Page 21 of Reckless Promises

I might be a monster, but I’m not a rapist.

Not that this girl seems to see a difference. She’s been surrounded by snakes her entire life and managed to survive with her attitude intact. If she’s not careful, she’s going to get herself into trouble. And as much as that should make me want to temper her, a sick part of me is curious what will happen if I throw kindling on her little fire.

If for no other reason than to watch her pretty emerald eyes burn bright.

Feeding her rage is better than considering doing more with her.

She’s Gabriel’s daughter—the blood of my enemy. She’s too young, too naïve, and too opinionated. Odette is a headache I don’t need right now.

Not that I can take my mind off her.

It doesn’t help knowing she’s in my bed wearing nothing more than black silk and lace. When I walked into our room last night, I froze at one glance of her deep green eyes. Promising luck, while bringing nothing but chaos.

I hate that she makes me question my intentions for the first time since taking my father’s spot. And I hate that it only makes me want to keep her closer.

I told her we’re sharing a room because of tradition. After all, it’s as good of a reason as any. She’ll be my wife, and if we don’t hold up that pretense, people will use our distance to their advantage.

But when I told Darci to put her things in there, it wasn’t because of the targets on our backs, it was because my ring on her finger is going to make hermine. And evenif I’m not offering love—and even if I’ll use her to destroy her family—what’s mine gets my protection.

Taking a break from work, I step into the kitchen, where Darci and Peyton are busy making breakfast. They silence their conversation as I take a seat. And I’m sure they wish I was more like my father was, ignoring them because he thought he was above them, so they could have the room to themselves. But I don’t like the quiet.

My father wasn’t friendly with the staff. He ordered them around and never called them by name. Not once did I see him step foot in this kitchen. He’d rather be waited on than consider himself anything like the people who worked for him. He took his breakfast in the dining room with his precious art collection.

That’s not me. I need the noise. I need to have my finger on the pulse.

Years working as head of security means I’m only comfortable when I have my eyes on my surroundings. When I know what’s being said in front of my face and behind my back. When I know why people around me are happy, angry, or upset.

Things don’t get past me because that’s the easiest way to be blindsided.

Besides, the breakfast nook in the kitchen is one of the few peaceful places in the manor, with floor-to-ceiling windows that have a clear view of the forest. It’s far better than having my breakfast surrounded by thirty empty chairs and pretentious family heirlooms.

“Can we get you anything, Mr. Cross?” Darci walks over with a fresh cup of coffee and places it in front of me, along with a croissant and fruit.

“That’s all, thank you.” I pull out my phone, and even if it’s only seven in the morning, my messages and texts are already mounting. There’s no catching up lately. My father died and every decision, every task, filtered directly to me.

I skim past everything I don’t want to look at this early and open the text from my brother.

Shane: Davenport said you’re changing course. Call me.

Doesn’t matter if technically it’s my wedding day, Shane knows it’s bullshit as much as anyone paying close enough attention. So it’s not a surprise that he’s all business. And clearly, what I said to Brandon last night is already making its rounds.

Shane still hasn’t let go of his resentment over the fact that Dad turned his estate over to me.

He was the one at his side when I bailed to run my own company. He consulted on every decision and helped Dad carry out the family vision.

Still, Dad put me at the helm.

A helm I’m slowly dismantling to build something different.

“Odette.”

My attention snaps to Darci, following her gaze until I land on the reason I didn’t get a minute of fucking sleep last night. At least now Odette has covered her lacenightgown in a silk robe, even if it’s short enough that it shows off half her thigh.

Odette’s dark hair is messy and longer now that her curls are relaxing. She’s washed off her makeup, revealing a few freckles spotting the natural blush of her cheeks. And she’s more innocent looking like this—not all done up to be paraded around.

I close my phone and set it aside. “Is that what you wear to breakfast?”

“You’re one to talk.” She narrows her gaze and pulls her robe tighter, skimming my dress shirt and slacks.

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