Page 44 of Cunning Lies
It makes it hard to concentrate. Like right now.
The men set down the boxes. Kenzo tips them and they leave. He gleams at me from the kitchen, sucking down a glass of water.
“You finally finished moving in?” I joke.
He tilts his head. “It’s for you.”
I furrow my brows, but then I’m intrigued, and I pry through a box. Jars of different shapes and sizes shine back at me. The next is full of packets of wax flakes and wicks. There’s even a double broiler and a scale. The last box contains essential and fragrance oils, packaged in bubble wrap. My jaw hangs open. I’ve never seen so much candle-making material in one place. Uncle Jay always pressures us to save up for our dream house, reminding me that we can’t keep that stuff in storage anyway. I’d only buy enough supplies to make one or two candles, then we’d leave the rest behind.
This is a small fortune to me.
“Why?” I whisper.
“You don’t like store-bought candles, so I figured this would work instead.”
Kenzo says it so matter-of-factly that it sends another wave of shock through me. It’s been over a year since I actually had the chance to make candles myself. Shock transforms into giddiness, my insides boiling into pure mush.
“Why would you buy all of this?” I ask. Accusation flutters in my tone, and I should be grateful. It’s thoughtful, sweet, and out of the blue. But I’m not used to it. And when it comes to who I am—and what my job is here—I don’t deserve it. I’m in the middle of selling his business secrets, not becoming his actual wife.
“It’s not just for you,” Kenzo says. “I have a nose too.”
I glance at him for a second, taking in his look of satisfaction. There’s a softness to his brown eyes, and I want to melt to my knees right in front of him. Why is he so sweet when I’m a backstabber?
It makes it even harder to tell Uncle Jay what I’ve learned. He’s been calling me like crazy, fishing for leads, but I haven’t told him anything. Maybe it’s Kenzo’s influence, but I like having power over Uncle Jay for once. Uncle Jay can’t control me from inside the penthouse.
Kenzo can control me, though. Maybe I’m keeping secrets from Uncle Jay because I want to be around Kenzo for a little while longer.
“Who took your virginity?” Kenzo asks, breaking me out of my thoughts. A wave of heat rolls through me.
I hit my head. “So this gift is to get me to talk, huh?” I tease.
“It’s not a gift. It’s for both of us.” He runs a hand through his thick hair. I love that he keeps insisting that it’s not a big deal. It’s a joke, but a sweet one. The only candle in the house is the Gucci gift. He doesn’t seem to actually care about scents.
“I’m curious,” he says. “Enlighten me.”
Part of me knows I shouldn’t tell him the truth, but the other part of me wants to tell him exactly what happened. I owe it to him, and that’s even before the candle-making gifts.
Maybe Iwantto be closer to him.
I leaf through the oils, marveling at the potential scent combinations. In a quiet voice, I say, “My cousin.”
“Patrick took your virginity?”
I don’t answer, pretending like I’m too busy paying attention to the oils, and I hope Kenzo knows that Patrick and I may not even be first cousins. It’s hard to tell with our family tree—though I guess it’s still taboo either way.
“What happened?” Kenzo asks. There’s a gentleness in his voice that I’m surprised he’s capable of. His eyes are a nurturing, rich brown that captivates me.
I go back to the box. “What’s your favorite scent?”
“Vi,” he says, his tone low and stern.
I grab the vial of coconut fragrance oil. “What about this and vanilla?” I ask. “It’ll be like a tropical paradise.”
“Vivian, tell me now.”
My cheeks are warm at my full name, but I keep rambling: “It’ll be good enough to eat.”
I shouldn’t have said anything about Patrick. No matter how sweet or kind or attentive Kenzo is, he’s a job. He’s not safe. He’s not home.
