Waylon called Liesel his wife.
She had to have warned him before I got here to call her that, to pretend they are married. Right?
Liesel Dunn can’t be married.
Can’t. Be.
My steel heart hardens. It won’t break. It won’t even crack. Not for her.
Liesel may think Waylon calling her his wife is confirmation that she’s married, but it’s not. I want her to tell me the truth. Sure, I could look up her marriage license with the city, but what fun is that?
No, after her little stunt, I’m going to pull every truth I can from her, until the truth kills her.
5
Liesel
Langston walks out the door, and then it slams shut.
I stand frozen—pretending I’m in shock. I am, but not because Langston threatened my life. In fact, he offered to give me more time if I told him the truth. He gave me a chance to save my life if only I answered one question.
The only problem is that I don’t know the answer because I don’t know the question. I don’t know what specific truth matters above all others. The one that matters beyond the secrets only I know from the ripped paper.
None of that is the reason I’m in shock.
That fucking kiss.
Waylon runs over to me and consumes me in his muscular arms, yanking me against his hard chest.
“Shh, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I won’t let that man or anyone hurt you,” Waylon says.
I should feel safe with his arms around me. His thick chest is as protective as any armor. His soothing voice normally eases my tensions.
Instead, I feel rattled. My body trembles, and I feel empty.
My brain is trying to process Waylon’s words. I’m trying to come up with a plan to explain Langston to Waylon. To figure out how to defeat Langston while keeping myself and Waylon safe.
But.
That.
Kiss.
I planned it, knowing that it would knock Langston off balance. It would bring him in close and help me set a trap where Waylon would find us close.
But I was the one knocked askew as soon as our lips touched. The spark at our touch took hold of every nerve ending and brain cell in my body. The entire time he was kissing me, I forgot about my plan. I forgot that Langston is the enemy.
“You’re trembling. It’s okay, baby. Try to take a deep breath. You’re safe,” Waylon says.
He doesn’t realize that I’m not safe. I’m never safe.
I take a deep breath—trying to shake the sparks still shooting off my body. My adrenaline is up, which is probably why I’m shaking. I crave more kisses, more of his touch, just more.
I won. I won’t let the memories of Langston take the victory from me. He doesn’t get to win by taking my thoughts, my cravings, my body.
I grip onto Waylon’s forearms while I lean back, looking into his eyes.
He smiles down at me sweetly. He really is a sweet, kindhearted man. He’s what I need, not Langston.
“Kiss me,” I whisper. I meant to speak stronger, more assertively, but I’m too shaken up. As much as I want to get rid of Langston’s touch, I also want to wallow in it, no matter how much pain it will eventually bring me. I don’t want to forget Langston’s kiss, but I need to.
Waylon, who can never deny me, leans down and plants the softest kiss, barely brushing his lips against mine. That won’t be enough to wipe Langston from my memory.
I reach up, grabbing onto his sculpted neck and parting his lips with my tongue, pushing deep inside his mouth, begging for him to kiss me with all of his passion.
Waylon takes the hint. He’s so perceptive, always listening to the little clues I give him.
He pushes me back until my ass is against the counter. His hands grip my hips firmly but not in a controlling way. His thick, hard muscles push against me until I feel his cock pressing against my stomach. His tongue sweeps in my mouth, commanding my attention as it dances over mine.
I should feel that all-consuming, heart-stopping, breathless emotion. That emotion one step below love or, at the very least, deep lust.
This kiss is barely getting my heart thumping, though. My body didn’t come alive. The spark didn’t fan into flames. And worst of all, it didn’t wipe any memory of Langston’s kiss from my brain, my body, my heart.
Langston is just a good kisser. That’s all it is.
There is no way a man like that kissed me while married. If he is married, he sure as hell isn’t in love. You can’t kiss another woman if you love your wife.
“Liesel?” Waylon asks, searching my eyes for my thoughts as he pulls away.
I shake off the memories, but that will only last for a moment at best before Langston will weasel his way back into my head. It’s clear Waylon must have asked me a question, but I didn’t hear it.
“Sorry, I’m still a little frazzled. What did you say?”
Waylon’s hands are still on me, afraid I’ll fall to pieces. He’s probably right, but it’s because of that damn kiss, not because I had a knife pressed against my neck.
“Can you tell me what happened before I actually call the police?” Waylon asks.
I take a deep breath as I prepare the lie. “There was a knock at the door after you went to the shower. I assumed it was a package being delivered. When I opened the door, he grabbed me and held a knife to my throat. He told me he wanted money and information about your campaign plans. And then you walked in.”
“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.” Waylon pulls me to him again.
“It’s okay. I’m okay now, but I think we should hire some security.” Security won’t stop Langston, but it might slow him down.
Waylon nods. “I agree. I’ll double the amount of security we were planning. And I think we should start my campaign for governor as soon as possible. Actually being on the campaign trail will make a statement to those trying to attack us that we aren’t afraid. That we have security who will protect us and throw any criminal who comes at us in jail.”
“I don’t think we should call the police.”
“Why not?” Waylon wrinkles his forehead.
“We don’t want anyone to know we were attacked. Our security team can find the man who did this without a public investigation.”
His eyes roll up for a minute, and then he lets out an exacerbated breath. “You’re right. It just means you can’t go anywhere without security or me by your side. No more answering doors by yourself. Are you okay with that?”
I suck in a breath. No, I’m not okay with that. It means giving up control to someone else, relying on someone else for protection. It’s what I did when I was part of Enzo’s gang of minions. I vowed to never do it again.
But this isn’t about keeping me safe, not really. It’s about doing everything I can to protect Waylon.
“I understand.”
Waylon’s raised shoulders relax as he exhales.
“You have no idea how terrified I was watching that man hold a knife to your throat. I never want to be that scared again. I’d give up everything—my work, my campaign, my money, my life to never have you threatened again. I can’t lose you, my love.”
I put my arms around Waylon. “I can’t lose you either.”