Perfect Villain (Dark Lies Duet 1)

An ex-girlfriend? I stiffen at the thought of another woman decorating this apartment. I don’t know why. He’s allowed to have a past. My past isn’t even very distant, is it? But the idea of someone else putting their touch on the place before I came into the picture leaves a sour taste in my mouth, nonetheless. I never considered myself the jealous type, but maybe I don’t know myself as well as I thought I did.

Before I can go too far down the rabbit hole of despair, he adds, “She more than earned her fee. I would recommend her to anyone.”

So, he paid somebody to help him. I wish I didn’t feel so relieved at that, but I can’t pretend I don’t feel lighter and more comfortable now.

“It really is an amazing apartment. If I didn’t know any better, I would think I woke up in a fairy tale.”

He turns me in his arms until we’re facing each other, then tightens his hold on me until our bodies are flush. My heart flutters at the closeness. “Allow yourself to enjoy this. Allow yourself to become comfortable with the idea of being safe and taken care of. Because that’s what you are now. You are safe. I’m going to protect you.”

Can it be this easy? This simple? Well, why not? Maybe I’ve already been through enough. Maybe fate decided to let up on me for once, to allow me to be happy. Would that be so unthinkable? Don’t I deserve this after so many years of looking over my shoulder, always doubting, always wondering if somebody was waiting in the shadows?

“This is very new to me,” I admit, allowing my hands to rest against his impressive chest. “I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful. Trust me, nothing could be further from the truth.”

“I understand. You don’t have to explain.” His lips brush the tip of my nose, and when he pulls back, he’s smiling. “All I ask is that you give yourself a chance. Allow yourself to accept good things coming into your life. Trust me, I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.”

Trust him. It’s easy to say, isn’t it? And maybe I can trust him, fully and completely. He’s never given me any reason not to. Not like Taj, whose red flags I was intent on ignoring for so long. His hot-and-cold demeanor, the way he’d keep me waiting endlessly, then show up with a million apologies. I turned a blind eye for so long.

Christian is nothing like that. He’s never let me down. And now, he’s welcoming me into his inner sanctum. That alone should be proof of his seriousness, his good intentions.

Although... My attention drifts over toward the bed, the only one in the apartment. “How are we going to do this? I mean, which side do you sleep on?”

His eyes narrow a split second before widening, understanding dawning on his handsome face. “No, no, it won’t be like that. You’ll take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No! This is your home. If anybody should take the couch, it should be me.”

“And what kind of man would I be if I made you sleep out there in the living room?” His chest puffs out like I offended his masculinity.

I tip my head to the side, brows knitting together. “A man who pays a lot of money for this apartment and deserves to sleep in his own bed.”

“You will sleep in this bed.” He jerks a thumb toward the doorway and the living room beyond. “I’ll sleep out there. End of discussion.”

There doesn’t seem to be much I can say in the face of his certainty, so the best I can do is thank him. It doesn’t seem like those two words are enough, and I know I have to find other ways to show my gratitude. Maybe I’ll make us a nice dinner or offer to do the housework to earn my keep. Anything, so long as it feels like I’m not taking advantage.

“It’s been a long day already.” He rolls his head on his shoulders, then stretches his arms. It isn’t easy to ignore how the muscles bunch and flex under his skin. “Why don’t you get settled in and get cleaned up? There are plenty of clean towels in the bathroom. Do you know where your toiletries and such are?”

I do since I packed them separately to keep them close at hand before I knew I’d be donating so much of the rest of my stuff.

It doesn’t take long before I realize he was right about the shower. After a little experimentation, I find a delightful combination of settings where the jets on the walls don’t hit me with something that feels like it’s coming from a firehose. Once I’m able to settle in and enjoy the setup, the hot water massages my aching muscles—he was right, it’s been a long day of hauling boxes up and down stairs—and before long, I’m enveloped in fragrant steam thanks to my body wash and shampoo. It’s luxurious, like being at a spa. I can hardly believe I’ve ended up in this amazing place with this amazing man.