Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)

She tipped the bowl over, using the chopsticks to shove any lingering noodles into her smaller bowl, and I closed my eyes, laughing quietly.

She just broke about three rules of etiquette. My father would piss a brick if he saw it.

But watching her face and losing myself in those red lips, she really was incredible.

“It’s a pretty dress,” I told her. “Where’d you get it?”

She finished chewing quietly, not looking at me. “Marina,” she said, “Gabriel’s cook. She made it for me when I sixteen.”

The reminder that Gabriel was her father hit me again, and I had so many questions still.

“My father was having a party,” she explained, “and Marina thought he might let me come if…if I was pretty enough.”

Pretty enough?

“Did you go?”

She shook her head. “I got all dressed up. Hair and a little lipstick. But Damon wouldn’t allow it. He made me stay upstairs.”

She gave a little laugh, like she was trying to brush off his possessiveness, but…

Territorial is fine when it’s in the bedroom. It’s not fine when it keeps someone you’re supposed to love from living a life.

All the pieces began to fit together. Devil’s Night six years ago. How he wouldn’t let her even speak to me. How he had those guys take her away. How she always seemed to lurk like a mouse—in the confessional, at the cemetery—afraid of the cat coming out to snatch her up.

How they latched onto each other at The Pope. How she was the only woman I’ve ever seen him hang onto like a life preserver.

Given what I knew of their parents, it was no wonder they made their family just the two of them. It was the only place they were safe and loved.

“Come here,” I said, dropping my voice to a whisper.

She narrowed her eyes.

She had every reason to hate me after what I pulled today. After Gabriel and I tossed her back and forth like a possession. Has she ever been anywhere but Meridian City or Thunder Bay? Did she at least finish school? Did she have a single friend who wasn’t a guy in Gabriel’s crew?

I leaned in, suddenly wanting everything. I wanted to show her the world.

“Fuck him and your father,” I said gently. “Fuck me and the shit that comes out of my mouth.”

Her eyebrows dug in deeper, looking confused.

Snaking an arm around her, I pulled her onto my lap, and she immediately tried to push me away.

“I wanted this,” I told her, looking in her eyes.

She paused.

“For no other reason than I wanted you.” I threaded my fingers through hers, brushing against the band on her finger. I’d get her an engagement ring next week. Even though we were never engaged. Maybe she’d like to pick it out, actually. “Damon knew what a treasure you were, and he loves you. But he won’t keep me from you.” I tipped up her chin to meet my eyes. “This isn’t about him or the hotel or your father. I want you.”

“And if I don’t want you?”

My gaze faltered, but I decided to be direct. “Don’t you?”

I hadn’t misread signals. She liked me.

“I won’t hurt him,” I said, knowing what her worries were. “But I do need to protect myself, so I need to see him. Do you understand?”

“You promise?”