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His sexy green eyes go wide at the admission. “So why didn’t you?”

“It’s not as easy to work into a conversation as you seem to think.”

“It’s not that hard, either. Maybe something along the lines of, ‘Hey, Kian, I know your tongue’s in my mouth right now, but I thought I should mention that I used to fuck your brother.’ See how easy that was?”

“Don’t you mean, Prince Kian?” I know the snotty comeback will only exacerbate th

e situation, but I can’t help myself. I’m furious, with him, with myself, with the whole situation.

I absolutely should have found a way to tell him about Garrett, I know that. But it’s not easy to get the words out, especially with Garrett missing. It’s why I ducked out when I did at the gala, why I refused to give Kian my name, let alone my number. And it’s why I told him—even yesterday—that our getting together wasn’t a good idea.

My relationship with Garrett was over five years ago—and no matter how I felt about him at the time, it would never have gone anywhere anyway. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t awkward to talk about, especially considering how attracted I am to Kian and how, in the six months we were together, Garrett never made me feel half as much as Kian did in six minutes.

But all this is just a little too much for me right now, not to mention more soul-searching than I’m up for. And since all Kian looks capable of doing at the moment is glaring at me through narrowed eyes, we might as well wrap this up.

“Look, are we done here? It’s late and I want to get home. So if you don’t mind—”

“Seriously? That’s all you’ve got to say to me? That it’s late?”

“What do you want me to say? I already admitted I was wrong but it’s obviously not enough.” Annoyed—with Kian and myself—I shove his hand off of me and take a couple big steps back. “You ambush me out here, accuse me of being a crown chaser among other things, manhandle me in front of your bodyguards—”

“Is that what you think this is?” he interrupts, and his hand is right back where it started. Only this time, his thumb is stroking back and forth across the hollow of my throat as his green eyes blaze into mine. “Manhandling? Because, sweetheart, let me tell you. I’d be happy to handle you a whole hell of a lot more than I currently am.”

His other hand comes up to rest on my waist, his fingers stroking over a sliver of skin at the small of my back, where my shirt has ridden up. I’m not sure what it says about me or this whole situation, but it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to arch into his touch.

“Is that a threat?” I demand, trying to sound disgusted even though every nerve ending in my body is suddenly on fire.

“I was thinking of it more along the lines of an invitation.” His gaze skims down my body and I know the exact moment he realizes—even in the dim light—that my nipples are hard.

I shrug him off, cross my arms over my breasts to hide my unexpected and unwanted arousal. “I thought you believed I’m only after your title?”

“You wouldn’t be the first woman I fucked who was,” he says so carelessly that I know I hit a nerve. “Probably won’t be the last. As long as I get to come, I don’t give a shit who I’m fucking.”

Behind him Lucas looks mortified.

I know he’s trying to insult me—and I am insulted—but there’s such an element of poor little rich boy in what he’s saying, and what he’s not saying, that I can’t help feeling bad for him. Especially when I remember how Garrett used to worry about him, because Kian was so much more vulnerable than he ever let anyone know.

It’s that memory that keeps me from telling him to go to hell and it’s that memory that has me reaching out to place a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry about Garrett, and about everything you’re going through right now. You don’t deserve it and it isn’t what he would have wanted for you.”

He recoils like I’ve slapped him, every part of him—physical and emotional—pulling away. But not before I see the flash of vulnerability in his eyes. Not before I see the pain he’s working so hard to keep hidden.

It’s gone as quickly as it came, and then he’s bending down a little, getting in my face. “Tell me the truth. What do you want from me? Why did you come up to me the other night? Why did you start this whole thing?”

“Because you looked miserable. Because I remembered the way Garrett used to talk about you, and how—when he did—I felt close to you even though I’d never met you. Because he would have wanted me to.” They’re all valid reasons, and they’re all true. And if I’m leaving one out—about how I’d always wanted to meet him and Anastasia even though Garrett had made it clear that was off-limits—no one needs to know about that but me.

Except Kian’s face crumples at my words, and suddenly his hands are on my shoulders, his fingers biting into my flesh as he grates out, “Tell me. Please. Tell me one thing my brother told you about me. About us.”

Chapter 10

Kian

For long seconds, I don’t think Savvy is going to answer. And I want her to. I really, really want her to. I don’t know why it’s so important, why I think some almost stranger’s recollections of a story my brother told her about me—about us—is somehow going to be more powerful than what I myself recall.

But then I remember those pictures I found, remember how happy they looked in them. How in tune they were. And I need to know.

“It’s okay,” I say, trying to be reassuring. “I’m done being mad. It’s just, there’s obviously this whole part of his life that I knew nothing about and I just…I want to know.”

Savvy just shakes her head, glances uneasily over my shoulder. And that’s when I realize she’s looking at Lucas again.


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