by James, Lylah
Oh.
His body covered mine, arms wrapped around me like a vise. Chest to chest. Hips to hips. My thighs caged between his strong ones. I could feel the length of his body on mine, every inch of him. Strong and warm.
His lips were soft on mine, demanding. I opened for him, without any resistance, and his tongue slid against my own. Tasting me. Licking and devouring me, like a starving lover.
My eyes fluttered closed.
Killian groaned, the vibration rumbling through my body. My chest tightened and my belly pooled with warmth. There seemed to be an insistent pulse between the juncture of my thighs, aching and almost fevered.
God, I hungered for Killian.
The kiss deepened, and when he nipped on my lower lip, almost teasingly – I whimpered while he laved the sting with his tongue. His lips left my mouth, trailing along my jaw and down my neck. His kisses whispered over my throat and the hollow of my collarbone.
My body was aflame and I burned, with such fevered need.
When Killian started to pull away, leaving me empty and suddenly cold without his tender caress, I opened my eyes. His dark gaze was already on my face. “I’m not sure if you’re an angel or a she-devil, you temptress,” he muttered.
“Why can’t I be both?”
His lips quirked with a half-smile. “I approve.”
Killian rolled over, taking me with him, so that I was half-lying on top of his body. His arm curled around my hips, anchoring me to him. My gaze darted up to the dark sky again, finding another fiery shooting star.
I wondered if this counted as a date.
Killian and I had found another place for us to meet on my father’s estate, other than the stables. It was lovely spot atop of a hill. When I found there would be a meteor shower tonight, I had asked Killian if he wanted to watch it with me. He had already agreed before I even finished my sentence.
So, here we were.
Laying on a blanket, curled in each other’s embrace. On top of a hill, under the midnight sky. Watching a meteor shower.
It started with two lonely shooting stars.
Before, soon enough, the dark sky became alight with bright neon stardust, raining down into a shower of shooting stars. So many at once – fiery and mesmerizing.
The night sky became alive.
My heart thudded at the sight of it. I had never seen something so magical.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away until the meteor shower came to a slow end, leaving only a few shooting stars in the midnight sky.
Killian’s fingers trailed along the curve of my back. “Do you miss your mom?”
I blinked at the randomness of the question. “Um, she died when I was very young, so I barely remember her. The only memory I have of my mom, and it’s so vivid, is her brushing my hair. I guess, I miss having a mother.”
Folding my arms over his wide chest, I rested my chin on my hands. My eyes roved his handsome, slightly stubbled face. “Are you close to your mother? You’ve never mentioned her before.”
“My parents,” Killian swallowed, his chest rattling with a sharp exhale. “It was an arranged marriage. I was fourteen when I found out my parents weren’t in love. In fact, they despised each other.”
“Oh.” That was harsh. I didn’t know much about my own parents’ marriage, but I heard it was marriage of love. Well, at least – my father was in love, or so he told us. He said it was love at first sight. And he instantly knew my mother was the woman for him.
“I walked in on my mother,” Killian sighed, his brows furrowed. “I found her in bed with another man, the very same bed she was supposed to share with my father. Two months later, I realized my father was a cheater too. They slept with other people during their marriage, never faithful to each other. Their marriage was a farce.”
My fingers brushed his cheek, feeling his rough stubble under my fingertips. I placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. I didn’t know why I did it, but it was almost instinctual. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
Our eyes locked and I saw what I needed to see in his dark gaze. Longing.
“When I was sixteen, they finally got a divorce. It was a scandal and the tabloids turned it into an ugly warfare, but my mother didn’t care. That night she left for France with her new beau and in the last ten years, she’s had about four new lovers. She’s living her best life, traveling the world with the money my father deposits in her bank account every month.”
How cruel. My mom died when I was too young to remember her. While Killian’s was still alive, but he was also without a mother.
My chest tightened, my heart aching at his words. “You’re not close to your mother.”
He shook his head. “Not at all; she wasn’t mother material. My father raised me. I’m not particularly close to him, but we get along.”
Killian was silent for a moment, before he rolled over until we were both lying on our sides. Chest to chest, hips to hips, face to face.
Our bodies were aligned and his fingers curled around my hip. “I want my marriage to be full of love and laughter, Grace. I don’t want something fake or a ruse to fool the public. I want something real.”
My heart squeezed and I bit my tongue until the taste of the copper tang of blood filled my mouth. It was almost like Killian knew. But he couldn’t. If he was still calling me Grace, he didn’t know my truth.
And that was the moment I could have undone my lies.
I wanted to scream that I was Julianna, but I only bit on my tongue harder, until it bled more. It wasn’t fair to him, not when he was practically begging me for something real.
The back of my eyes burned and I blinked the tears away. God, the pain. It hurt. The pressure on my chest grew heavier, more intense. It felt like thorny vines had wrapped themselves around my heart, crushing me. My skin crawled with the bitterness of my lies. My body recoiled with how ugly my secrets were.
“I know we’re basically already betrothed. Our fathers have finalized this arranged marriage, but I want to make it official with you.” Killian spoke, his voice strong and confident.
He brought my left hand to his lips and my eyes widened at the sight of the ring. When did he – Oh God.
“When you were looking at the shooting stars,” he answered my silent question.
I stared at the ring, a cushion-cut halo diamond ring. It wasn’t too big or too fancy; it was perfect. Killian had chosen a ring that suited me and my preferences.
“Marry me, Gracelynn,” he rasped.
“Are you… asking me or telling me?” I stuttered.
He grinned. “I don’t want to ask because I fear you’ll say no and I’m the mad bastard who doesn’t want to give you that choice, but fuck it, I’ll do it the proper way. The proposal you deserve, Princess.”
Killian nipped the tip of my finger, almost teasingly. Before he licked the sting away, his tongue laving over the burn. The tension between my legs was back again, intense and aching. His dark gaze glinted with mischief, as if he knew the effect he had on my body.
“Will you marry me?” he asked. “Spend the rest of your life with me? I don’t want something fake. I want a real marriage. Love and obsession. Laughter and tears. I want all the ugly and the beautiful that comes with a marriage. Can you give me that, Grace?”
I nodded my head, voicelessly.
Killian’s eyes flared with adoration.
His lips touched mine.
And my heart withered.
I was a deceitful woman.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE PAST
Julianna
“You gotta stop staring at your ring,” Gracelynn teased. “Did you even hear anything I said?”
My head snapped up while I rubbed my thumb over the ring. “Huh? Sorry, what did you say?”
Was it possible to grow attached to a ring? It wasn’t because of materialistic reasons. But more because it represented Killian’s love for me. I’ve always dreamed of a fairy-tale romance, and I guessed… I got i
t.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it was my fairy tale, nonetheless. Riddled with more imperfections than what the naked eyes could see, more flaws than the love story I had dreamed – but it was mine.
My sister placed her hands on her hips, giving me a haughty look, but she was grinning. “Oh, wipe that smile off your face. You’re so in love it’s almost cheesy.”
I spun my ring around my finger, feeling the weight of it. “Please, I have to endure you and Simon giving each other heart eyes all the time. Now, that’s cheesy.”
“To be in love,” Gracelyn sighed. “Is such a wonderful feeling. How did we get into such an impossible situation?”
I half-shrugged, the pressure on my chest was back again. Weighing me down. “Did you tell Simon yet?”
“I haven’t but I think he knows. I woke up last night to his head on my stomach.” Her brows furrowed and I hated the look of despair on her face. I knew she was probably thinking about her… plans.
My lips parted and I was ready to tell her to forget her plans and that we would figure something else out. But the knock of my door interrupted us.
“Gracelynn?”
We both flinched at our father’s voice. I bounced off my bed and practically tore my engagement ring off my finger, giving it to my sister.
“Come in,” Gracelynn squeaked, hastily dragging the ring onto her finger. It was slightly too small for her and I could see how tight it was around her finger.
Our father walked in, the air practically crackling with intensity. He was tall, although not as tall as Killian. Bishop Romano walked with a confident stature; his shoulders squared. At the sight of his two daughters together, he gave the rare smile he only reserved for us.
“I heard a rumor. That your fiancé has given you a ring,” Father said, coming to stand in front of Gracelynn. “Let me see so I can judge if he has given my daughter what she is worth.”
Our father grasped Gracelynn’s hand in his and his brows wrinkled. He let out a humph in response. “It’s smaller than what I would expect from a Spencer.”
“It’s perfect,” I said, defensively. Before I could stop myself or think it through. How could he judge Killian’s love for me with just a stone? It wasn’t fair. Killian could have afforded a million-dollar ring easily, with a huge diamond, but he chose to give me this one – because he knew it was what I’d preferred.
Something simple and elegant.
My father shot me a confused glance, but Gracelynn was already clearing her throat, bringing his attention back to her. “I like it,” she said, giving our father a perfect smile.
Even I would have believed her if I didn’t know the truth already.
He cupped her cheek, smiling. “My daughter deserves nothing less than the most expensive stone in the world.”
“Killian knows my preferences,” Gracelynn explained. “This ring is perfect for me.”
“If you say so.” Our father nodded. “I’m proud of you, Gracelynn. To celebrate this engagement, I’m throwing a party next weekend. It is time for the people to know that a Spencer and Romano have been joined together, by blood and loyalty.”
My eyes widened, my heart stuttering at his announcement. Father nodded at both of us before leaving. Gracelynn locked the door behind him and I slumped on the bed, shaking.
“Shit,” I cursed, as my sister came back to me. She handed my ring back, placing it in the middle of my palm. My fingers curled around the diamond ring, keeping it in my fist.
“We need to tell him the truth,” Gracelynn said.
“Father will never accept this marriage. You’re the eldest daughter –”
My sister made an exasperated sound in the back of her throat, before cutting my rambling off. “It doesn’t matter what Dad wants. Killian needs to know the truth and he’ll make the decision.”
All the warmth left my body and I felt cold, as if I had been dumped into a tub of ice. “What if…”
Gracelynn was already shaking her head. “He loves you and he’ll always choose you,” she assured me with such certainty that I almost believed her. “Dad needs this contract marriage. At the end of the day, it really doesn’t matter who Killian marries. Me or you. And anyway, you know my plans.”
Her plans… yes, of course.
Her plans would solve our messy situation but…
“How can I convince you to stay?” I whispered. My chest tightened, the ache burrowing deeper under my flesh, into my bones.
Gracelynn sat down beside me on the bed. She curled an arm around my shoulders and I wrapped mine around her waist. She sniffled and tears burned the back of my eyes. “I’m doing it for my baby and Simon,” she said, her voice breaking. “I can’t stay here.”
Bishop Romano would never accept a mere bodyguard as his eldest daughter’s husband. In fact, he would do anything to ruin Gracelynn and Simon’s relationship, if he were to come to know of it.
Simon wasn’t born with a golden spoon in his mouth. In fact, he was an orphan. Simon was common folk while Gracelynn was royalty.
Bishop Romano wasn’t exactly a bad father; he just cared more about his status in high society than his children’s happiness. His heir marrying a bodyguard, without status and without a family’s wealth, would be a disgrace to him. He would never accept such an alliance.
“Is running away really the answer?” I questioned.
“Running away is the only option,” Gracelynn whispered. “Once our father is calmed down and he marries you off to Killian… I’ll send Dad a letter. But I won’t come back until I know he accepts Simon as my love and the father of my baby.”
Gracelynn was able to launder three hundred thousand dollars from her trust fund, without our father noticing thus far. And with Simon’s savings… they had enough to settle down somewhere very far away from here.
I pulled away, swiping at my wet cheeks. I hadn’t even realized that I was crying. “Where do you plan to go?”
My sister shook her head; her grey eyes – identical to mine – were glassy and wet. “I can’t tell you. The less you know, the better it is for both of us. Because the first person dad will question when he finds out I’m gone is you.”
“Is this your final decision?”
“Yes. You’ll have Killian and I’ll Simon and my baby. It’s the best decision for both of us,” she said, resolute and unswerving when it came to her decision.
I grasped her hands in mine, squeezing.
God, I hoped so.
Two days later, Gracelynn walked into my room without knocking, her grey eyes shining with mischief. “A package from Killian,” she said, handing me the small, well-wrapped box. “It was addressed to Gracelynn. But we both knew who Gracelynn was to him. So, I believe this is yours.”
“A gift,” I gasped, taking the package from her and practically tearing through the wrapping. I opened the box, delving through all the muslin papers to find an antique looking hardcover. “Holy shit. Is that?”
My eyes darted to the thick, black spine. I already knew what the title would say, but somehow needed confirmation. When my gaze landed on the bold letters, I let out a barely audible gasp. Too in shock to even make a sound.
Wuthering Heights.
No way! This couldn’t possibly be.
“Woah,” Gracelynn breathed.
My breathing stuttered as I opened the first page, carefully… almost too scared to accidentally rip a page. A paper, folded in half, slid onto my lap and I blinked, confused. A letter? I unfolded it to find Killian’s careful and fine penmanship.
To my wife-to-be,
Two weeks ago, you spoke of your love for Edgar Allan Poe and the Brontë sisters. The way your grey eyes shone fierce with such eagerness in that moment, I knew what I had do.
We are engaged to be married, but I realized that while I courted you, there were no presents or flowers. I apologize, Princess.
This is me trying to rectify my shortcomings.
Therefore, here’s my firs
t courting gift to you.
A rare copy of the first American edition of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights.
“It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles,
but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.”
I remember…
Your fiancé,
Killian Spencer.
My heart thundered in my chest, almost like it was trying to escape through my rib cage.
I had thought Killian was bored while I had talked endlessly about my love for anything classic, especially Edgar Allan Poe and the Brontë sisters. I remembered him staring into my face, without saying a word, just listening. And that had made me pause, thinking that he probably found it annoying, and boring so I had switched the topic to something else.
But…
Killian was truly listening.
“He remembered my… favorite quote from the book. I only told him once, but he remembered,” I whispered, both shocked and pleased.
“Your fiancé is nuts!” my sister exclaimed. “Do you know how much this cost?”
“What?” I looked up to find her staring at her phone, gaping. Gracelynn shook her head, her jaw went slack. She turned her phone toward me, showing me her screen and her recent google search.
“This was up on an auction last week in London. A rare copy of the first edition of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights,” she explained. “The highest bidder was an American and you know what the bid was? Nine thousand pounds. Which is approximately twelve thousand dollars!”
I gaped. “No,” I breathed, appalled.
“Yes!” Gracelynn declared, before laughing.
“This is too much.” I shook my head, carefully placing the book back into the box.
Gracelynn rolled her eyes and she flicked me on the forehead. “Killian is courting you. Accept the gift. And he’s filthy rich, anyway. He can afford this and much more.”
Yes, but still…
Long after Gracelynn had left the room, I was still staring at the box. There was a phantom of an ache in my chest, delving in my heart and feeding into my soul.