Page 172 of Lethal King

“Yes, sir,” he nods, before quickly scurrying off to the kitchen.

It takes me a second to grasp what he just did.

“Rian, I wasn’t asking for—”

But he isn’t having it. Raising a finger to his lips, he calms me down.

“Just enjoy it, angel,” he says. “Now, let’s start. Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.”

“Why?” I gulp, terrified about the idea of opening up, but not quite willing to dismiss this warm little moment either.

“Because I want to get to know you. The real you.”

“… What if you don’t like the real me?” I hear myself whisper.

“Wouldn’t that make you happy?” Rian chuckles. “A reason to start hating me again.”

That piques my interest.

“Who says I ever stopped hating you?”

“I did. No more games, Roz. Only truths. Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.”

Reaching out across the table, Rian leans back onto his forearms. Those ocean blue eyes swim through my chest, crashing against my heart.

“Will you do the same for me?” I ask.

Rian’s smile softens. His dimples deepen.

“I’ll tell you anything, angel. But let’s start with the truth.”

23

Rian

The first round of appetizers arrives before our conversation can get any deeper.

Plates of avocado bruschetta, crab palmiers, wagyu steak skewers, and spicy crab salad tapas fill the table as a private team fulfills my order.

“We’re not going to be able to finish all of this food,” Rozalia notes, her big green eyes popping at the feast being laid out before us.

“We’ll take the leftovers to the nearest woman’s shelter,” I shrug, studying her reaction. “Then maybe the closest orphanage, after that.”

Sure enough, the word ‘orphan; triggers something in my reluctant date. “It will be past their bedtime…” she whispers, momentarily drifting back into the past, into her past.

“Think of how happy they’ll be to wake up to so much food.”

“No,” Rozalia says, shaking her head. “This food is too good for them. They can’t know what they’re missing out on. It will only make them miserable. If you want to bring something to the orphanage, bring some basic bread and cheese. That’s what I used to like best. It won’t get their hopes up. It won’t make them pine for a future they’ll never have…”

“Is that what happened with you?” I carefully prod. “Did Drago get your hopes up?”

Rozalia looks up from the food. “I’m not here for a therapy session,” she sneers, realizing where this is going.

“How about a date?”

“I wouldn’t know how to act on a date.”

“You’ve never been on a date before?” I ask, flabbergasted.