“A lovely gesture, Mrs. Armand.”
Witte takes the huge bouquet of yellow roses I’ve brought to the penthouse with me. They’ll clash with everything else in Lily’s bedroom, making my pricey gift impossible for Kane to ignore – if he bothers to go into her suite at all. I’ve been stopping by a couple of days a week for the past three weeks she’s been home, and I have no idea if Kane even knows of my efforts.
Gesturing toward the living room, Witte shuts the front door behind me. “Please, make yourself comfortable while I put these in water.”
I step deeper into Kane’s domain, my heels tapping quietly. The urge to hurry is hard to resist, but I manage it. I’m irritated by my jitteriness.
Fucking Witte. I don’t know how the tight-ass does it, but he’s an even better bullshitter than Aliyah. If I had half a brain, I might fall for the warmth of welcome in his voice, but I’m not an idiot. I know he can’t stand me.
“How is she?” I ask over my shoulder, midstride, adjusting the strap of my tote bag. Took me forever to find the damn thing earlier. It’s becoming a serious pain in the ass to pull together outfits casual enough to hang out with a comatose woman yet still sophisticated and flattering enough to make me look good if I run into Kane. At least I made it here before it started raining. A summer storm is rolling in. It’s humid as hell outside, the pressure lowering.
“Mrs. Black’s condition is unchanged.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” It pisses me off that I can’t decide whether I really mean that or not. She’s just lying there like a corpse. Either die or wake up already. “We’ll just keep our thoughts positive.”
Entering the living room, I shake my head at how fucking clean everything is. Not a speck of dust anywhere. The floor shines like a spotless mirror.
Kicking off one of my high-heeled mules, I press the sweaty ball of my foot against the polished black. I expect the tile to be cool to the touch, but it’s the perfect temperature.
A shiver of desire runs through me. The extravagance of penthouse-wide heated floors reminds me of how sensual Kane is.
Jesus, I’m a fucking joke.
The condensation that outlines the shape of my toes swiftly evaporates, leaving behind only the faintest smudge. It’s quiet enough to hear my breathing. The penthouse seems sepulchral, filled with secrets I will expose. One way or another.
So many questions. And the one person who can answer them is locked away in her own mind.
I’m sliding my shoe back on when the man I can’t stop craving appears as if I conjured him in a fever dream. I force myself to look away as Kane approaches. How does a man that big move so silently?
And God is he tall. Everything in the world must feel too small to him.
“Amy.”
I shiver. His voice is a weapon, deliciously low, and it cuts through me like a well-honed blade. I turn my head, my gaze starting at the oxfords that are as highly polished as the floor, then rising to settle on the intersection of his legs. His tailors have some trick for disguising the club between his thighs. I’m guessing he got that big dick from his father because neither Darius nor Ramin is as spectacularly endowed.
Maybe that’s why Aliyah is such a bitch. She used to get plowed by a mighty cock until Kane’s dad got sick of her shit and fucked off.
Lifting my gaze, I try to find the right smile. Sincere sympathy is what I’m going for, but my mind blanks when I lock eyes with him. He’s goddamn immaculate, as Witte would say. He’s ridiculous and totally unfair perfection from head to toe. His three-piece suit looks freshly pressed but somehow still drapes possessively over muscles I know are hard and defined. Sapphires set into a fleur-de-lis pattern twinkle from his cufflinks and tie clip. His Windsor knot is so perfect it looks photoshopped, and I want to loosen it with my teeth.
His glossy dark hair would sport waves if he grew it long enough, but it always looks fresh from the barbershop because Witte handles trimming and shaving and God knows what else. I remember how those black strands felt in my hands, thick and silky. He’s got a powerfully square jaw and a firm chin, with sculpted cheekbones that direct attention to cruel, sensual lips.
Some men would be too screwed up emotionally and mentally by a miraculously returned-from-death wife to care about how they look. Not Kane. No, he’s hotter than ever. And he looks this good working from home, which he’s been doing the past three weeks since he arranged for her to be discharged from the hospital. Aliyah is furious about that. She can’t stand the existence of another woman in Kane’s life whom he considers more important. It’s almost enough to make me enjoy having Lily around.
“Hi.” I mean to say more but can’t. I spend hours planning the interactions I’ll have when I’m alone with Kane, but whenever the opportunity arises, my goddamn mouth stops working.
There’s no way around it: Kane Black is terrifying. He’s gorgeous in the way of an uncontrolled fire, so destructively mesmerizing that you’ve burned to ashes before you realize you’re in danger. He has a way of being eerily still while making you feel as if he’s whirling around you like a tornado. I’m no psychoanalyst, but I’d bet women – myself included – are aroused as much by the fear he evokes as by his physical attractiveness. It’s not pleasure alone that his type of sex appeal promises; it’s devastation.
His gaze licks over me. Kane’s eyes have always reminded me of coal. Flat, hard and unfathomably black.
Does he notice my hair? It’s her exact shade, matched to the swatch of her hair I cut the first time I visited. The difference is slight enough that no one I’ve crossed has noticed anything, but Kane is more observant than most. I didn’t cut it short, as her hair is now, choosing to stick with the style Kane’s been looking at for years in that old photo.
I’m more like the Lily he’s crazy about than she is at this point, and I’m hoping that’s working in my favor.
Abruptly, his face softens, and my breathing constricts. I don’t think he’s really looked at me since I married Darius, but he’s definitely looking now. My pulse quickens, and I shift on my feet. There’s a flask of vodka in my bag, and my mouth waters at the thought of it. I don’t care what anyone says; there’s nothing wrong with liquid courage.
He slides a hand into his pocket, casual as you please, and he’s instantly both sexier and more accessible. “Witte tells me you’ve been coming to sit with Lily a few times a week.”
I start to shrug that off – I’m just a good person doing a good thing – but then I think that’s too blasé for the circumstances. “I wish there was more I could do.”
“You’ve been reading to her.” It’s a statement, not a question.
Reaching into my bag, I pull out an e-reader and some gossip mags I picked up at the newsstand on the corner. “I don’t know what she likes, so I try for a little bit of everything.”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a half-smile, but his gaze is cool. “Romance novels.”
“Oh …” It would be my luck if Lily were another one of Suzanne’s fans. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Good to know. Well, there’s been a few in the rotation. I’ll add more.”
I’ve also told Lily dozens of stories about the many lookalikes Kane has fucked, running through the participants in my study with meticulous detail. If it’s true that the subconscious is always aware and recording info, I’ve given plenty of juicy particulars for Lily to use in divorce court.
Then again, she left him for some reason. Maybe she already knows exactly what kind of man she married. If so, perhaps she returned because she can’t stay away either.
Damn it. Not knowing her story is driving me crazy.
Kane steps closer, and I suck in a quick, surprised breath. I catch his scent, that unique blend of cedar and the beach. It’s bespoke, Witte told me when I asked. And addictive. I keep breathing in to smell him, trying not to look like I’m gulping air.
I’ve avoided being near him or even looking at him for so long, living off memories instead of the flesh-and-blood man. It’s the only way to prevent making a fool of myself.
There is nothing safe about being this close to him now. Adrenaline floods my bloodstream. Fight or flight. Or better yet, fuck. My nipples harden into painful points, and my clit swells and begins to throb.
“I appreciate it,” he says, his voice low, the words unhurried. He reaches out and gently surrounds my arm within the circle of his hand, sliding down the silk sleeve of my blouse to grip my wrist with the barest of pressures.
It’s intimate. Sensual. Dominating. And I’m here for it. Totally. I’ve dreamed of this moment for nearly two years. I sway toward him in open invitation. I want to tear into him, gouge that dusky skin until bright red drops glisten. He’d like it. He likes sex rough and animalistic – rutting like a beast who enjoys the kill as much as an orgasm.
His gaze drops to my chest, and he bares his teeth in a lightning-quick smile. It’s boyish, mischievous and utterly disarming.
“Sometimes it’s good to have family,” he murmurs absently. And just like that, Kane’s arm drops back to his side, and he withdraws. I’m dismissed in an instant.
Family?!
My horrified stare brings a spark of derisive amusement to his eyes. A split second there, then gone.
“Mr. Black.” Witte stands at the top of the two stairs that lead down into the sunken living room. “Dr. Hamid has arrived.”
Arousal turns to rage and boils up from my gut to burn my throat. I want to scream but swallow it back. Everything that’s gone wrong in my life results from crossing paths with him.
“I’ll see her in my office,” Kane instructs Witte, turning away from me.
It’s all a damn game to him, the sadistic bastard. The world is filled with people who are just tools or toys, things to be used when it suits him. Physically, he’s a big man, but his body isn’t his weapon. He doesn’t raise his voice or swing his fists. No, his chosen implement of destruction is more insidious – he prefers to mindfuck.
Fine. I like games. I built my business off gaming algorithms and perceptions to my clients’ advantage. If I can’t fuck Kane in bed, I’ll fuck up his life. I was going to do the latter anyway; I just got distracted remembering how good the former was.
If only I understood what Lily is to him, what she means to him. Is she a vulnerability? If not, can I turn her into one? His obsession with her is his weakness, but in what way? I don’t care if she can break his heart or just drag his public image through the mud. I don’t care if his personal life falls apart or Baharan takes a hit. One way or the other, he’s going to suffer. It’ll be a bonus if I can make Lily suffer. And I fucking deserve one.
My mouth curves at the thought of Kane pushed off his pedestal and broken.
I head toward the hallway leading to the room where Lily lies, oblivious.
“Amy,” he calls after me, halting my exit.
Glancing over my shoulder, I catch his eye. Anticipation bubbles up as if I hadn’t just corked it and swore it’d be the last time I did so. My brow wings up, questioning.
“Thank you.” He looks and sounds sincere.
I don’t buy it. Not at all.