Page 56 of Salem's Fall
I wince at his words. They hit closer to home than I’d like to admit.
For a moment, we stand in silence, the weight of everything pressing down between us. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, almost pleading.
“I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt. ThatI’mthe one putting you in danger.” He steps closer, reaching for my hand. “I care about you, James. More than I should.”
His voice breaks with emotion, and I look up, meeting his gaze. There’s something raw in his eyes, something that wasn’t there before.
“Quinn, I?—”
“No, let me finish,” he continues, his words slow and deliberate. “I care for you in a way I probably shouldn’t—for a whole lot of reasons—but I do. How can I not? You drive me crazy, Woodsen.” He drags a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening like he’s fighting against himself. When his gaze locks onto mine again, there’s no hiding the raw intensity there. “I can’t just stand by and watch you in trouble.” He steps closer, voice lowering. “Let me protect you. Come back to Boston with me.”
I stare at him, the room spinning as his confession hangs in the air, thick and heavy. I don’t know how to react. Part of me is elated. This gorgeous, successful, brilliant man likesme?
Quinn Alexander Kensington is everything I should want in a partner. I should be bouncing off the walls knowing how he feels about me. And I’ve thought about him this way too. I admit it. Who could be around Quinn and not think of him like that, at least once in a while?
And yet…
Though my heart is racing, it’s not in the same way it does whenever Damien is near. This is comfortable but not electrifying. Safe but not consuming.
“I don’t know what to say…”
“Leave with me—now. Tonight.” Quinn reaches for me again, grasping my hands in his. “I’ll have someone get your car in the morning.”
“Quinn, I can’t,” I say, pulling back. “This case… I–I need to see it through.”
He nods. “Just think about it,” he says, his voice filled with quiet hope. “We can talk more in the morning. I’m staying here. I’m not leaving you alone in Salem’s Fall.”
I nod slowly, still reeling from his words. “Okay. Tomorrow then.”
Quinn’s gaze lingers on me for a long moment before he sighs, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Goodnight, Woodsen.”
I close the door behind him and lean against it, my mind a whirlwind of emotions. Quinn wants to protect me, take care of me, take me away from all this madness. And maybe I should let him. The safe choice may be exactly what I need…
I’m just not sure it’s what I want.
Iwake up with Lucky on my pillow, his little paws reaching forward before he curls back up with a low rumble. My head is still tangled with thoughts of Quinn’s confession last night about his feelings for me. Not that I didn’t suspect there could be something more than just a professional fondness there—I’ve felt it too for some time now—but that Quinn would give in to the feelings and want to give this a shot? That, I didn’t see coming.
I try to imagine a life with him. A beautiful, stable life with the one person who’s been there for me since my very first day at the firm, steady and trustworthy, the very definition of everything I should want. Reliable, intelligent, kind. Always respectful of boundaries. He’s a good man. Someone to lean on. Someone who will always put me first. He’d be the kind of partner who’d never let me fall.
And then there’s Damien.
The very thought of him sparks something deep inside me. What a terrible idea it would be to follow that flame, yet it flares within me all the same. I know I shouldn’t be anywhere near Damien Blackhollow. The fact that I’m even entertaining the thought of him, no matter how remote, is a whole new level of recklessness.
Damien is dangerous. Ruthless. Quite possibly a brutalserial killer who makes a game of targeting the women who love him—even his own fiancée. And yet, every time I’m around him, it’s like gravity pulling me in, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s borderline insanity, but there’s a magnetic pull there I can’t ignore.
My phone vibrates beside me on the nightstand, and I glance over to see a text from Quinn:
Breakfast. Downstairs in 30.
It’s a command, not a question.
My stomach tight with nerves, I swing my legs out of bed and rush to get ready. I feed Lucky first, his bowl clinking as he scarfs down his breakfast like it’s the first meal he’s had in years. He finishes and looks at me, then his empty bowl, and starts whining. I chuckle, leaning down to pet the top of his little head. One thing about Lucky, he’s never satisfied with a single meal. If I let him, the cat would weigh one hundred pounds. It’s one small certainty in my otherwise completely uncertain life.
When he realizes no more food is coming, he gives me a look somewhere between disappointment and disgust before jumping onto the windowsill to watch people and sulk. I roll my eyes and head for the bathroom to get ready to see Quinn.
Well, as ready as I can get for something like this.
Whatever awaits me at breakfast, at least I can look presentable. I brush my hair and put on a dark cerulean blue sweater that brings out the color of my eyes. Quinn always notices those things. Then I swipe on some mascara and a soft pink lip before giving myself a last look in the mirror. It’s subtle but enough to show I care.
