Page 97 of Kiss the Villain

"You sure you don’t want to lie down, hon?” Mom rubs the back of my hand as we sit together at the table.

Although she’s been through a lot, she’s still beautiful in a delicate way. Her face is small, her movements soft, and she always wears her hair in this elegant bun with a couple of strands escaping.

But as she looks at me, a deep frown forms on her forehead, and her eyes are slightly red. As soon as they arrived, she hugged me and cried for what felt like an hour. Mom Jina tried to hold it together, but then she was hugging us, too, tears streaming down her face.

I can’t stand seeing them cry. I’ll be the first to admit that I have little to no capacity for interpersonal emotions, but I’ve always seen my moms in a different light.

Maybe it’s because of the protective streak I’ve developed after everything I’ve witnessed. Maybe because they’ve already suffered more than anyone should, and I hate to see them in pain again.

That’s why I keep them completely out of my business.

My gaze shifts to Mom Jina, who’s scolding her amateur sous-chef. Carson just grins and apologizes, letting her sharp words slide right off him. I can’t help but watch the dimples that crease his cheeks, making him look so young and charming, almost…normal.

Almost.

If I didn’t know him, I’d probably think he was the most well-mannered kid. But then again, I really don’t like thinking of him as a kid.

That’s just disturbing, to say the least.

“Hon, are you listening?” Mom squeezes my hand.

“Yes?”

She smiles knowingly.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” she speaks with cryptic glee. “I was just asking if you need more rest, but you seem energized.”

Pissed off, more like. I want Carson gone, but I doubt I’d manage that now that he wormed his way into what would’ve been a quiet evening otherwise. Mom seems halfway in his pocket already.

He does have the knack to mess with my system to no end.

I face her and lower my voice. “No personal information revealed tonight, Mom. Promise me.”

“Why?” she whispers back. “Is hethatimportant?”

“It’s because he’snotimportant that he doesn’t need to know anything. I’m serious, Mom. Nothing. He’s an outsider.”

“If you say so.” She laughs along, seeming too giddy for someone who said they’d die if something happened to me not half an hour ago.

“What are you laughing about?” Carson is carrying two dishes, smiling like the ray of fucking sunshine he’s not. “Can I join?”

“Oh, certainly.” Mom gets busy as they both set the table.

When I try to help Mom Jina, she just scolds me in Korean and basically tells me to sit the fuck down and not aggravate my injury.

Well, they think it’s an injury. In fact, I’ve been helping the motherfucker I grew up with, Julian, do his stupid medical experimentation in exchange for him helping to cover my tracks with my brother, Grant.

I still have to meet Grant once in a while, but at least he won’t show up and sabotage what I have here. Using my body as collateral means nothing. My physical form is only a weapon I wield to get where needed and another device of power.

Considering my upbringing, physical pain never fazed me and never will.

My moms think I got into an accident, thanks to Jethro, who at least kept his mouth shut for once.

Soon enough, we’re all sitting around the table staring at enough food to feed an army. Mom made Korean-style roast chicken and fusion salads incorporating kimchi, then added dozens of her side dishes that she brought over and stocked my fridge with—while shaking her head at my ‘bad eating habits.’

Apparently that’s because I don’t cook, and she hates that. Mom Jina thinks any food that’s not homemade is unhealthy and shouldn’t be consumed.

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