Oh, crap. A pit drops in my stomach and I turn to focus on the stones. Away from him. The diamonds dominate the center, their jagged edges catching every glow from the monitors, shadows crawling across the floor in fractured patterns. The chill isn’t just from the air system. It’s from the energy itself—wrong, unstable, turning this place into a tomb.
He doesn’t take the hint. “Ella, I think it’s time for us to take the next step. I know you like all your safe houses and running around town, but would you consider moving in with me?”
My mouth is suddenly dry. He’s smart, he’s sexy, he’s tall, blond, brilliant. “I can’t.”
His eyebrows arch. “Is it because of Justice Beathach?”
I choke, coughing hard even though there’s nothing in my throat. I clear it fast and then sneeze. Twice. “Why would you say that?”
“Bless you. I saw you two dance together at Alana’s wedding.”
“Oh,” I say lamely. I had even forgotten he was there.
Wesley shakes his head. “You know he’s a killer, right?”
“I do know that.” I don’t know what else to say.
I like Wesley. I like him a lot. It has been fun dating him, and it could have been even more fun if I’d let it go farther. But with Justice, it’s different. Messy. Dangerous. Half the time I want to kill him, and the other half I’m tearing his clothes off. I ripped them off once already, and the memory makes my chest burn with guilt. Even worse, I’m enjoying this game we’re playing. My brain needs the challenge, and so does Justice.
I know there’s more to life than passion and sex. I know that. Wesley is hot. He’s steady. He’s brilliant. But he isn’t Justice.
“Why is it?” he asks.
I’ve been lost in my own head. “What?”
“That girls choose the bad boys. Not just the slightly reckless bad boys, but the bad, killer-monster-to-their-souls men beyond redemption.”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m not choosing Justice.” My body might have done that, but it doesn’t mean we’re going to end up together. We don’t get along that well.
“Then why not give us a chance?” Wesley asks. He’s so reasonable.
I don’t have an answer.
He studies me for several moments. I like his attentiveness. I always have. But even so, I can’t stop comparing him to Justice, to the way Justice looks at me, the way his gaze burns straight through me. Maybe there’s something seriously wrong with me.
The hum of the server room fills the silence between us. Cold air pushes out of the vents above, steady and biting, wrapping around my arms until goosebumps rise.
Wesley leans in. “You know Justice helps run the Irish mafia, right?”
“Yes.” I sigh. “I am aware of his job.”
“Then why in the world would you want to get involved with him?”
It’s such a good question. “I’m not. I think you and I have nothing to do with anybody else. I like you, Wesley. A lot.”
He leans back in his chair and groans. “Oh no. Not the ‘I think you’re a great guy, Wesley’ speech.”
I wince. “You are a great guy.”
“Oh God, Ella, stop talking.” He runs a broad hand through his sandy blond hair, leaving it ruffled, making him look annoyingly adorable. “What do you want?”
It’s a good question. A fair one. “I don’t know.”
“You can’t possibly want an Irish mobster who kills people for fun.”
“No. I really don’t.” I swallow. “The whole killing-for-fun thing has never appealed to me. But I don’t think that’s Justice.” Oh, I realize that he’s killed people, but I don’t think he has any fun with it.
“You don’t know him.” Wesley snorts. “Honey, I’ve been in this business my whole life. I know him.” He sobers. “Besides him being a very poor choice for you and an unsafe one, you’ve got to step back and look at the larger picture. Alana and Thorn are married. That means Aquarius Social and Malice Media are aligned. Although you’re on the outs with Sylveria, you are TimeGem.”
