Page 115 of Heart of a Villain

He didn’t have to search or look around, and she got the sense that had the bakery been packed, he still wouldn’t have. Being with him was so easy it made her uneasy. There were no games, and there was no pretense. Despite him sometimes going overboard, he was truly and honestly naturally charming, and she could see them doing this with their own children one day.

Accusing him of still being in love with Ayesha had been a low blow. It hadn’t taken much time for her to realize that there was something there, and she could tell he loved her, but it was different. It was as if Ayesha was his best friend. Had he still been in full-blown love with her sister—she smiled to herself—it probably wouldn’t have mattered. He was hers, and out of the two of them, she wasn’t the only one who thought so. No part of her wanted nothing to do with him.

Simply put, she’d been running.

And she ran because she was scared.

She was scared that telling him what had happened would make him no longer want her. She’d even managed to convince herself that it was why he hadn’t made a move to touch her since that night. Then she ran because of the way his comment about him sleeping and her lying wake had rang true. It was odd that someone knew her this well and was attuned to her wants, needs, likes, dislikes, and fears.

In her journal, she’d written about wanting to be his wife:

I was born a killer’s daughter.

My fate follows me like an omen.

At first, I thought my fate was to be with him.

To know happiness through him.

Love through him.

Marriage and family through him.

Now, I see that it’s the same as it has always been—to be a killer’s daughter.

And soon, a killer’s wife.

Back then, when it was nothing more than a smoke dream, it was an omen. Now, she wanted to be with him, to share her life with him, and hopefully, one day, create life with him. The scariest part about that was how all it took was looking at him to tell he wanted the same.

“Did you guys get anything for me?” he asked, a shopping bag dangling from his fingers. When he noticed her trying to read the store information on the front, he hid it behind his back.

Theo nodded, dried icing falling from his cheek. “Yep! Auntie Seda said that your favorite isn’t here, though. What are they called again, Auntie?”

Josiah answered for her. “Brigadeiros.”

“Whoa.” Adrían pulled his head back, his brows closing in on his hairline. “That was near-perfect pronunciation. You’ve been learning Portuguese, mano?”

“A little bit. Me and Aunt Larke were listening to some songs, and I realized I want to learn.”

“Larke was listening to Portuguese songs?”

“Yeah. I think she’s making you a playlist.”

Adrían smiled.

Sayeda felt herself soften at the boyish twist of his mouth. He truly loved the family, and it wasn’t hard to see why. Ayesha had told her that his and Larke’s first few meetings were far from cordial, but Larke had a big heart. Big hearts sometimes needed more time to recover after being burned, but she got the sense that Larke never genuinely hated Adrían.

“Acoisa?”

Her blood turned to ice.

“Acoisa, is that you?”

CHAPTER

THIRTY

Adrían faced the voice.

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