Page 13 of Defiled Innocence

“Contesting the will can take a long time, and I don’t need to be married to do it.” I sigh. “No judge in his right mind would force me to marry someone, right? I mean, that’s the stuff of third world countries.”

My phone dances on the kitchen island countertop next to my purse. I check the time again, five after.

He’s realized I’m not home.

Christian’s hand wraps around mine, squeezing gently.

“We’d make a good couple, Lia,” he says softly. I look down at where our hands are entwined. Did every male in the city lose his mind when Lucas died?

“You want his company.” I try to pull free, but Christian tightens his hold.

“I want what’s best for you.” He leans closer and I smell it. Bourbon. Another glance behind him and I see the bottle open on the counter with the empty Glencairn glass next to it.

The seal strip lays beside the newly opened bottle. He’s nearly a quarter way through it already.

“No, you want what’s best for you.” I yank my hand away and heave a sigh. As I turn, he snags my arm and pulls me back.

“Christian. Stop it.” I shove against his chest.

“He didn’t leave me a damn thing. Not a single penny or share in his stupid company. You know, I was the one who had the idea of him starting that firm.” His lips twist downward.

“Nothing he did with his estate makes any sense.” I push harder, but he’s not letting me go.

“Marry me, we’ll contest the will, and you can have the foundation. I’ll keep funding it the way he was, then we both get what we want.”

“And for your trouble, you’ll take his company? How much have you had to drink tonight?”

“It could be good between us.” He pulls me closer, holding me by both arms. I twist my head to the side as he leans into me.

How had I not noticed how heavy his eyelids are this evening? Because I’d been so caught up in my own problems, I wasn’t paying any attention to him.

“No, Christian. It won’t be.” Damn, even in his state, he’s strong. I can’t get loose from his grip.

“How could he not leave me anything?” Christian’s eyes darken, his grip gets tighter.

“I don’t know.” Struggling isn’t getting me anywhere. “Christian, you’re hurting me. Stop. Let me go.”

His eyes go wide, like he’s just waking up and he looks down at where his hands are squeezing my upper arms.

“Shit.” He lets me go so quickly, I stumble back a step. “I’m so sorry, Lia.” He rakes a hand through his soft brown hair, leaving several strands standing on end.

The doorbell chimes.

“It’s okay.” I rub my hands over the tender spots. “You’ve been drinking…”

“It’s just.” He pauses. “How could he do this to me? To you?”

The doorbell rings again.

“Should you get that?”

“What? Oh. One second.” He brushes past me and turns down the hall to the front door.

“Amelia.” A dark voice sends a jolt through me a moment later.

No. He couldn’t have found me here. It’s only ten minutes after seven; he couldn’t have gotten here from my apartment in only ten minutes.

“Lia?” Christian’s voice is laced with concern, but I’m not sure if it’s for me or him.

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