Page 63 of Bought
What’s gotten into me? Was it telling Erin about Isobel and dredging up her memory that has my mind playing tricks on me? Or Erin’s observation about the remains of the fire?
Erin squeezes my hand, staring up at me with the most beautiful, trusting smile.
I smile back.
I have to move forward. I can’t let Isobel haunt my days as well as my nights.
She’s gone. And I need to move on.
“Here we are.” Learning quickly, she waits, flowers in hand, for me to open the passenger door for her. I reach over her, buckling her safely in. I leave her with a kiss before I close her door.
I won’t walk away.
I will find out what dangers she is facing.
Even if I am burned alive a second time to do so.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Erin
Even with the grocery store behind me and the Cabriolet speeding off toward my apartment, I’m still trembling. When Lucian suddenly appeared at the store a few moments ago, I thought everything had finally blown up in my face.
As terrifying as the thought was, I was almost relieved to be done with the lies.
Even though their paths didn’t cross, I can’t get my heart rate to slow down. It’s unbelievable how deeply I’ve involved myself with not just one crime family in this city, but two.
Two deadly mafia families who are at war with each other.
I’m living with one and sleeping with the other.
I never should have agreed to dinner.
Ryan’s only three.
Three-and-a-half; he’d correct me if he were here.
He doesn’t know Bambi’s last name, and I doubt he could pronounce it even if he did. Ryan already enjoys saying Lucian’s name as ‘loo-shan’ because it lets him get away with potty talk.
The confrontation at the store was nerve-wracking.
The upcoming dinner with his family is just terrifying.
I now have to face the family of the man I met when I sold my virginity in a bidding war.
Tonight could be the end for me.
My palms are sweaty against my thighs, and I can’t stop fiddling with the hem of my dress. Lucian notices. Of course he does. He’s always watching out for me. His hand stays warm and steady on my knee, grounding me.
“Stop fidgeting,” he says softly. “You’ll be fine.”
Easy for him to say. He’s not the one walking into the den of wolves. Though technically, I’m the predator.
I can’t seem to stop reliving that terrible moment.
“Pretty.” The word is thick, hot like molten lava. “Who are they for?”
I turn over my shoulder to find a strange man, broad with dark features and sharp eyes.
