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“You were friends with Aiden? But he always acted like he hated you just as much as your brothers.”
“It was better that way.” He rolled his broad shoulders. “Luca would have harassed Aiden more if he knew we were friends.”
“How did that even happen?”
“Back in high school, Luca made sure you didn’t have any classes with Aiden. He wanted you to be completely at his mercy. I had lunch with Aiden. And one day, I found him out back of the school near the parking lot. He was spray painting a scene fromThe Iliad. It’s my favorite book, so I asked if I could join him.”
“Which scene did you paint?”
“Achilles striking the final blow at Hector.”
I smiled. “Aiden loves Greek mythology.”
“Me too.” He pressed his finger to my lips to silence me. “Before you ask about Aiden, I don’t have any answers for you. Aiden is a big boy. He can handle himself.”
“But I need him.”
“You have us now, princess.” He swiped the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, his intense blue eyes laser focused on me. “We’re all you will ever need.”
“Just answer one question about Aiden.”
He groaned. “Depends on the question.”
“Did he accept my grandfather’s offer?”
He nodded.
We both knew one day they would come for me. And when they did, Aiden wouldn’t be able to fight my grandfather for much longer.
“Is he safe?”
Another nod.
“Do your brothers know you paint?”
He led me by the hand toward his king-size bed. “We only talk about work, the Knights, and you. They haven’t been in my room since we were teenagers. Not since my dad forbid me to paint.”
“I wouldn’t have survived growing up without my brother.” I moved my hand to his thigh, seeking his warmth. “Aiden made everything better. The night terrors. All the shit with our parents. That’s why he was so protective of me. Why he never wanted Luca near me.”
He gave me a knowing look.
“I miss him,” I whispered, doing my best to hold back the tears. “Every day. It’s only been a month, but it feels like years without him.”
An awkward silence passed between us.
He looked down at my hand on his thigh. His fingers grazed mine, my skin on fire from his touch. “You deserve better.”
“Than you?”
“All of us.” His voice was deep and smooth. “You’re too good for this place. For this life. So much like her.”
“Your mom?” I guessed.
He nodded, lips pressed together, deep in thought. “You remind me of her.” He traced a circle on the top of my hand with his finger. “At least what I remember.”
“What was it like for you? Losing your mom at such an early age. You were how old? Seven?”
He stared over my shoulder at the wall. “After our mom died, the house was silent. No laughter. No music. Nothing. Just fucking silence. She was the only good in our lives. The light in the darkness. Then came the violence. I adapted to my environment.”
