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Nope. This was very wrong.
“Why are you so scared of horses?” Killian asked, looking both thoughtful and interested in what my response would be.
I gave him a half-shrug, even when I fought a shiver at the memories – they were still so vivid, though it had been almost eight years.
“I had a little accident when I was ten,” I explained. “Fell off my horse while I was learning to ride and sustained a brain injury. I haven’t been allowed near a horse since then.”
In fact, I haven’t been allowed out of my father’s estate since then.
When I was eleven, he put me in an all-girls boarding school. But when my seizures became ‘troublesome’ and my father worried that the public would come to know about my epilepsy – and what he perceived as a weakness – he pulled me out. Then, both my sister and I were home schooled.
While I rarely left the Romano’s Estate, my sister traveled to France when she became nineteen and studied fashion design for three years before recently coming back to America, a month ago.
My sister who was the real Gracelynn Romano.
And I was just… Julianna. Forgotten daughter, a shadow and a nobody.
My sister – who was to be betrothed to Killian Spencer. Our father was expecting an alliance between the Romanos and Spencers, soon enough. It was a chase for power and more wealth for him.
I knew my lie would catch up to me.
I knew Killian would soon find out that I wasn’t the real Gracelynn. I should have told him the truth by now… but I wanted to buy more time with him.
Before he became my sister’s.
So, I lied. Over and over again.
Killian clucked his tongue. “Fear can be both adaptive and maladaptive. It can be deceiving, once it holds you captive. You just have to learn how to break free.”
He strode over to me and my heart stuttered once he was close enough that I could feel his warmth. Killian braced his hands on either side of me, beside my thighs. With me sitting atop the stack of hay, it put us eye-leveled with each other. Face to face and chest to chest.
He leaned forward, so close I could smell his minty breath, could taste it on my own lips. “Do you trust me?”
My lips quivered with the tiniest smile. “Not yet.”
He nodded, once, and took a step back. “We’ll work on that,” he crooned.
I inhaled sharply and thrust the paper bag I was holding toward him. “Cookies.”
He quirked up an eyebrow in question and I chewed on my lips, suddenly feeling shy and nervous. He took the paper bag from me and peered inside.
“I made them,” I said, quickly. “Without raisins. Because last time… you said, I mean… you didn’t like the raisins. So, I made these. For you. The way you like it. Oh my God, I’m just going to shut up now.”
“Are you flustered, Princess?” Killian drawled.
“I’m not,” I snapped, but secretly swooned at him calling me Princess. He didn’t mock me, but it was almost like he enjoyed teasing me.
He brought one of the cookies to his mouth and took a small bite. His gaze roved my body, leisurely and blatant. Killian didn’t even hide the fact that he was staring. Our eyes locked and he licked his lips, deliberately slow and enticing. “Hmm, soft and sweet. The way I like it.”
Goosebumps peppered my skin and my nipples tightened. “What?” I breathed.
“The cookies, Princess.”
Oh. Right. The cookies.
“Did you think I meant something else?” he inquired, taking another bite of the cookie. Killian was so calm and composed and I was so… not calm.
“No,” I denied too quickly, and he gave me that signature crooked grin of his.
Was Killian Spencer being flirtatious?
And why did I like it?
After eating two cookies, he handed me the paper bag again. “Thank you, Grace. That was very thoughtful of you.”
Grace.
It was almost on the tip of my tongue – to tell him the truth. That I wasn’t Gracelynn. I wanted to scream that I was Julianna.
But in the end, I only nodded and smiled.
My lies tasted bitter on my tongue but I swallowed them.
For the first time in my life, I felt seen and wanted. Desired. I felt… important.
And I wanted more.
Not knowing that it would be the reason I would later lose everything.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE PAST
Julianna
Two weeks later
“Nope,” I deadpanned.
Killian stood in front of me, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the first three buttons of his black dress shirt undone. His dark hair was messy as if he had raked his fingers through them way too many times.
My gaze darted to the riding crop in his hand and then quickly back to his eyes. It was the way Killian carried himself – so confident and controlled, the air practically crackling with his dominant energy – it made me nervous and on edge.
