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He cut through his chicken and brought his fork to his lips. “There’s no love where there is hate,” he said, before popping the small piece of chicken into his mouth.
“There’s a fine line between love and hate, Killian.”
“Not for us.”
“Not for us,” I agreed. For the vows I took were sacred while his were tarnished with vengeance. Our love story was doomed from the beginning.
The rest of the dinner was silent, with only the sound of our cutlery against our plates echoed within the walls.
Once our plates were cleared, Killian pushed his chair back and he stood up, throwing his napkin on the table. “Are we done here?”
My stomach hollowed and I nodded. He walked away without another word, quickly disappearing around the pillars. Once he was done, I grabbed for my black veil, my fingers shaky as I pinned it in place, once again.
I didn’t know what exactly I expected to come from these dinners, the short time we were to spend together. Maybe I wanted a glimpse of the real Killian behind that cold, hateful exterior.
Or maybe I wanted him to see the real Julianna.
I wanted Killian to move on – to fall in love again, with a woman who deserved him more than I did. But here I was, making stupid decisions that were only bringing us closer than putting distance between us.
Though, the closer we got…
The harder it became to protect my lies and my secrets.
It was a dangerous game I was playing and if I wasn’t careful, Killian might just end up hating me even more.
For the truth was worse than my secrets – and our reality.
Killian
A week later
I downed the whiskey, feeling it burn my throat, but fuck, that was exactly what I needed. I dragged the comforter over my lap and leaned against the headboard. I must have slept for only two hours.
It had been a week since I came back to the Island, a week since I was living in the same goddamn place as Julianna, a week since I was forced to sit and have dinner with her.
Her presence taunted me.
I knew Julianna was trapped within her own heartbreak. I saw the torment in her eyes; eyes that looked so much like Gracelynn’s.
Her grey eyes, like the smoke after the fire, after the burn... like the fucking ashes we were laying in. They got darker and greyer when she was angry. Those unique green speckles, sometimes they hid behind the grey, sometimes they were so vivid in her eyes.
Her fucking eyes remind me of... what I lost.
It was torture, watching the woman who killed my heart, walk around the halls of this castle, alive and breathing. Julianna carried Grace’s ghost with her, mocking me.
The rage festered, growing darker… deadlier.
Her soul was so well entangled with mine, I could feel her torment and I breathed it. Her pain fed the monster lurking beneath my skin.
My phone rang, snapping me out of my thought, and after checking the caller ID, I picked up the call. “Dad,” I greeted.
“You really thought you could fool me, Killian,” he said in greetings, his voice slow and breathy. Sick.
My brows pulled up in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“I have eyes everywhere, son.”
Fuck.
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’ve done what you asked me to do. She compromised with me and I allowed her. I’m being a gentleman, like you asked.”
Dad clucked his tongue at me, in a dismissive manner. “Do you take me for a fool, Killian?” he asked, repeating his earlier words.
“No.”
I heard a rustle in the background and I imagined he was still in bed. It was still early in the morning, after all. “Maybe in your dictionary, being a gentleman means humiliating your wife every chance you get.”
My eyes widened and my stomach heaved. Double fuck. How did he come to know about this?
“What? How–”
He cut me off. “Three weeks left until the masquerade ball. Don’t you dare mess this up, Killian. You have three weeks to stop acting like a grumpy child and more like the man I expect you to be. I raised you better than that.”
I rubbed my temple, where a headache was starting to form. “Yes, I understand.”
He hung up and I threw my phone on the bed, fighting back the urge to break something.
My father was having me watched. Every single moment of my day was being reported back to him.
Goddamn it!
So, it was either Emily or Stephen.
Or could it be Gideon?
Four hours later, I found Julianna walking in the garden, taking her sweet time to check on the flowers that have recently bloomed. Today, she was wearing an emerald blouse, tucked into her pillowy white, ankle-length skirt. And of course, her black lace veil covered her face.
While Gracelynn’s hair was a platinum blonde, almost white in the sunlight, Julianna’s was black and shining. Gracelynn used to walk with an elegance, a sway in her hips, but Julianna walked with a limp. Her sister was modest and never argumentative, but my wife fought back, giving me a piece of her mind with everything I threw at her.
