Page 97 of Trust Me

A chill ran up my spine; I suddenly didn’t feel so alone.

My eyes adjusted and fell on the broad silhouette of a man sitting in the same chair that Lucifer had held me in just a few nights ago.

Waves of panic flowed to the tips of my fingers and toes, making my head spin and my mouth dry.

The clouds parted, moonlight caressed the room, and the shadows slid away.

Lucifer.

He filled the space with his massive frame, hands swallowing the ends of the armrests, legs spread wide.

The air was saturated with emotion, my skin too tight for my body.

Who had come to me tonight? The ruthless mobster or the tender lover?

The dim lighting hid his expression, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t reel in the reckless desire that compelled me to go to Lucifer if I wanted to.

Our souls were tethered by the invisible cord called fate.

I slipped out of bed and padded my way across the room until I was standing directly in front of him. His damp hair was combed back, and he smelled like the soap he’d used to bathe me. I searched for conflict in his eyes, a message of hate or anger, but it wasn’t there. He looked almost ... serene.

I reached forward with caution, testing the waters between us. When he didn’t push me away or recoil, I rested my palm against his cheek.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

His hand curled around my wrist, but he didn’t lift it to his mouth and give it a sweet kiss this time. Instead, he lowered his arm, never releasing his grip.

I swallowed the tears gathering in the back of my throat. “I’m so sorry, Lucifer ... I’m sorry for all my lies ... my deception ...”

He pressed a finger to my lips. “You need to answer my questions.” His hoarse voice sent a shiver over my flesh, and I think I nodded. “Honestly and with full transparency. Understood?”

This time, I made sure to bob my head in agreement.

His finger fell away, and I ran my tongue over my lips, searching for a trace of him to hold on to. His eyes tracked the movement, then he forced his gaze upward and arrested me with his unwavering stare.

“What did Tiernan tell you regarding my mother’s death?”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts. Not only had I learned from my earlier mistake, but I’d spent most of my waking minutes since I’d been deposited in my bedroom trying to recall every detail of that consequential discussion between Tiernan and me.

I blew the air out of my cheeks, prepared to tell Lucifer everything I could remember. “It was a couple years ago. We were celebrating after a foxhunt ... he was drunk ... hammered, actually ...” My face flushed with heat, and I cleared my throat. “We both were ...”

The pit in my stomach churned at my admission. Getting downright wasted after the foxhunt had been my goal that day. Tiernan was creative when it came to crops, especially when he was under the influence, and I knew what awaited me when we returned home.

The memory threatened to unnerve me, but I forced myself to continue. “He was arguing with another man about your family ... I don’t know what about—I wasn’t paying attention. After the man left, he was being cocky—arrogant—and he told me that he could bring down the entire Flynn Syndicate single-handed. I asked him how, and that’s when he said he knew who really pushed Nessa Flynn down the stairs. He also told me that’s how he ‘coerced the spineless snake’ into helping him.” My voice thickened, polluted with the recollections of the night my parents were murdered. “A few years prior, I’d learned you had a twin ... and because of the tattoo ... that’s how I put it all together. Raphael was the spineless snake. He’s the one who pushed your mother down the stairs.”

His eyes softened—the only sign that something was happening behind the mask.

“My father,” he said, his tone soft and full of undeserving patience. “He is the one who killed my mother. He manipulated Raphael into helping him cover up his lie.”

When Raphael said it in the study, it sounded convenient. Who better to blame than a man on his deathbed? But it was an entirely different experience when Lucifer said it.

Shock hit me first, and it quickly morphed into anguish. If I could have been so very wrong about something so critical—what else could I have been wrong about?

Confusion and sorrow became a weight too heavy to bear. My knees shook as I fought to steady myself on my feet. “I’m sorry, Lucifer ... I’ve only made things worse ...”

He countered my claim with a headshake. “The opposite.” His hands settled on my hips with a gentle squeeze. “You helped open my eyes to the truth.”

I blinked away the tears that were ready to spill at any moment and cocked my head. I wasn’t sure my ears were working properly.

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