Page 36 of Beautiful Deception

Everything is wrong, I think sleepily. But what, though?

Dr. Kian gifts a kiss in the same place Remo kissed me, my cheek twitching against his soft lips as they linger, and then he retreats with a demure sigh that’s laden with disappointment.

“Rest well,” they say, a breathed curse of nightmares and desolate memories.

My futile protest submits to the realm of twilight's hush, something less precarious than the closing suitcase.

Chapter Ten

__________

Maya

“About time.”

It’s the first thing Dr. Kian says to me when I wake up in my house, along with Remo lounging against the wenge hardwood of the doorframe under Sunday’s daybreak.

“You’ve been sleeping for the past four days,” Remo says as Dr. Kian melts the honey in a clear glass of water, the tiny spoon clanking on the surface as his toffee-colored eyes twinkle brazenly.

Still, I take the water from his hand with a hint of desperation and down the sweetened content. My throat flexes as a hiccup nearly tugs a choked gag, but the water soothes the reflex by lining the dry walls of my throat.

“My fault,” Dr. Kian mutters, a sigh parting his lips as his saddened gaze falls to the beige comforter. “It was my idea to take care of everything before I let you wake up.”

Let me wake up. What a terrifying phrase. It’s so domineering and spoken with absolute control, a sort of tenacity that comes from natural rulers.

“What did you do?” I insist weakly, wringing the empty glass on my lap.

“Gathered some incriminating evidence on everyone,” Remo answers and does nothing but rake his unrelenting gaze over my body. “Even you.”

My voice trudges through the clumps of anxiety on my tongue and utters hoarsely, “What evidence?”

His broad shoulder rises and casually drops as he crosses his arms over his chest, the sharp ink peeking from underneath the sleeve when his muscles flex. I know what I saw, and that tattoo wasn’t on his body when Dr. Kian was bandaging him up when Peter attacked him.

“Murder, kidnapping, money laundering,” Remo lists cruelly, “I have more for you to choose from.”

“And why would I want that?” I sneer at his nonchalance as the other man pets my head like he’s calming down a hissing stray cat.

“To stop you from running,” Dr. Kian answers, rejoicing. “But I think we have it handled without help.”

I open my mouth to contest him, but the dots connect seamlessly. While certain details are still unclear, the overall picture is beginning to come together. I firmly believe they had their eyes on me way before the trip.

A criminal investigation into Kimberly and having me spill secrets in the name of helping me heal from Peter’s kidnapping—they’re excuses to get closer to me.

How could I be so blind? The moment I met either man, there was already an inkling in my mind about the obsession that swam in their eyes. But it was brief, and a single blink of an eye led me to believe it was all in my head.

“Don’t touch Junnie,” I warn indignantly, fisting the silken duvet with tremors clipping my bones.

“She’s safe as long as you don’t make us angry,” Dr. Kian proposes.

The glass from my hands has two thin fractures that would’ve shattered with an ounce more pressure.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask as my lips wobble with frenzied agitation, but the question I want to ask more than anything is: “What do you want from me?”

“Do you believe in love?” He presses a kiss on my cheek, and detestation slinks across the skin in bursts of heat. “Soulmates?”

“No.” I flinch back, but my silent protestation at his action doesn’t dissolve the glee in his eyes.

He doesn’t hide behind the friendly yet distant façade that he perfected for his patients and the rest of the world.

---