Page 73 of Brazen King

Horror grips me as I ride the elevator up to our penthouse on the top floor of Central Park Tower. I’m appalled at how far I’ve let things go with Killian.

I’m completely out of control.

And what’s worse is he’s right.

I can’t stand the thought of him dying. I don’t want to be the reason my father starts a war. And I most definitely don’t want to be the cause of Killian’s death.

I’m so far beyond the point of being unable to kill him. Now, I’m afraid it might just destroy me to watch him die.

Which is partly why my stomach is in knots as the elevator doors slide open onto our entryway.

It’s late enough, I’m confident my parents are up—likely Tatiana as well. And it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re all at breakfast by now.

With a sinking suspicion, I hope no one came to wake me. Or worse, look for me in the gym after discovering I’m not in my room.

Holding my breath, I pad across the cold marble floor, barefoot because I couldn’t bring myself to go back to Killian’skitchen—where I left my bodysuit, mask, and shoes. I can’t begin to imagine what his staff must have made of the discarded clothes. And I wonder if it might be a more common occurrence than I would like to believe.

The thought that Killian’s undressed another woman in the kitchen releases an astonishing and unexpected wave of jealousy inside me. And I push down the confusing feeling because right now, I need to focus on getting to my room undetected.

Mercifully, the path to the stairway is completely vacant. I don’t run into a single soul until I make it to the upstairs hall. There, Lydia—one of the maids—greets me with a cheery smile. And she doesn’t even take a second glance at my outfit.

Intense relief washes through me as I finally make it to my room and close the door.

Then I glance around my room—as if expecting to find some sign that my family came looking for me in the early hours of the morning. But of course, it all looks just as I left it.

The smart thing to do would be to change and head directly to my father’s study—tell him about my failed attempt, yet again.

But I just don’t have the strength to do that.

To look my father in the eyes and lie to him yet again.

The guilt is overwhelming, now that I don’t have the heat of Killian’s passion to burn it all to ash. And what’s left is a gnawing sense of failure, inadequacy, betrayal of my family.

Falling backward onto my bed, I stare up at the ceiling of my room as I try to pull my thoughts together. To decide where I go from here. Because I can’t keep lying to my family—and I can’t keep going deeper into the labyrinth of emotions I have for Killian if, in the end, it’s never going to work out.

Tears sting the back of my eyes at that thought. And for the first time, I face the fact that there’s no way I can win this situation. But I have to pick a side. And if I don’t, one side or the other could very well end up picking for me.

Unless there’s another solution I just can’t see.

But if there is, it’s beyond me.

Tatiana on the other hand…My sister is the single smartest person I know. She can assess situations and often find a peaceful alternative. She might not bepakhanshayet, but already, my father trusts her with critical business decisions because she has a keen eye for strategy and a cool head—unlike me. But we all have our strengths.

And where I keep coming up short on solutions, she might actually have a way to handle my conundrum that I never thought of. Or at the very least, perhaps she can talk some sense into me.

So, as terrified and mortified as I am to admit what’s been going on between me and Killian, I think it’s time.

After taking a quick shower, I change my clothes and head back out of my room in search of my older sister.

I find her in the library, pouring over some thick tomb about business economics.Classic Tatiana, just enjoying a bit of light reading,I think dryly.

She doesn’t seem to hear me coming, and she doesn’t look up until I’m standing right in front of her, my lower lip trapped between my teeth as my nerve begins to falter.

But then her eyes snap up to mine, crystal blue and as sharp as the knife I keep strapped inside my combat boots. “Hey, we missed you at breakfast this morning. You sleep in? Papa said you had another late night.”

“Yeah…” I hedge, not really answering her question as I vaguely agree.

“You okay?” she asks, her dark brows pressing into a frown. “You look stressed.”

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