Page 75 of Beautiful Cruelty

NIGHT

I pauseoutside the blue suite, the small velvet box weighing in my palm. Suddenly, I feel a nervousness that I'd never felt around her take over.

It's funny. You'd think that after I made her kneel before me, after I came down her throat, and after I made her lick those diamonds clean, I'd feel like I'm in control of the situation.

But if my racing heart is anything to go by, it's proof that control is the last thing I have over someone like Lacey McKinney.

Taking a deep breath, I raise my hand and knock gently on her door.

"Come in," she calls out.

Lacey sits cross-legged on the bed, having changed into something a bit more comfortable. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders, and my mind flashes back to how it felt wrapped around my fist.

"I brought you something."

Her eyes narrow with suspicion. "More piercings?"

"No." I hold out the box. "Though if you're interested..."

"I think I've had enough jewelry for one day." But she takes the box, her fingers brushing mine.

When she opens it, her breath catches. The understated necklace she'd been looking at gleams against the black velvet—the small teardrop diamonds shimmering like stars around the central stone.

"I noticed you looking at it the entire time," I say. "So, I bought it for you as an afterthought."

Lacey's fingers tremble as she lifts the necklace from its velvet nest. Something flickers across her face. Pain, longing, and gratitude all mixed into one. Her amber-flecked eyes shine with unshed tears.

"Why this one?" I ask softly, watching her cradle it like something precious and lost.

She bites her lower lip, turning the delicate chain in her hands. The small diamonds catch the light, throwing tiny rainbows across her skin. Her silence speaks volumes.

"We're about to get married,zvyozdochka," I remind her, settling beside her on the bed. "Even if the marriage isn't real, there should be some honesty between us."

The words feel strange in my mouth. I demand honesty from her, but refuse to give her the same when she asks it of me. But something about her vulnerability calls to me, makes me want to deserve her trust.

Makes me want to beg for it.

"It..." She takes a shaky breath. "It looks like my Mom's. MyrealMom."

The way she emphasizes 'real' speaks of old wounds, still raw. But there's something else in her tone—a catch in the way she says 'mom' that makes my instincts prickle.

She stops abruptly, swallowing hard. Her knuckles go white around the necklace.

"You promised me honesty." Her voice low and soft. "So, here's my chance to be honest with you."

Something in her tone makes me look at her sharply. There's a familiar pain in her eyes, one that mirrors my own. I know that kind of wound well. It’s the kind that never quite heals right no matter how much time passes.

For a dangerous moment, I want to reach across the space between us. To offer comfort. To acknowledge this unexpected bridge of understanding.

But I don't know how.

I don't know if I can.

"I was adopted when I was a baby. My birth parents..." She swallows hard. "Well, they didn't want me. But the Huangs did. They gave me a home, a family, a sister."

"Megan?"

Lacey turns her face away, blinking fiercely, but not before I catch the shine in her eyes. Her hand tightens around the necklace and around my hand. Something protective stirs in my chest.

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