Moonlight Sins

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  Words slipped away, dying in the silence between them as she stared at the items before her. Two certified checks. One was the bonus Lucian had promised her. She’d never seen so many zeroes after a number in her life. The other had to be her pay, but it was so much more than what she’d been hired at.

  Heart thumping, she brushed the checks aside and gasped. A first-class ticket back to Harrisburg, scheduled for tomorrow morning was staring back at her.

  She blinked and then shook her head. Foolish gesture, because the items didn’t disappear. They were there, and even though her brain was screaming at her, telling her what they meant, her heart didn’t want to listen or believe.

  Slowly she lifted her gaze to him. “What is this about?”

  “You know what those things are.”

  Julia flinched at the biting coldness in his voice. Closing the file, she gripped it in one hand as she rose. “Yes, I know what they are. I’m not stupid. What I don’t understand is why.”

  His chin lowered as he lifted a hand, running it over his hair. “You also know why, Julia.”

  She drew in a shaky breath as her stomach dipped in a way that made her feel like the floor was moving under her feet even though she was standing still. “You want me to leave? To go home and . . . ?”

  “We threw in extra,” he said flatly, keeping his back to her. “For your pain and suffering—”

  “And for me to keep my mouth shut?”

  The muscles along his back stiffened. “I didn’t say that. I know you wouldn’t tell anyone what you saw here—what happened here. You’re a good person.”

  Her fingers dug into the folder as pressure clamped down on her chest. “I’m a good person, but you’re paying me off—”

  “I don’t want you to see it like that,” he said in that same damn voice. Emotionless. Flat. “But if you do, that is your choice.”

  “My choice? Are you fucking kidding me? None of this is my choice. You are making these choices for me.”

  Lucian dropped his hand to his side.

  She forced herself to take a slow, even breath even though she felt like screaming. “I know you’ve been through a lot, Lucian. I know you need time to deal with this, but pushing me away—”

  “I’m not pushing you away, Julia.” His hands closed into fists. “I’m ending this.”

  Her mouth opened, but there were no words for what felt like an eternity. Her chest cracked. Splintered like it was a dry twig. “I—”

  “Richard and Livie have your belongings packed. They’ve already been loaded up,” he said, silencing her. “You can take your time getting ready. When you are, Richard will take you to one of the hotels near the airport for the night.”

  Julia stumbled back a step as she stared at him. A raw, bitter ball rose in her throat. The words came out before she could stop them, but the moment she said them, she knew they were true. “I love you, Lucian. I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  His spine stiffened and pulled straight, but he said nothing.

  He said not a damn thing.

  Tears blurred her vision. She looked away—her gaze fell to the bed, to where they’d just made love a handful of hours ago. Now that was like a lifetime ago, and he was ending this.

  Anger built beneath the barbed wire squeezing around her heart and slicing through her insides. “You can’t even look at me when you’re saying this?”

  Nothing.

  No response.

  The anger blew, exploding like a volcano. “Look at me!” she shouted. “Look at me and say you want me to leave!”

  There was silence and then Lucian slowly turned around. Those beautiful sea-green eyes met hers. “I need you to take the money and leave.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  His jaw clenched. “You don’t belong here, Julia.”

  As if she’d been smacked in the face, she took a step back. Her hand lifted to her mouth. Those tears dampened her lashes. Her lips trembled against her palm as the anger and sorrow ripped through her. She wanted to rage at him, but she knew if she stayed a moment longer, she would lose it. The shouting would give way to more tears.

  He just broke her heart, smashed it to pieces in a way she knew she would probably never fully recover from, but he wouldn’t destroy her pride. She wasn’t going to stand here and beg, to plead with him after he said that.

  Julia did what he asked.

  She left him.

  Lucian had no idea how much time had passed from the moment Julia walked out of the room. He hadn’t moved, but he knew it had been a while. He couldn’t erase seeing the look of betrayal on Julia’s face. If he blinked, it was there in the dark. If he opened his eyes, he saw her pale, drawn face and the bruises that stood out in stark relief. He saw the tears in her eyes.

  Over the uneven pounding of his heart, the heartbreak and then the anger in her voice echoed in his head. He wanted her to be angry, because that was easier to deal with. The hurt, though? It carved right through tissue and bone.

  Telling her to leave wasn’t what he wanted to do.

  It was what he needed to do.

  Lucian knew he’d done the right thing. It wasn’t a whiskey-fueled decision, though he’d probably drunk his weight in that shit. Even though there was a logical part of him that didn’t believe in curses, it didn’t matter in the end. He wasn’t good for Julia. Not him. Not his fucked-up family. The curse may be a crock of shit or it may be real; nonetheless, he and his family would ruin her.

  All of them had blood on their hands.

  And because he did love her—he was in love with her, he knew she deserved better than the mess that was his family—his legacy.

  His broken shards and pieces were now poisoned.

  Just like his father—fuck, that man had been his father. Bile climbed up his throat.

  In a daze, Lucian found himself standing in her room. He didn’t even remember walking there, but there he was. The bed was made, and all the little parts of Julia, of what made this room a living and breathing entity, were gone.

  It was just another room that would be locked up and forgotten. Another cold space where love should’ve grown, but somehow had gone barren or had become sick and twisted.

  Lucian closed his eyes and stumbled, his bare back hitting the wall. His hands clapped down over his eyes, palms pressing in. His throat burned. Everything burned.

  He dug his palms into his eyes, but he still saw Julia. He could still hear her, and he could still feel her warmth and softness under him. No matter how much time passed, he wouldn’t be able to shake her.

  Didn’t even want to try.

  “Fuck,” he rasped, dropping his hands. Kicking his head back, he looked around the room. Something at the head of the bed caught his attention. Stalking over to the stacked pillows, he cursed under his breath and snatched up the thin piece of paper. It fell apart.

  It was the check.

  The bonus check he’d promised to get her to stay.

  Enough money to ensure that her future would be more than comfortable.

  She’d ripped it up.

  Chapter 34

  Everything was wrong.

  Sunglasses shielded Julia’s eyes as she sat in the back of the car Richard was driving her in. The trees and buildings off in the distance were nothing but a blur to her.

  Julia felt . . . numb. Like her entire body, inside and out, had been doused in lidocaine. She didn’t even really remember putting her clothes on or where she found Richard. Julia hadn’t wasted time. She just had to get out, get away before she had a complete breakdown. She barely remembered hugging Livie goodbye. The woman had said something to her, but Julia hadn’t heard her.

  All she could hear was Lucian telling her to leave.

  All she could focus on was the heartache and anger as she’d torn up the check and left it on the bed. One day she would probably regret doing that, but she couldn’t take that money. It felt tainted and wrong somehow. The money had been used to keep her here in the
beginning and now it was being used to send her away.

  Everything was so wrong.

  Pain sliced through her, causing her to suck in a sharp breath as she stared blindly out of the window.

  You don’t belong here.

  No four words could’ve hurt more.

  She loved Lucian. As crazy as it was to even fall for him, she had. It had been scary from the moment she’d realized that she had developed feelings for him. She’d known then it had been risky. Their lives were nothing alike, and she’d struggled with the fear that she’d never fit in, but she’d trusted him—trusted that he’d never make her feel that way. In the end, it didn’t matter how many people turned their noses up at her or made her feel foolish in a fancy dress. As long as he was standing by her side, she wouldn’t have cared at all.

  She squeezed her eyes shut against the burn of fresh tears. The numbness was fading, and what had happened was beginning to truly set in.

  They’d been in the car for about thirty minutes, only halfway to the airport, and she hadn’t even begun to deal with everything that had happened to her in the last twenty-four hours.

  And she knew Lucian hadn’t either.

  Those damn tears snuck free, tracking down her cheeks. How was she going to go on after this, like none of this happened? How was Lucian supposed to go on?

  A tremble coursed throughout her. She was leaving. She was doing what Lucian had asked, but leaving felt . . . it felt wrong. Not because it hurt and that kind of hurting was only just beginning, but because it felt like she . . . she’d given up.

  That even though he had ordered her to leave, it was her giving up on him—her giving him control by giving in.

  Had she’d done the right thing?

  “Ms. Hughes, may I say something?”

  The sound of Richard’s voice jolted her out of her thoughts. She dragged her gaze away from the window and looked up front. He hadn’t spoken this entire time. If he had, she hadn’t heard him.

  She cleared her throat. “Sure.”

  “I don’t know if Lucian ever told you this, but when he was little, he was the scapegoat.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “For his brothers and his sister—especially his sister. He would get between Lawrence and Madeline. He’d fight for her.”

  Wiping the tears off her face, she let out a shaky breath. “He . . .” She trailed off as she shook her head. “He mentioned something like that.”

  “Did he tell you that his brothers fought for him? That wouldn’t be a lie. They did for the most part, but not . . . not like he would for them. You don’t know how far he’s gone for his family. Even if you think you do, you don’t.”

  Julia lowered her hands to her lap, her fingers curling into her palms. She knew some of what he’d done for his brothers, some of it frightening beyond belief, but she’d accepted the things that he’d done out of loyalty and a fierce protectiveness she knew she would’ve shown for her own family. Was there more?

  With Lucian—with the de Vincent brothers—there was always more.

  This wasn’t right.

  Something . . . something powerful and sure was building inside her. Her hands opened and closed restlessly.

  Richard’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror once more. “He’s never had anyone fight for him the way he has fought for others.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath.

  “I have to ask. Are you going to fight for him, Julia?”

  Lucian stood in front of the closed door. Never in his life had he entered the room. Not when he was a child. Not as an adult. But now he stood in front of his father’s bedroom, the room his mother never even slept in.

  He didn’t know why he came here, but he’d left Julia’s room and somehow this was where he found himself. Lucian reached for the knob. Unlocked, it slipped open and cold air rushed out as he stepped inside.

  The room was sparse, and that had nothing to do with his death. No one had started to pack his shit up yet. It was just that his father, his actual God damn father, didn’t see the need for frivolous, inconsequential things. The man himself had been spare down to the very bone, with his attention and love.

  Lucian stood before the bed—the only bed in the house that didn’t feature Gabe’s design. The bed was made, pillows flat at the top. To the right was a dresser. There was a TV mounted to the wall. And a chair. That was it.

  Fucking empty of life.

  Just like his father.

  Maybe if Lawrence had been a better father, Maddie would’ve . . . she wouldn’t have turned out the way she had. Maybe if their dad had actually acted like he gave a shit about them, she wouldn’t have ended the way she did.

  He was dying inside.

  He’d lost his sister. He’d lost Julia.

  Red-hot rage bled out of every pore. He wasn’t thinking as he stepped forward and gripped the edges of the blanket. Tearing the blanket and sheets free, he ripped them from the bed, throwing them to the floor.

  Spinning around, he stalked over to the TV. He grabbed hold of the screen and pulled. Muscles along his arm and back flexed and tightened as the mount caught on bolts. Fury was a powerful drug. Drywall plumed into the air as the mount gave way, ripping the bolts straight out.

  Lucian threw the TV to the floor, molars grinding down as the screen cracked, then shattered.

  The chair went next, into the wall beside it. The hole that broke through did nothing—absolutely nothing to stop the rage. He stalked over to the dresser.

  Grabbing a wooden box, he flung it off the dresser. Rings flew across the room, skating off the floor. Cigars rolled. A watch fell against the stripped bed. Not the one his father always wore. A different one Lucian’s mother had given him for Christmas one year. His bastard of a father never wore it, though. The fucking tag was still on it, over a decade later.

  He turned back to the dresser, to the neat stack of books and the bottles of cologne. Swiping his arm across the top, he swept off the books and bottles. The crashing and breaking of glass did nothing to temper his rage.

  The overpowering scent of pine filled the room as he grabbed the dresser and toppled it over. Dressers fell out, smashing against the floor. He stepped back, body trembling and breathing heavy. He wanted to tear the room down to the studs, eradicate every piece of his father.

  “Lucian.”

  Every muscle in his body locked up as he closed his eyes. Shit. Now he was hearing Julia’s voice. Had he lost his damn mind? Would make sense, all things considered.

  “Lucian.” Julia’s voice came again. “Please.”

  A series of goose bumps rose over his damn skin. His hands opened and closed at his sides and then slowly, he turned around.

  Julia stood in front of the doorway, her hair falling in loose waves around her pale, stricken face. It was really her. She was flesh and blood.

  His chest rose and fell deeply. She shouldn’t be here. God, she should be far away from him. Hadn’t he told her to leave?

  Her throat worked on a visible swallow as she stepped forward, stopping when he tensed. “What are you doing?”

  “Redecorating,” he rasped out. “Like my design?”

  Julia winced as those gorgeous warm eyes glistened. “Oh Lucian.”

  “Don’t.” He held up a hand. “I told you to leave. Why are you here?”

  He expected her to flinch, for that beautiful face to pale even further, but that’s not what happened. That slightly pointy chin of hers lifted and her shoulders squared like they’d done a hundred times before, usually minutes before she put him in his place.

  “I’m here,” she said. “I’m here, because I love you.”

  It was Lucian who flinched. He stumbled back a step. “Don’t—”

  “No.” Her voice was like a crack of thunder in the middle of a summer storm. “You’re going to shut up and you’re going to listen to me.”

  Lucian blinked. Surprise rendered him quiet.

  “I cannot even imagine what you’re going through and wha
t you’re feeling. The last twenty-four hours have completely changed your life—changed everything you knew, but they haven’t changed who you are.”

  A harsh laugh burst from him. “I know exactly who I am.”

  “I don’t think you do.” She took another step forward. “I don’t think you know at all.”

  Jaw working, he looked away. “You only know the half of what I’ve done—”

  “I know enough to know that you’re the man I love.” She cut him off with words that were like a knife to the chest. “I know that you’re fiercely loyal and protective. I know that you’re amazingly talented and generous. I know that you’re smart and you’re funny. I know that I can’t even stay mad at you even when you’re annoying the hell out of me. I know—”

  “You know that I’m bad for you?” His voice hoarse.

  She shook her head. “You’re not.”

  “Baby, you don’t understand. This fucking house, this fucking family is going to ruin you just like it rots everyone.”

  “That’s not true. I know it’s not,” she insisted. “Because it didn’t ruin you. It didn’t rot you.”

  God, those words ripped his chest right open, because he wanted to believe them so badly. He wanted them to be true.

  Julia stopped a few feet from him, standing beside the pile of sheets and blankets. “You can get mad at me. You can tell me to leave, but I’m not going to.”

  His breath—his actual breath—fucking caught in his throat.

  Her hands balled into tiny fists. “I accept what you are—I know you’re fucked up. I know your entire family is messed up, and I accept all those broken pieces. I can handle your real. I can handle you.”

  He stilled. Fuck. He wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. Those words broke through the haze of anger and pain.

  “I love you,” she continued, holding his gaze. “And because I love you, I’m not going to give up on you—on us. I’m going to fight for you. So get used to it. I’m yours. You’re mine.”