Page 87 of Innocent Intentions

You want it to be.

I roll my eyes. I should be upset about yesterday, but the anger just isn’t there. I’ll bring up the audiobook at lunch, and hopefully, he’ll see reason.

I feel like we both let our guards down yesterday. I’m excited to see where we go from here.

Maybe this time, he’ll let you come.

I shake off the thought and stand, smoothing my dress. I’m usually fine waiting for lunch on the terrace, but today, I don’t want to wait.

I make my way towards his office but stop cold when the front door swings open.

That’s… strange.

Normally, the guards use the side entrance.

Curiosity and something dark coil in my stomach. Something feels off.

I duck under the staircase, pressing into the shadows, and watch through a banister.

A man steps inside.

The scariest man I’ve ever seen.

His brown hair is buzzed close to the scalp. His eyes are so dark, they’re nearly black. His nose is crooked from multiple breaks. The plethora of scars on his face scream violence.

He’s built like a war machine. Matty is big, but this man? This man is huge. And he’s covered in blood. Not a little. A lot. Bright red splattered across his arms, T-shirt, and jeans.

My stomach churns. I want to believe it’s not blood, but what else could it be?

What is a man like this doing in Matty’s house? And why does he have a key?

He strolls in like he owns the place, tossing his keys on the entrance table without care.

“Matthias!” His voice booms, deep and gravelly. “Come out, pretty boy. You have a visitor.” He practically sings the words, but they’re laced with mockery.

Then he laughs.

A laugh so dark, so sinister, it chills my blood.

A door opens down the hall, Matty’s office. His footsteps approach. Matty can’t see me. But I can see him. And I can hear his tone.

“Fuck, Roman.” Matty sounds frustrated. Panicked. “What are you doing here? You can’t just show up uninvited.”

Roman.

Roman, thetorturer.

Roman, thekiller.

Roman, thebrother.

The realization slams into me.

Of course. They look so similar.

The same sharp jawline. The same cocky, confident stance. The same deadly aura.

“Well, when you turn me down every invite to spend time with your brother, I have to come to you.” His voice darkens. “Plus, we have some things we need to discuss.”

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