapter 13
Damen
I push through the kitchen door shoulder-first and take a lungful of air while my scared bird shakes in my arms, his mind likely still back in the hole, about to die.
“Everybody out,” I shout, glaring at the chef and his assistants. The main man scowls, ready to protest the violent takeover of his kitchen, but one of the sous chefs squeezes his arm. Moments later they’re all gone, and I’m surrounded by stainless steel counters with piles of diced meat and vegetables. There’s space available in the corner dedicated to desserts, so that’s where I carry Killian, seating him between a display fridge full of Christmas-themed cupcakes and a rack with various baking utensils.
“Breathe, baby,” I whisper, cupping his face as I bring our foreheads together.
He latches on to my gaze like it’s a lifeline. “You… you think it’s y-y-your b-b-brother?” he chokes out eventually, but keeps wheezing. My hate for Titus is hotter than the sun, but Killian’s wellbeing is more important than my feelings, so I kiss his cheek and sigh.
“He’s never getting near you again.”
It takes a while longer for Killian to catch his breath and I put my hand on his chest to make sure his heart isn’t rattling anymore.
“Damen… those were real saws. Actual saws. They would have slowly shredded me to pieces.” Two massive tears stream down his cheeks as he looks at me, bewildered.
I can’t believe Titus dared to raise his hand on someone so fragile. Someone who smells of flowers. Someone who’s mine in almost all ways.
One way or another, I’m going to get back at him for this. For now, I focus on my Killian and wipe the dampness from his cheeks. “I know, baby. From now on, I won’t leave your side. Sooner or later, he will have to give up on this.”
He’s trembling, as if afraid to speak what’s on his mind, so I stroke his hair in encouragement. “I don’t think I can do this, Damen.”
I freeze, my hands on his thighs as he looks down with shame painted all over his face.
Fuck.
Titus did this.
I’m going to have his balls.
“I don’t understand,” I say flatly, even though I absolutely do. He’s backtracking, and were we not so far away from civilization, he’d be already working on a way to run from me.
Story of my fucking life. I can never have it all.
But he and I… I thought we could make it.
“I’m not cut out for this. I might be able to take on board what your job is, but I can’t take on freaking saws or whatever else is in store for me. I know I put on a confident face, but I’m not brave. I’m a coward.” He rubs away another tear, messing up his eyeliner, and I see what he’s saying. He’s so gentle under all the spikes and bravado.
Sure, it would be worse if he was afraid of me, but this isn’t optimal for my plans either.
“Killian, look at me,” I say, tilting his head so he can drown in my gaze. I end up falling into his instead. “There will be no more saws. I’ll deal with him. You’re safe with me.”
I expect him to pull away, but he wraps his lovely arms around my neck and pulls me close. “I already believe you. And that’s why we can’t do this anymore. I will be your fake husband for the holidays, like I promised, but I can’t do the… intimacy,” he says, and it’s as if the saws are now headed for my heart. “If we do, I will attach to you, I know I will. It’s what I do. And I can’t take that. Your family, all of it, it’s just too… it’s too much, Damen. I may seem like I’m choosing men like I have a death wish, but I don’t want to die.”
The selfish part of me wants to argue, to touch him now and show him how futile his decision to withdraw from me is, but there’s such heartbreak in his gaze that I can’t bring myself to turn this into an opportunity for flirting. I don’t want him to feel manipulated into something he doesn’t want. I need him to choose me for real. Choose the Damen no one else knows, the gay man who happens to be a member of an old family that made its fortune in organized crime. He is the only one who’s seen it all, and I want him at my side.