But it’s not.
He’ll be back in LA now. When I told Killian he’d been here, he looked at me and shook his head.“Sorry, Sin. He was just here tying up some loose ends.”
He came all the way back to New York, and he didn’t even want to speak to me, or see me face to face. I can’t blame him. He probably thought I’d be with Brad.
Monty’s barking and scratching wildly at the base of the door. He can probably smell Molly if she’s with Sullivan. He adores her.
I open the door without checking the peephole and Monty flies out.
“Hey, Moll?—”
My eyes are cast down at the height I’m expecting my niece’s face to be. But instead of her, there are two black suited legs, and a large hand fussing Monty as he scrabbles against them like he’s trying to climb up to their face so he can assault them with licks.
“Go on, Boy. Sit,” a deep, authoritative voice commands.
Monty does as he’s told and backs through the doorway, his butt wiggling side to side as he sits beside me, obediently.
My throat goes dry as my visitor lifts his head, straightening up to full height.
And then I’m staring into gold-flecked green.
“Denver?” I breathe.
He doesn’t react. His eyes give nothing away as he stares at me with a cold detachment that has my heart falling to my feet. I curl my hand around the door for support, willing myself not to give in to the burning tears threatening my eyes.
His eyes drop, scanning over my body ruthlessly in my vest and sweatpants. I feel naked and exposed as his attention snags on where I’ve had to roll the waistband over itself to keep them up where I’ve lost weight. His brow furrows like he’s pissed.
He continues his inspection of me, and I shiver, goosebumps pricking up over my arms as I drag in a shaky breath and the scent of him fills my senses. I breathe in quickly again, just to convince myself that it’s real. That he’s really standing in front of me.
“Den—”
He lifts two fingers in the air, silencing me.
His eyes leave my waist and move up my chest. Air puffs from between my lips in a soft pant as my nipples pebble painfully beneath my vest at his attention. His eyes glide over them swiftly, and my stomach drops as he displays no interest.
Jaw set firm, his eyes dark and closed off, all muscle and solid strength. His gun holstered at his hip, just visible beneath his open jacket.
He looks downright terrifying.
Finally, he looks at my face.Reallylooks. He stares at my jaw, at my trembling lips, at my hair falling against one cheek.
Then he looks into my eyes.
I don’t move. I don’tbreathe.
“I’m going to ask you once. And this time, you tell me the truth,” he says, his voice a rough, deep gravel that I desperately cling on to, taking in every note after weeks of silence.
I nod. “I promise.”
His eyes pinch at the corners a fraction, the tiniest fragment of emotion flashing through them before he blinks it away. “Brad Garrett-Charles?” he says.
The air leaves my lungs in a rush, and I lean into the door, my nails digging into the wood to hold me up. “No,” I sob. “What you saw at the party… henevertouched me.”
“You knew I was coming, didn’t you?”
My voice shakes as I nod. “I called Sullivan, and he told me you were on your way back. I knew you’d come here.”
“You wanted me to walk in and find you in bed with another man.”
