KYRIE.
Jessa was a good girl. A little too good for the kind of shit she’d gotten tangled in.
She was desperate. That much was clear now. She didn’t fuck two strangers for fun that night. She did it to get her mother the meds she needed. That was it. Straight up survival. And it made everything else about her make sense… the nervousness, the nativity, the way she didn’t even know how to lie without stuttering.
She wasn’t some seasoned whore. She was innocent and naive. And now, knee–deep in a mess too big
for her to clean up alone.
That’s where I come in.
I promised to save her from Saint. I was already preparing a long trip for her mother to the UK, at least. Private facility. All expenses on me. Just until I can figure things out with Saint and clean this shit up.
And as for Jessa? She stays with me for now until Saint’s madness dies down.
Cole’s picking her up tomorrow morning and bringing her straight to my house. There was no way in hell I was letting her stay one more night anywhere near Lanry Side. She’d be safer with me. And yeah, maybe I needed her around too. It’s been eight months of searching. I wasn’t about to let her vanish again.
I would be able to protect her better here than at Lanry Side.
Jessa is way too innocent and decent. It took a hell of a lot to convince her. She didn’t want to live under the same roof with a man who wasn’t her mate. I respected the fuck out of her for that. In fact, I liked it. She had morals, even after everything.
I promised to keep my hands to myself.
And I meant that, too.
I just had to return home to put the place in order. The place reeked of women. Different perfumes on the sheets. Lipstick stains on glasses. Lingerie tossed behind the couch. It looked like a fucking nightclub. It was not the place to bring someone like Jessa.
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Chapter 18
Took me a couple of hours to wipe all that shit clean. Tossed out everything, aired the place, changed the sheets, even bought groceries I never intended to touch.
I wouldn’t want to give her the wrong impression when she arrives.
By the time I was done, it was already late in the evening.
I heard Saint’s car drive past my house and head straight into his compound. He lived right next
door – unfortunately.
I didn’t even change out of the simple black shirt I had on. Just grabbed my keys and headed straight
over.
We needed to talk.
As soon as I got to his door, I didn’t bother knocking. I never knocked. It was Saint’s house, not a goddamn courthouse.
Saint and I didn’t do polite.
I shoved the door open, ready to drop the Jessa conversation right in his lap, when I stopped cold.
My jaw locked.
What. The. Fuck.
My eyes caught her first.
Eve.
I fucking swallowed.
She was descending the stairs slowly, like she wasn’t sure of her own steps. Her hair was a mess… I
could swear a man gripped her hair from the back while doing unholy things to her. That’s how it
looked.
Her nightie was small, thin as air, one strap hanging off her shoulder like it gave up halfway. She looked like she’d just been…
I clenched my jaw.
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7:24 Sun, Sep 21
Chapter 18
Saint was by the mini bar, swirling a glass of Scotch like the asshole he was. He didn’t even glance
- up.
Eve’s eyes locked on mine. Those eyes that almost made me think she was the one from that night. Funny how they both had almost identical eyes. Eyes that made you want to fight the whole world just to keep them safe.
And for a second – just one fucking second we froze there, staring at each other like we knew something we weren’t supposed to know.
She looked at me like she wasn’t expecting to see me, and fuck, I wasn’t expecting to see her here either.
She looked wrecked and used, like someone who had been handled.
She looked like she’d just been fucked.
By Saint.
I don’t know what the hell passed between us in that second, but it sure as fuck wasn’t normal. My stomach twisted with a cold, sour knot.
What the fuck is this?
Why the hell did I feel…something? It wasn’t jealousy. No. Fuck no. I didn’t know this girl from anywhere. She was Saint’s stepsister, for crying out loud.
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But something about seeing her here, like this all disheveled and exposed in his house – didn’t sit right with me.
It was probably disgust. Yeah. That had to be it.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.