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“No one changesthatmuch.”
I can’t help but smirk. I’m stubborn enough to make Taylor suffer with me. But she’s stubborn enough to keep pretending like she doesn’t want to ask the question that’s burning up inside of her.
What does she mean to you?
“You keep telling yourself that. It’s not like you became a mother or anything. You’re exactly the same person you were years ago, right?”
My biting sarcasm forces her to freeze in her tracks. She’s so close that I can smell the apple cinnamon spice in her hair. I can even smell Adam on her.
“The assassination attempts,” she whispers out of nowhere. It feels like she wants to keep talking just to keep herself from feeling what is obviously between us. “Was it Benedict?”
“No, it was another deranged Italian I pissed off.” If I roll my eyes anymore, I’m going to go blind. “Yes, of course it was Benedict.”
“Don’t be an asshole. You’re not exactly Mr. Warm and Cuddly,” she hisses. “Any number of people could want revenge against you. Or they could just want your money. Your houses. Your wife.”
“No one else would dare. Benedict, however—he’s got nothing to lose anymore.”
“But why Cee?”
“Are you kidding? She was my fiancée! And she was the most vulnerable. Mostly because she insisted on going back to her apartment.” I slap a hand on the wall so I don’t make a fist; fuck, these women know how to crawl under my skin and itch. “You two definitely have that in common, you know? Fucking stubborn as hell, even when it’s stupid.”
Taylor frowns. “Wait—why did she go back to her apartment?”
I turn away from her. “She moved back for a short time right after her suicide attempt.” I start walking down the corridor, knowing that she’s going to follow me.
“Ilarion!” she calls, rushing after me. “Why did she move out?”
I don’t look back. “Ask her.”
“I’m askingyou,” she insists through gritted teeth.
When I don’t respond, she reaches out and grabs my arm. I let her twist me around, but even when we’re face to face, she doesn’t drop my hand.
“What aren’t you telling me?” she demands.
“The better question is, what isn’t Celine telling you?”
I hear footsteps, and Taylor’s head snaps up along with mine. She drops my arm as though it’s on fire and a second later, one of the maids rounds the corner with a vacuum in hand.
“Excuse me, sir,” she says. “Ma’am. I’ll come back later.”
She disappears down the adjoining corridor. Taylor’s cheeks are flush with color; even her chest is pink.
“Why do you look so guilty?” I can’t help but tease her. It’s a bit of vengeance for the torment she put me through.
She tries to look indignant when she glares at me, but she mostly just looks frustrated. “I just… I don’t want it getting back to Cee that we’re…we’re—”
“Having clandestine meetings in empty hallways?”
“No!” she cries out. “That we’re more…familiarwith one another than we should be.”
“Fucking hell, Taylor. She knows that you stayed at the Diamond for weeks while she and Archie were hostages. She knows that we have a history. She knows we grew close.”
“How close, though?”
“Well, I omitted the part where I fucked your brains out.”
She cringes back. “Don’t say that so loud. And so…vulgar.”
