Page 36 of Reckless Promises

13

Cillian

Odette’s confession eats awayat me.

She was hurt and the person who was there to protect her only cared enough to kick the man out of his house. I’d have done much worse.

But what strikes me even more is the guilt I’ve been carrying around since she admitted what happened. She wasn’t my responsibility back then. So why do I feel like I’m at fault?

For not finding her sooner. For not protecting her earlier.

All I can do is make sure she never suffers again—and find the person who put his fucking hands on her without her permission.

When I purchased her at the auction, it was simple. Money for a wife. I didn’t consider what that meant as far as actually being married. My parents weren’t a greatexample of a healthy relationship, so I’ve spent twenty-eight years avoiding one myself thinking there was no point.

Odette was revenge, that was it.

But that scar.

That tiny fucking scar that stares at me every time she turns her head, draws out all my protective instincts.

I no longer just want her for revenge. I want to keep her. To protect her. To make sure no one else can get to her.

She’s mine now. End of story.

“Where’s Odette?”

Darci has laundry piled in her arms, and she looks like she’s been running a marathon. Not that it’s a new look for her.

“Kitchen.” She barely stops long enough to answer.

Darci is the epitome of focus. She keeps Cross Manor in order and the entire staff in line. It doesn’t matter whether they report to her or not, they respect her. And I’m honestly not sure what I’d do without her.

Making my way to the kitchen, I push it open to find Peyton and Odette standing in front of the stove drinking coffee and laughing.

The sight of Odette’s smile kicks me in the ribs. Her dark hair is pulled up in a messy bun and her head tips back with her laugh, showing off the full length of her neck. She’s glowing with the sunlight streaming through the window, and she’s genuinely uninhibited.

The kitchen door slaps shut behind me and grabs their attention.

I watch Odette’s smile drain with the color in her face as her eyes meet mine. It’s unsettling to see it go. To witness her fade out as she blinks at me.

“What are you doing?” I ask when Odette sets down her coffee and picks up a spatula off the counter.

“Cooking.”

Peyton sets down her mug and takes a step back, not sure what to do as her gaze darts between me and my wife.

“If you’re hungry, Darci could have made you something.” I glance at Peyton.

“Sorry, Mr. Cross—”

“Stop.” Odette points the spatula at Peyton, before looking at me. “I was the one who wanted to learn how to cook. Don’t tell me I’m locked in this prison and not even allowed to do that?”

Peyton gnaws her lip, her fingers twisting with the tension. She looks at me for direction because she’s used to my mother and father, who barely spent any time around each other, and doesn’t know how to respond to this.

“Can you give us a minute, Peyton?”

She nods, taking the excuse and rushing past me out of the kitchen.

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