Page 38 of Reckless Promises

I’ve never made Odette laugh before—only frown. And as her sparkly eyes lift and she bites back her smile, I want to do more things for her that will grant me that reaction.

A bit of hope when I thought I’d lost it all after my dad died.

“So you’ve never cooked before?” I take another bite, and this potato is almost completely raw and inedible.

She shakes her head. “I always wanted to though.”

“Why’s that?”

“I like food.” She swallows another bite, her face pinching from whatever she tasted as she sets her plate aside. “There weren’t many ways for me to explore or try new things. So food was it.”

“Makes sense.”

“Can you cook?”

“No.” I smirk. “I can heat soup, but that’s about it.”

Odette watches me lick my fork, and when I set it back down on the plate, she steps toward me. Her honey scent once more floods my senses, and I’m not sure I’ve ever smelled anything sweeter.

“I guess I can cook for you then.” She grabs my plate, pausing for a moment as we both hold it—her looking up at me. “If you’d like.”

“I would.” More than I should.

She smiles once more, taking my plate and carrying it over to the sink. And I hear her start to say something else, but I’m already walking out of the kitchen. I can’t be around her anymore without having to face whatever she just swelled inside me.

She’s my wife.

I’m not supposed to like her.

14

Odette

I made my decision.No matter how much I resent my husband, I’m going to help him.

And not just because he’s been playing nice and pretending to like my terrible cooking experiments. But because it’s what needs to be done if I want him to help with the favor I asked regarding my mom and sister.

I used to think it was weak how my mom let my father steamroll her at every turn. Looking back, I realize now she picked her battles. She knew when there was no use trying and when to put up a fight—even if it ended badly.

I should use those lessons I learned and be the good wife to get on Cillian’s side now. But what’s tricky is that I’m not like my mother. My tongue isn’t as controlled, and my patience isn’t as resolved. Fire always seems to find its way out.

At least I’m smart.

If Cillian is on a warpath, and if flames are what he’s after, I’ll hand him the matches and help him burn it all down. I’ll play along and give him whatever information might be helpful. And hopefully, he’ll keep up his part of what he said.

Either way, when this is done, my father’s empire will fall, and I won’t shed a tear. He sold me. He used me. What’s inevitable needs to happen to end this.

End this.

I wonder what that means for me and Cillian. He made it clear on the first night that this marriage means nothing to him emotionally. So I can’t help but wonder what he’ll do with me once I’ve worn out my purpose.

When he first bid at the auction, all I could think about was how I’d escape him. Now, I’m his wife. And like it or not, that thought settles something that’s spent my whole life rattling around.

A knock strikes my bedroom door, and my eyes fly open. Cillian didn’t come to bed last night, and even if it’s not the first time, whenever he stays up, I have trouble sleeping.

“Mrs. Cross?” Peyton’s voice comes from the other side of the door.

It still sounds foreign every time I hear it. It doesn’t feel like who I am yet—or who I was meant to be. But it’s who I became.

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