Page 126 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You
Three.
But the panic claws harder. The walls feel too close, the air too heavy. My father can’t do this. He can’t marry me off to that man.
But of course he can. And I don’t doubt for a second that he will.
I’m shaking so badly that the tears come before I even feel them. I clench my fists until my nails bite into my palms, deep enough to draw blood.
When I finally manage to catch my breath, I force myself upright. I smooth the creases in my gown, wash my hands, take a tissue and dab carefully at the corners of my eyes, making sure my makeup still looks perfect. Then I step out.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I walk straight into someone’s chest.
Strong hands catch me before I can stumble back, firm and warm against my arms. And when I look up, everything else falls away.
Midnight blue meets green.
My heart forgets its rhythm.
It’s him, the man from the café.
I met him only a few hours ago, but it already feels like a lifetime.
A tear slips free before I can stop it. He sees it, and something in his face changes, darkens.
For a moment, he looks dangerous, then he exhales and leans in. He doesn’t use his hand, he brushes the tear away with his lips. The touch is soft, unexpected… too intimate to make sense.
“Ne pleure pas, ma lune,” he murmurs.Don’t cry, my moon.
He takes my hand, and I let him without thinking. He leads me away, down a narrow corridor where the noise dulls behind us. I don’t care where we’re going, only that it’s quiet.
We step into a small sitting room, with high ceilings, gilded mirrors. The door clicks shut behind us.
He turns to face me, his jaw tight, his eyes burning. “Who made you cry?” His voice is lethal. “Tell me and I’ll end them.”
I shake my head, the words caught somewhere in my throat. He reaches up, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers tracing down to my jaw. The touch steals what’s left of my composure.
“You look breathtaking,” he says quietly now.
I manage a shaky smile. I don’t know what’s happening to me, or why I feel so exposed around him.
Vulnerable isn’t even the right word. I feel… safe. Like for once, I don’t have to hold everything together, because somehow he’ll make it easier just by being there.
It’s ridiculous. I hardly know him, nothing beyond his name, yet I find myself telling him about the man my father will almost certainly force me to marry.
It shouldn’t even surprise me, I’ve known it was coming since I was old enough to understand there’s no escaping it.
But saying it aloud feels different. It feels real.
The change in Arlo’s face is instant. Fury flashes through him. I honestly think he might storm out and set the entire place on fire.
He steps closer until there’s no space left between us.
His voice drops low and fierce. “I promise you this, Ophelia,” he says, brushing another tear from my cheek. “The only man you’ll ever marry in this life, will be me.”
The certainty in his tone steals the air from my lungs. It’s absurd, impossible, reckless, and yet every part of me believes him.
I force a small smile, my chest aching. “You’re mad.”
“No doubt,” he murmurs.
