Page 101 of Never Fall for an Angel

“What, curious?”

“Jealous.”

She gawks at me, her mouth falling open, and my mind goes to all the dirty, filthy things I want to do to her.

Between our argument earlier and watching her come out of her shell at Home of Hope, to just having her in my fucking space, filling the car with honey and vanilla, I’m starting to think this hard-on is perpetual. I’m not sure it’ll ever fucking go away.

“I amnotjealous,” she argues, though her tone of voice suggests the exact opposite. “I’m observant.” She brushes her hair off her face. “They totally saw through your lie, by the way. I don’t even have a ring.”

“That can be arranged,” I murmur dryly, running a thumb over my bottom lip.

“I’m serious, Christian.”

Funnily enough, so am I.

“Lindsay was a case I took while I was away. It was simple. In and out.”

“Last year?”

“Last year,” I nod.

“Is that why you left?”

I grit my teeth, mulling it over. For once, I decide to tell the truth.

“No, it had nothing to do with why I left.”

“You’re her savior,” she says after a moment when I don’t answer. She shrugs. “It makes sense.”

It doesn’t. I’m not their savior.

“I’m no one’s savior, Mila.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and I know what she wants to say. I’m happy when she doesn’t. The last thing I need is her thinking this is anything but what it is. My bringing her back to her family and putting an end to a problem I created. Nothing more.

I’ve known she would hate me since I walked back into her life.

She will, too, soon enough.

“It’s better she gets the idea out of her head now rather than later.”

“Do you . . . you don’t think it’ll hurt her, thinking we’re married?”

To tell the truth, I don’t really care. Not in the way Mila does. She’s worried about her feelings. I’m just worried about the effect it’ll have on her treatment. Lindsay, like a lot of women at the home, doesn’t know what real love looks like. Fuck, I don’t either, but I know it’s not me.

“No,” I answer, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I think it’s best she learns to focus on herself now and worry about shit like that later.”

“Easier said than done,” Mila says dryly, sinking back into the seat and resting her head on the headrest. I side-eye her, and her expression’s grim. I don’t fucking like it. “What about Lily?”

My spine stiffens. “What about her?”

“What’s her story?”

I grit my teeth, pulling down the path that will lead to our island.

“It’s dark, Mila.”

“Everyone’s story is dark in the wrong light, Christian.”

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