Page 6 of Burned Dynasty: Part One

The words are sweet, like sugar and happiness, but they don’t compute with everything else he’s said and done. “You confuse me.”

“Says the woman who told me we could only be friends when we both wanted more.”

“Okay,” I admit. “That’s fair, but we were kids. We’re not kids anymore.”

“We’re not just friends, either.” He releases my hand and grips my waist, and I swear his hand on my body is already burning through my brain cells. His forehead presses to mine, and he murmurs, “I did things, Alana.” His voice radiates with a mix of guilt and torment. And while, no, this is not the first time he’s said something like this to me, there’s a gut-wrenching quality to his confession that tears down the wall the whole ring thing has slammed between us.

My hand presses to his cheek, and I meet his stare, hoping that he sees the truth in my eyes.

“Whatever you did, it’s in the past. I don’t care.”

“I do,” he insists. “I care. I don’t want you to know those things, and my worst fear is that I might not be able to hide them from you.”

“I don’t need you to hide anything from me, Damion. That feeling—like you need to do that—it’s not us. That’s not who I want to believe we are together. And that’s not how we make this work.”

“It might be the only way we make this work.”

“You want to live with someone you have to keep secrets from? Really? That’s your idea of happiness? The person you live your life with should be able to deal with the good, the bad, and the ugly. It’s not like my family doesn’t have its ugly.”

“It’s not the same, Alana.”

“It’s the same to me.”

“No.” His expression tightens. “It wouldn’t be if you knew the details, which you will not.”

“That doesn’t work for me, Damion.”

“Try harder to make it work,” he demands.

Anger churns in my belly, and I try once again to escape his embrace. I barely move. He’s too big and too strong for me to push myself out of this confrontation.

“I thought I could protect you by staying away, but that didn’t work,” he confesses. “My father still has his claws in your family. I need you close, but I don’t know how close I dare.”

“Living with you is pretty close.”

“Probably too close, but I need to be able to protect you.”

That’s twice he’s made that statement, and this time, I bristle and press my hand to his chest.

“Is that what this is? A way to protect me?”

He covers my hand with his. “You know better. Do you really think I’d give you that ring and tell you the story behind it if I didn’t want to marry you, Alana? If I didn’t want to see the look in your eyes when I told you what I’d wanted then, and what I have always wanted with you.”

“And what did you see, Damion? What do you see now?”

“A woman who doesn’t believe I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Will you?”

“I need to know nothing can blow back on you.”

My gut twists in painful knots. “That’s not the answer I want, and most importantly, it’s not the answer I need to be able to say yes to living with you. It sounds like an excuse.”

“It’s not a damn excuse. I’m standing here, right here, right now, telling you it’s bigger than that, Alana. It’s so damn much more.”

In that moment, it’s easier for me to believe he’s afraid of what I might learn than afraid of a real future with me. Maybe because it’s true. Maybe because it’s what I want to believe. “The part where I’m not the little girl next door anymore just doesn’t seem to compute with you, and maybe it never will.”

“No,” he says, “you’re not the little girl next door. You’re the woman I want in my bed every day when I wake up.”

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