Sage
Three hours went by before the front door opened and closed, leaving the house in silence. Judging by the sounds coming from the kitchen, Golden washed and dried the wine glasses, then spent about fifteen minutes pacing the space between his sink and the dining room table.
Two minutes later, a knock sounded on the bedroom door.
“It’s open,” I called.
The knob twisted and Golden’s body filled the doorway, backlit by the hall light.
“Why are you sitting in the dark?” he asked.
“Just thinking.”
“About?” He closed the door behind him and leaned against it.
“Leaving.”
He nodded and looked down at the floor.
“I need to sort all of this out,” I told him. “I want to deal with this contract, deal with my father…”
Deal with you.
I couldn’t deal with Golden in the ways I wanted until I’d handled all of the loose ends in my life, and even though he’d offered to do it for me, killing my father wasn’t something I wanted on Golden’s resume. I wanted that accomplishment to be all mine. That would show that little Molinaro prick who he really needed to worry about, and it surely wasn’t my dad.
“I get it.”
“I don’t want you mixed up in any of it.”
“I already am.” Golden gave me a sarcastic laugh. “I’m supposed to be the one who ends your life, remember?”
“One of many to try,” I corrected. “And I’m 1 and 0 right now, so don’t think you’d have been able to best me if that blond fuck who drugged me couldn’t even get it right.”
Golden pushed off the door and came toward the bed. I thought—hoped—he was going to climb on top of me and let me fuck that juicy ass of his until I couldn’t see straight, but he did something far more appealing.
He kneeled.
I straightened and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, one on either side of him. He looked up at me, eyes bright with concern even in the dim light of the bedroom.
Then he sighed.
“I should have killed you in the mountains,” he said.
I threaded my fingers into his hair and gave the ends a gentle tug. “Too bad you’re a good listener.”
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he blurted, mouth twisting into a frown. He fought against my fingers and turned his stare toward the place where his knees met the floor.
“I know.”
“That’s…new,” he said.
“I know. For me too.”
He rolled his neck to the side and cast an unconvinced look up at me. “I don’t want a partner,” he whispered. “No boyfriend or anything.”
“I don’t want to be your partner,” I assured him. His shoulders relaxed from the false sense of security. I tightened my hand in his hair and yanked him forward, throwing him off balance and into me. “I want to own you.”
“No.”
