Page 213 of Arrow

Arrow moved closer, his hands coming up to frame my face, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“Yes.”

The honesty of it stung worse than the lie.

“Why?” I whispered.

“I made a promise to your mother.”

“What?”

“She asked me to protect you from the truth of how she died. She didn’t want you to know the true extent of what your father was capable of.”

My chest tightened. “And you just . . . agreed?”

“I agreed because I was a different man then. One who could make promises to dead women without it costing him anything.” His jaw clenched. “I never thought I’d fall in love with you, Harlowe. I thought you’d be a business arrangement. Something to warm my cock. A means to a fucking end. And then you became something I couldn’t afford to lose.” He pulled me closer, his forehead against mine. “I kept that promise because I was selfish. Because I knew if I told you the truth, if I was the one to shatter that image of your father, you’d hate me. Or worse—you’d break entirely, and I . . .” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to fix you. That you’d slip through my fingers and I’d never get you back.”

Searching his face, I looked for deception, for manipulation, for the cold calculation I’d come to expect from the men in my life. But all I saw was raw honesty—a vulnerability I’d never witnessed in him before.

Arrow didn’t do fear. He didn’t do vulnerability. But here he was, laid bare because he’d been terrified of losing me.

“You should have told me sooner,” I said, my voice breaking. “Before I fell in love with you.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Arrow went perfectly still, his eyes widening slightly—the most unguarded expression I’d ever seen on his face.

“What did you say?” he whispered, his thumb brushing away a tear from my cheek.

I could have taken it back. Could have pretended I hadn’t just exposed the most vulnerable part of myself to the most dangerous man I knew. Instead, I met his gaze defiantly.

“I said you should have told me before I fell in love with you,” I repeated, my voice stronger this time. “But it’s too late for that now.”

Arrow’s expression shifted, something fierce and possessive flashing in his eyes. “Say it again,” he demanded, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my skin prickle. “Just that part.”

“I love you,” I whispered, the words both surrender and defiance. “God help me, but I do.”

He crushed his mouth to mine, swallowing my confession in a kiss that felt like claiming, like promise, like salvation. His hands tangled in my hair, uncaring of the hours the stylists had spent perfecting it. I clutched at his shoulders, his back, needing him closer, needing to erase any space between us.

His lips burned against mine, desperate and demanding. When he pulled away, his eyes were wild, a storm of emotions.

“You love me,” he repeated, like he was testing the words, seeing how they tasted on his tongue.

“Yes,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected. “And I hate that I do.”

He laughed, the sound raw and real. “Of course you do. We’re not built for simple emotions, are we?” His thumb traced my lower lip. “I’ve wanted you since the night I watched you put a knife to Dante Ricci’s throat at that charity gala. You were eighteen, wearing a dress that made you look like sin incarnate, and he put his hands where they didn’t belong.”

I remembered that night—remembered the rush of power when I’d pressed the blade against Dante’s jugular, the way his eyes had widened in shock that Giovanni Virelli’s delicate daughter would dare threaten him.

“You saw that?” I whispered.

“I saw everything,” Arrow said, his hands framing my face. “Every time you defied your father. Every time you refused to be broken. Every time you chose to survive rather than surrender.”

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity in his gaze. “And that’s why you wanted me? Because I was damaged enough to match your darkness?”

“No,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Because you were strong enough to stand in it with me and not flinch away.”

I opened my eyes, searching his face. “My father will never stop trying to use me against you. Even after today.”

“Let him try,” Arrow said, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my skin prickle. “You’re mine now. And I protect what’s mine.”