The Nightshades found love, whispers a traitorous thought that makes my chest ache. Whatever they found with their wives… Roan and I aren’t even close to that. This is just?—
The bedroom door opens.
I jolt upright with a squeal and dive under the blanket, the sheet sticking to my skin. My heart’s in my throat, pounding so hard I can barely breathe.
Dhimitër stands in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression somewhere between furious and deeply unimpressed.
“What the fuck?” Roan mutters, sitting up, towel barely hanging onto his hips.
My face burns with heat, and I’m not sure if it’s from embarrassment or the harsh slap of reality slamming back into me, but I stay under the covers, hiding my burning face against Roan’s side like that might make me invisible.
“I didn’t give you the key to my house so you can come and go as you please, barging in like a goddamn lunatic,” Roan snaps as he rolls off the bed. “Get out.”
“I’ll wait for you downstairs,” Dhimitër says flatly, then spins on his heel and leaves.
Dhimitër also probably knows the truth about my identity by now, and he never liked me in the first place, so this is just fantastic.
When the door clicks shut, I let out a long, mortified groan and bury my face into the mattress. “I want to die.”
Roan chuckles—low and rough and entirely too amused by my suffering—as he picks up a pair of sweatpants from the armchair and pulls them on. “You’ll live.”
Then he walks out of the bedroom without looking back, presumably to go deal with his second-in-command.
26
ROAN
I pull on a pair of sweats, jaw tight as a vice, still feeling the lingering heat of Katie’s skin on mine as I leave the bedroom and head downstairs. My hair’s dripping, but I don’t bother drying it. I’m too fucking annoyed to care.
Dhimitër is waiting in the living room—slouched on the couch like he owns the damn place, one leg crossed over his knee, arms stretched across the backrest like he’s just relaxing and not about to get his ass handed to him for walking in on something that wasn’t his business.
“Give me my key.” I hold out my hand, palm up, waiting with barely contained anger.
He reaches into his pocket as he sits up, then drops the small metal key into my palm.
I close my fingers around it, the edges biting into my skin, fighting the urge to whip it straight at his skull. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He shifts his weight, like he’s trying to get comfortable, but I can tell he’s already bracing himself for whatever bullshit he’s about to say next. “I just wanted to check in on you. You’ve beenso stoic through all this, but I know you’re taking Afrim’s death hard.” He meets my eyes directly. “I’m worried about you, Roan.”
“I’m fine.” The words scrape out between clenched teeth.
He sighs, clearly not believing me. “Look, I get it. Being with her probably helps. She’s a pretty distraction, sure—but you need to get your head clear. She might still be hiding a lot of shit. Deal or no deal, she’s still the enemy. Still unpredictable as hell. You really think fucking her is a good idea?”
My whole body goes rigid, and I move closer to him, blood roaring in tandem with my heart in my ears. “Get out,” I say quietly, refusing to raise my voice. But I don’t need to. The threat is clear enough.
Dhimitër gets to his feet, his face expressionless as he searches my gaze. “Roan…”
“Out,” I repeat. He starts walking towards the front door without further protest, and right as he pulls it open, I stop him with words that surprise even me. “And don’t ever talk about her that way again.”
He pauses mid-motion, glancing back to give me a double take. His eyes widen slightly before his lips thin into a hard line at whatever he sees on my face—whatever I’m not hiding well enough. But he gives me a slow, reluctant nod, his jaw tight, and walks out without saying another word.
I lock the door behind him, then head back upstairs, my heart still pounding harder than I want to admit. I don’t know when the hell it shifted for me—when this thing with her became more than just sex and deceit and the need to prove something to myself.
But it has shifted.
And I’m not fucking stupid. I know what’s at stake.
I open the bedroom door to find her sitting up against the pillows, the sheet pulled over her chest, her hair still damp andskin beautifully flushed. Her eyes snap to mine right away, and she tilts her head at me in a questioning little gesture.
