Page 8 of Toxic Kiss

Out here, I’m not anyone’s daughter, not the girl left behind, not the one haunted by Cyrus fucking Vale. Out here, I’m just Haven, loud and alive and free to be whoever I want.

And then, because the universe is a cruel bitch, Venomous hits the radio with their number one song, Cherry on Fire. Are you kidding me with that name?

My throat tightens before the first chorus. The song is too upbeat, pop-sweet with its shiny hooks.

She’s cherry on fire, sweet with a sting,

Dancing through danger like it don’t mean a thing.

Wrapped up in silk, yeah, she’s trouble tonight,

Kissing like chaos under red neon lights.

Catchy, sure. Marketable, definitely. But him? Cyrus Vale doesn’t belong in gooey bubble-gum pop. He belongs in shadows, in rage, in songs that bleed and make you want to cry.

I stab the button and flip the station, my chest heaving. Having to listen to him for work is one thing. But on my highway? My time? Fuck that.

Hozier is my go-to choice to drown out Cy’s voice. Drumming the wheel, swaying like a reed in the wind, my heart softens because Hozier always gets me. And then my phone lights up, and the car cuts the music with the call. Charles.

“Hey there.”

“Hello, beautiful. How is the newest rock star employee at LG Records, and my future wife?”

I smile because Charles is always quick with a compliment.

“I wish you were here for the drive.”

He sighs. “Me too. But the transfer to the LA office hasn’t been confirmed yet. A few more weeks, hopefully no more than a month.”

I slump against the seat.

“What happened to two weeks?”

“They’re swamped, I have obligations, and no one can take my open cases. I can’t push it, babe. I just made junior partner. I’m the youngest in the firm’s history. I don’t want to risk it.”

“Yeah, I know. I just miss you.”

He laughs. “You’re pouting. You’ve got that look…lip pushed out…that always gets me hot.”

He’s right, of course.

“Maybe that look can convince you to come visit? We can finally get some wedding plans sorted.”

“May…be,” he teases with a laugh. “That I can probably swing. I’ll check my case list and let you know,” Charles says, and my smile is back. “Do you know where you’re stopping for the night?”

“Yeah, my father insisted on making all the arrangements. I’m staying in Illinois at that hotel he loves, High Manor.”

“Very fancy. I’d better get back to work, but I miss you already. Text me when you get to High Manor safely.”

“Will do. I love you.”

“Love you too, Teddy Bear,” he says, and ends the call.

I groan, rolling my eyes at the nickname.

The memory comes back in a rush.

The first night we met, I crashed at his place after a party. Vodka twists, music, too many shots, and somehow, I passed out on his floor in nothing but my underwear, clutching an oversized stuffed bear like it was a life raft.