Kian

He knew my deepest and darkest secrets.

He knew what Edmund had done to me.

A shaky laugh slipped out. I couldn’t hold back the edge in my tone. “You’re right. You do. You know things no one should know. You know things I’m ashamed of—”

He surged to me. His hand caught my shoulder, and he said forcefully, “You never have to be ashamed. Never, Jordan.”

Edmund was there. I felt his presence between us.

I looked down, but I didn’t move from Kian’s hold, even though I should’ve been scared of it.

I wasn’t.

He continued, his voice softening, “He did that to you. It happened to you—not by you, not because of you, but to you. You had no choice. You have no accountability of what was done to you. Your foster dad was a sick bastard. I might not remember killing him, but I’ll never regret that I did. No one should have that horror happen to them. Guys like Edmund don’t rehabilitate. They just learn how to hide it better.” He sounded like he wanted to say more, but he let go and jerked back a step.

I sensed a raging battle inside of him. It was for me, not because of me.

Right there, hearing that, my reservations about Kian disappeared. He protected me. He didn’t blame me. Snark’s warnings were for nothing. I couldn’t explain it. There were no words that I could utter to make another person feel it, too, but I knew then.

I had nothing to fear from Kian.

A tear formed in the corner of my eye, and I brushed it away before he saw it. I didn’t want him to see that he had affected me. I wanted to be seen how I saw him—strong.

“Thank you,” I whispered. I wasn’t just thanking him for the interview.

He nodded, stepping away again. “Yeah,” he murmured. He took in a deep breath and let it out. “I’ll make it work tomorrow. You don’t have to worry. Your friend is the other reporter? Erica?”

“She’s going to be the feisty one.”

He grinned. “I look forward to meeting her.”

Here it was—the awkward good-bye. We had talked about what I’d asked him to come for. There was no reason for more talk. I knew he should go, but I didn’t want him to, and I knew that I should let him go, but I didn’t want to. I wanted him to stay—at least for a little longer.

He was right. He knew the deepest regions of my soul and what had happened to me—that touched inside of me—but we were almost strangers. It didn’t seem right.

He sighed. “This is where I go.”

I nodded. “I know.”

He didn’t leave.

I didn’t either.

We stayed and stared at each other for another minute, and then he began backing away.

I turned around and looked out over the city. I heard the roof’s door open and close, and I knew he was gone, but I’d see him again tomorrow.

The hotel suite was dark when I got in, but there was a soft glow coming from my sister’s room and another from the living room. As I passed the doorway, I noticed the French doors had been left open, and a small lamp on the desk tucked back in the corner had been left on.

I shared this suite with Felicia.

Our dad hadn’t wanted to stray from his offices for too long, and there’d been too much traveling done already from the Primetime interview and all the appeals courts. He remained back home with our mother.

It was just my sister and me in this suite while my lawyers and all of Laura’s publicist team stayed in their own rooms. There was security, too, but only one remained inside the suite while the others stayed out in the hallway. They’d switch off every few hours, and a new set of guards would come in the morning to relieve them.

Felicia liked to turn in early—or that was what she’d claim before retiring to her room at nine every night. The smell of booze that emanated from under her door said otherwise. I was fairly certain my sister was a closet alcoholic. I only hoped it was alcohol and that she wasn’t addicted to anything else.

After going past her room, I was about to close the door on mine when her door opened.

“Kian?”

I paused and closed my eyes.

She’d forced herself on this trip. I didn’t want her here. My lawyers didn’t either, and I knew Laura thought my sister was a publicist’s nightmare. But Felicia had demanded that she come, and I hadn’t had the time to fight her, so here she was, waiting up for me.

I prepared myself for one of her lectures. I said, “I’m here.”

She came out to the hallway, so she could see me. Our rooms were right next to each other, and I hadn’t stepped back out to answer her question. I made her come to me. As she stood between our doors, she wrapped her blanket around her form. Her makeup was smudged, and she was unsteady on her feet, swaying a tiny bit before she caught her balance fully.