Page 42 of Killian De Luca

Killian is still on his phone, barely looking at me which makes me want to grab the phone and literally throw it out the window.

“So.” I clear my throat.

Killian looks at me. “So?”

“So have you ever been to Paris?”

Killian types on his phone. “Yea, a few times.” He puts the phone in his pocket when he’s done and then gives me his full attention. “What about you?”

“I’ve been a bunch. I love Paris. The food is one of my favorite things about Paris.”

“Who have you gone with?”

“Just family.” I wonder if he’s ever came here with someone special. Usually, Paris is for couples who are in love and possibly about to get married. Paris is a place full of love. It’s quiet for a few more minutes before I get over the silence and awkwardness. “So, we should probably talk about-”

“About what?” Killian furrows his eyebrows, looking genuinely confused about what we should be talking about.

“About the whole gun, Russian Roulette thing.” He stays silent, still looking genuinely confused as if it never happened. “Where you made me do that thing on the gun.”

Killian licks his bottom lip slowly and nods his head. “And? What about it?”

So, he does remember.

“I feel like we should probably set boundaries maybe? I mean it got out of hand-”

“Reign.” Killian cuts me off and I feel myself blush and narrow my eyes on him. “What happened that night, will keep happening. You wanna know why?” Killian says quietly, leaning closer to me.

“Why?” I say in a low tone, still staring up at him.

“Because from the moment you looked up at the stars with those big blue eyes of yours, I knew I was going to make you mine one way or another Reign.” Killian reaches his hand towards my lips and his thumb grazes my bottom lip. “What happened Monday night will keep happening because I want you. And I always get what I want, Reign.” His touch feels like fire on my lip, but I don’t lean away from him.

I like the feel of his touch.

Killian is aggressive and dark, and it makes me want to know more.

It makes me want more.

“Ms. Pierce and Mr. De Luca, we’re here,” the driver says, ruining the small moment between Killian and I.

Killian leans away and his touch disappears. He gets out of the car and a valet opens my door.

Killian and I walk inside, side by side, towards the front desk. The woman behind the desk smiles widely before saying, “Hi, welcome to Ritz Paris, are you guys checking in today?” the woman says with a strong accent.

“We made a reservation. It’s under Malcom Pierce,” Killian says.

The woman types a few keys on her computer before looking up at us. “You guys booked the Windsor Suite?” Killian nods his head. “Perfect. Here is your key card to the private elevator.” She slides a card to Killian. “James will escort you to the room.”

Wait there’s only one room?

Twenty-Two

Killian

“You needto stop fucking around and get this job done,” my dad demands angrily over the phone.

It’s been more than three weeks since I arrived in Bulgaria.

In those three or so weeks, I haven’t even attempted to kill Malcom.

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