Page 110 of I Will Mend You

Amethyst won’t want me gaping at the cuts covering her body, even though Isabel assures me they’re healing nicely without bandages. I leave her to shower and change beforeretreating to my room to prepare for the night ahead. After swapping my jeans and sweatshirt for a pair of soft cotton pants and a loose t-shirt, I pick up the red leather diary from my nightstand.

When I return to her room, she’s already changed into pajamas and a pair of fluffy socks. She sits cross-legged on the four-poster, her damp curls piled atop her head. Her pajamas show glimpses of her tantalizing curves, which are at odds with the cute socks. Soft light from the bedside lamp casts a glow on her face, accentuating her serene beauty.

My breath catches, and sensation rushes south. It’s almost impossible to tell she’s gone through so much darkness. She’s a vision of what I hoped life would be for us when I left Death Row. The kind of casual comforts of love and home that I yearned for but never thought I deserved.

I will my cock not to stir at her proximity, but the eager bastard has its own mind. She’s so preoccupied with that red diary that she doesn’t even notice my body’s inappropriate response.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Something of your mother’s I picked up from the women who referred you to Dr. Saint.”

She frowns. “I thought she and my mom were friends.”

“Perhaps, but these women knew her first.”

“Who are they?”

“Aria and Elana Salentino.” I cross the room and place the leather journal on the bed. “Your paternal aunts.”

“Oh.” She turns her gaze away from the diary and meets my eyes.

“You should read it. It explains a lot about your mother. And Dolly’s animosity.”

Swallowing, she closes her eyes. “Maybe later.”

I place it on her lap and lower myself on the edge of the mattress, within touching distance but without crowding. “Whenever you’re ready. I’m not hiding the truth anymore. If something is too painful, I’ll let you decide if you want to know.”

Nodding, she glances up from the diary and meets my eyes. “Did you hack into Dr. Saint’s records?”

“They don’t exist,” I reply, smoothing a stray curl behind her ears.

She shivers, her breath quickening. I draw back my hand, wondering if she’s ready for me to sleep in her bed.

“How do you know?” she asks.

“I’ve kept her in a holding cell since the night we went to the Ministry of Mayhem, and she hasn’t yet changed her story.”

Her jaw drops. She gapes at me, her eyes widening. “She’s...she’s been imprisoned all this time? Is she connected to X-Cite Media?”

“No.”

“Then why haven’t you let her go?”

“I was busy trying to find you,” I mutter. “And I kept her in case you had questions about your mental state.”

She licks her lips. “Did you record the interrogations?”

I nod.

“Can she add to the information in the diary?”

“Doubtful,” I mutter.

“Then let her go. She’s sneaky and unprofessional, but she doesn’t deserve to be imprisoned like that. She must be terrified.”

I hesitate for a few heartbeats, studying her features. There’s a strength and determination I didn’t see before her abduction, and a compassion for a woman who deserves to have her license revoked.

“Xero.” She places her palms on my chest.

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