Redemption Hills: The Complete Collection

7. Aster

SEVEN

ASTER

“My rules, Aster.”

My chest was tight as the powerful engine roared down Main Street as what I’d agreed to ran through my mind on a circuit.

“My rules.”

Every cell on my body was edged in agitation.

What had I done?

What had I agreed to?

Could I really pull this off?

And at what cost?

Because if I couldn’t convince my father...

It was an endless cycle of dread and hope.

Dread and hope.

I glanced at the ferocity that vibrated Logan’s profile.

Hope.

It was such a reckless, heedless emotion. One I’d long since given up fighting for, succumbing to the reality of what my life would be.

But there it was, blooming like a poppy.

Quickly.

Rising up through rocky soil to become something beautiful.

The thought itself was something I should fear. It wasn’t like Logan was sweeping in to rescue me, not that I wanted a hero. But I guessed I’d always wanted a partner.

A friend.

A lover.

A home.

And that’s exactly where we were headed—Logan’s home, when it could never be home at all.

Knowing he hated me, and I hated what he’d done, the choice he’d forced me to make. I hated that every plan and promise we’d made to each other had been squashed.

I needed to remember nothing remained but tragedy and debris.

My desire for freedom and Logan’s thirst for revenge.

I peeked his way again, unable to stop myself. At the strength in his jaw. At the sharpness of his nose and the shrewdness of his eyes.

My fingers itched with the urge to reach out and trace the shape.

To restore.

To remember.

To renew.

If he was beautiful then, he was devastating now.

Every line of him was hard and severe. Wide shoulders and defined chest that led to a trim waist. Tall and almost thin, though from the feel of him earlier, I knew the muscle hidden beneath his clothes was rigid and packed.

Rippling with strength and intimidation.

The fitted suit he wore over his chiseled form only amplified that truth.

He glanced at me.

Energy cracked in the dense air.

Those green eyes sharpened with a threat. “You’re doing it again.”

My brow furled in question.

He released a cruel chuckle that skated over my skin, a harsh, seductive caress. “Looking at me like you have the right to know.”

“And you act like I’m not going to wonder.”

Pushing out a sigh, he let the words fall as if they were trivial. “It was a long time ago.”

“Yet it feels like yesterday.”

Only an eternity had been woven in between.

He shrugged a nonchalant shoulder that weighed a million pounds. “Yesterday…a lifetime ago…it doesn’t matter, does it, Aster? Not when it can’t be undone.”

“But you haven’t forgotten.” I didn’t know if it was a question or a plea.

He came to a quick stop at a red light, and he whirled on me. A gasp rocked from my lungs when his hand curled into my upper thigh. The flesh burned hot when he dug his fingers in and squeezed. “Do not toy with me, Aster.”

My mouth went dry, and I gulped on the scorching air. On his anger. On his hurt. “I’m not.”

His hand moved to my face, his thumb on my jaw, far too gentle for the darkness that reigned in his eyes. “Such a sweet little liar.”

The light turned green, and he skewered me with that gaze for the barest flash that felt like he could see through to the marrow. Penetrate and cut me down to nothing.

Then he turned and accelerated through the intersection, that powerful body slung back so confidently, but there wasn’t anything casual about it.

Fierceness radiated from his pores, spilling free like brutality.

Suffocating.

Compelling.

I didn’t know if I felt hollow, wrecked and ravaged and laid to waste by that single glance, or if for the first time in seven years, there was a part of me that felt alive.

That blooming of what I shouldn’t allow to take root.

I forced my attention out the window. I had to be careful. Guard myself, or I wasn’t going to come out of this better on the other side.

This was my chance. I had to use it right. I couldn’t allow myself to be crushed any more than I already had been.

I’d been caged for so long. Held in chains of torment and pain.

If I was going to stretch my wings, then I was going to fly.

We crawled along the busy stretch. The silence that rained between us was heavier than stones.

The street was filled with tourists, the snow on the ground and coating the rooftops a draw for those who had flocked here for a winter escape.

We traveled only a short distance before Logan made a quick left into the side drive of a large building that sat close to the street.

It was seven or eight stories, I would guess, modern, yet it still exuded a warm, cabin-esque vibe. Dark woods and even darker panes of glass that glinted against the frosty rays of sunlight that blazed from the clear, blue sky.

The first floor housed a steakhouse and a couple boutique shops, and I could only assume there were apartments on the floors above.

We followed along the drive lined by snow-covered shrubs before Logan pushed a button on his visor and a gate opened for us to enter a parking garage in the basement. He whipped down the short slope. The sun faded behind us, dimming the atmosphere to a hazy glow of yellowed lights that illuminated the dank space.

In an instant, it felt as if the walls had closed in.

As if I had been sentenced and was being led into punishment.

But that’s what this was, wasn’t it?

Punishment?

Because there were few things that hurt as badly as looking at the man I loved with all of me and never being able to admit it. Few things that hurt as badly as the loss that had eclipsed my heart in vacant shadows.

My heart throbbed.

I thought maybe he was being punished, too.

He pulled into a spot reserved for L7E, put it into park, and killed the engine. For a second, I stared ahead, fidgeting because I wasn’t sure where to go from there. I hadn’t planned beyond this, but I refused to believe it was a mistake.

“That’s your cue to get out.” Logan’s voice was hard.

Fumbling, I rushed to unlatch the door and stepped out into the frigid cold. Goosebumps crawled up my legs and burrowed beneath the dress. Thank God for the jacket, but it did little to shield from the cold that seeped all the way to the bone.

Logan was already there by the time I shut the door. He reached out and grabbed both sides of my coat, drawing the lapels up close to my chin.

My eyes widened in shock, and my stupid, frozen heart thawed at the gesture. At the energy that whispered and called.

A swift, unspoken claim.

“We need to get you inside and get you warm.”

My eyes flicked all over his face, searching for an answer.

The man heard the silent question for what it was.

“I take care of what’s mine.” He repeated what he’d said last night, the words a seductive threat that would ruin me if I let them.

The man was luring me into a gulf of contradiction.

No right, and no wrong.

No up, and no down.

I was subject to this division that would cut me in two.

He set his palm on the small of my back. “This way.”

The murmur was a crack of incongruity.

Whiplash.

My head spun with the push and pull as he guided me toward the elevator and punched in a code. The doors swept open, and a bluster of heat radiated out.

A sigh got free as I stepped inside, and I stuffed my hands into the coat pockets. I made to move away, to put as much space between us in the confined space as possible.

God knew we were already too close, balancing on a quickly fraying rope that would hang us both.

But no, Logan looped his arm around my waist and drew me closer.

It swamped me in his aura.

Clove and cinnamon and corruption.

My throat tightened and my stomach flipped, and I wondered if I’d willingly set myself a trap. If it really were a mistake after all because I was pretty sure the only thing I was doing was providing him with the ammunition to destroy.

Placing myself in Logan’s massive, manipulative hands.

I had been there before, hadn’t I?

He punched in another code, and the elevator lifted us upward. It came to a stop on the top floor.

The doors whooshed open to an elegant foyer. There was one double door to the left and another set to the right.

He nudged me toward the left, his voice a controlled rumble. “This way.”

I gulped for clarity. For surety. Praying this was right.

I hoped I hadn’t just traded one horrible situation for another.

But I’d already made this bed. Had given this man my word.

I wouldn’t go back on it.

So I sucked it up and followed along beside him. He slipped a key into the lock and swung open the door to his apartment.

“This is it.”

I came to a standstill just inside.

Logan released me, clicked the door shut behind us, and strolled deeper into his home.

So callously.

So arrogantly.

Energy buzzed.

A hum in the air.

He peeled himself from his suit jacket and tossed it to the back of a chair. He eyed me the entire time, watching me as if I were a new piece of the décor.

I tore myself from the trap of his gaze and busied myself with taking in what he had become.

I was used to pretentious things. To riches and wealth. They’d always meant little to me, and they were supposed to mean even less to us, but I guessed I should have recognized his weakness all along.

It was in his blood.

Inevitable.

And nothing else mattered but his rise to the top.

Not even me.

Here, the proof of that greed was exuded in this pretension that was purely masculine. Everything was both rugged and sleek.

Rough and dark.

As if a high-rise loft in New York had been juxtaposed with the presidential suite at a ski resort.

To the left was a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the quaint city that rambled on below and the mountain peaks in the distance. To the right was a massive fireplace that roared of overpowering warmth, the lapping of flames heating the smooth, black-stone floors.

The living room was filled with oversized suede furniture with a plush rug in the middle. It was fitted with comfy blankets and pillows intermixed with abstract statues and artwork.

The kitchen ran the opposite wall from the entry. Everything was chunky wood, frosted glass, and thick cuts of stone. A large island separated the two spaces, and six short stools sat facing the kitchen area. There was a small nook with a round table set that overlooked the forest at the back.

There was a hall that ran the wall on the right and another set of double doors that sat on the far left on the other side of the kitchen.

“Welcome home, Aster.” He cracked a grin. It wasn’t nice.

It was strange, looking at him then, at this cruel, harsh, bitter man up against who I’d witnessed earlier. The easy playfulness with which he’d interacted with his nephew.

I wondered which side of him was real.

Or maybe they both were, and I just brought out the worst in him.

“So, what now?” I threaded my fingers together.

His expression shifted to something unreadable. “That’s up to you, isn’t it? You’re the one who came to me. It’s on you to figure out what you want. What you’re willing to fight for. If you’re brave enough to see it through.”

His head cocked at that. His words seemed both an encouragement and a challenge.

A question.

As if he were daring me to prove there was anything left of who I used to be.

I wanted to demand the same.

Beg him to show me.

To answer…why.

Why did he have to do it? He’d promised me. Promised. And here we were, seven years later, shells of who we’d hoped to be.

“It might end badly.”

He moved for me.

Dark energy vibrated out ahead of him, wrapping me in a greedy warmth I shouldn’t take comfort in. He touched my chin. The gentlest caress. The deepest wound. “It already did.”

For a moment, he gazed at me as if I were the light before he stepped away, breaking the connection.

The distance amplified the emptiness that would forever live on in me.

“This way,” he grunted as if he were suddenly ambushed in annoyance.

His shoes echoed on the floors as his lithe body moved. He headed for the hall on the right. There were three doors that ran along the left side.

He opened the first. “This will be you.”

Warily, I peeked through the doorway into the guest bedroom. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected when he’d brought me here. If he’d hide me away in some high tower or make me sleep like a dog on the floor.

Or maybe…maybe chain me to his bed.

I shoved that morbidly appealing thought out as quickly as it’d come, my teeth clamping down on my bottom lip as I eased around him and into the room.

Severity blistered from his body, shocking through me when I barely brushed his arm as I passed.

“Make yourself at home.” It sounded like a lie.

I swiveled back to face him, the man so gorgeous where he held the knob and looked at me like I was poison from the doorway.

“You’re going to make me regret this, aren’t you?”

“It seems fair since I’ll be regretting you for the rest of my life.”

Hurt pierced me through, and I sucked in a shattered breath.

A stake of regret moved through his devil smile.

“Logan—”

He blinked long. The stark pain in his expression was enough to cut me off. When he opened back up, his features had turned stoic.

“I have some things I need to take care of. Do try and not get into any trouble while I’m gone?”

The last tweaked with something that sounded close to a tease.

It pinched my heart in old memories that spun.

His carefree smile. The soft mischief in his eyes as he’d look down at me beneath the comfort of the night.

“You are nothing but trouble, aren’t you, Aster Rose?”

A giggle got free, my chest so tight with love I thought I would burst. “Am I worth it?”

Adoration filled his gaze. “You’re worth everything. Anything.”

I wondered if he saw it play out in my mind because his jaw clenched before he shut the door without saying anything else.

I blew out the strain toward the high ceiling before I turned to study the room.

The bedroom was decorated the same as the main area, all dark woods and heavy linens and masculine lines. There was a big window with a reading nook on the far side, overlooking the forest in the back, pines covered in snow that reached for the icy sky.

It was beautiful.

A clash of comfort that beat against the frigid cold.

It reminded me of the man.

Ice and fire.

Comfort and torment.

Everything I shouldn’t want and everything I wished I still had.

Warily, I picked up my clutch and forced myself to dig out my phone that I’d set to silent before I’d gone in search of Logan.

My nerves rattled so intensely I couldn’t keep my hands from trembling.

Spindly pricks of dread scraped my flesh and panged my chest in a clench of fear.

There was no question my actions were reckless.

Being here was in direct defiance of the promise I had made. A promise that had nearly killed me, but one I had no other choice but to make.

Barely keeping it together, I looked at the screen.

Seventeen missed calls.

Air wheezed from my lungs, and I did my best to steel myself, to find that internal fortitude, tapping into where my spirit shouted for freedom.

It was a conversation that couldn’t be avoided.

One that everything relied upon.

His blessing or his curse.

I guessed that had been the entire story of my life.

Resolved, I turned it off silent. Immediately, it began ringing again, as if it’d never stopped.

I accepted the call.

“Hi, Papa,” I whispered as I put the phone to my ear, knowing I’d likely incited a shitstorm with my text earlier this morning.

“Aster…where are you?” Fear burned through his hardened voice. “I’ve tried to call you a hundred times.”

“I’m safe.”

Silence pulsed for a short beat before I heard him swallow. “Tell me what is going on? I tried to call Jarek this morning to no avail, and now my daughter is missing.”

“I’m not missing, Papa. I am right here.”

“And where exactly is that?” His voice deepened with the question.

I paced, my heels snagging on the high pile of the thick carpet. My head dipped low as if my father could feel the weight of my plea. My heart clanged in fits of desperation when I let go of the words. “Papa, I need you to listen to me.”

More silence.

This time baited. Harsher than it’d been.

“Who do I need to kill?” he finally offered.

I would have laughed if it hadn’t been a horrible, terrible reality.

A reality that had destroyed the last seven years.

Could it be changed? Could it? I prayed and prayed that my father could be swayed.

“No one, Papa. No one, please.” I hated it. Hated this ruthless world. Hated that I still loved my father despite his barbarous ways.

“I need you to spare someone.” That, I begged, my pulse chugging as I croaked the anguished request. A request that would likely send him over the edge.

“Who?”

Gulping, I forced it out. “Logan Lawson.”

I heard his teeth snap.

The old disgust.

The violence that coated his carefully constructed response. “You promised, Aster Rose. You gave me the Oath of Life.”

“I know, Papa, I know, but I…”

Tears sprang free, and a sob ripped up my throat before I could contain it.

“Tell me where you are, and I will come for you.” Panic whipped from him.

“I’m safe, I’m safe. But I need you to do something for me. Allow one request.”

“And what is it I’m allowing you? For Logan Lawson to live when you went against the one thing required of you?” Rage thinned his words.

One thing.

My life.

Every last piece of me.

My pulse wavered and shook. “Yes. Yes, Papa. And I need you to allow me to stay here. Just for a little while.”

Until I figured out how to prove to my father that Jarek wasn’t loyal. That he was no good. That he would hurt the family in the end.

And if I could prove it?

Maybe…just maybe my father would see me as my own person. See me as someone who could stand for herself. See I didn’t need him to pick a husband for me.

I was his daughter . Not his possession.

“You know I cannot do that, mia vita. This is where you belong, and the last place I would allow you to stay is with that boy.”

That boy.

“I have never belonged with Jarek.” The blasphemy was out on a whoosh of air that I should have dammed. But I couldn’t stop it, the flashflood of hatred and hurt.

“He is your husband.” My father sounded offended in his defense.

“And why is that?” Hurt shot through the words. I gasped in a shocked breath.

How could I say it? Release it? Not when it meant breaking the promise I’d made that day.

When I’d given Logan a chance at life at the cost of my own.

Tears kept falling, racing in a torrent of grief. I looked to the ceiling and tried to suppress the sorrow that surged from the secret places. To hold it back.

I had to be strong. I had to convince him there was a reason I was doing this.

But I had to be smart about it. “I need a break, Papa.”

A permanent one, but I couldn’t tell him that.

“I need to breathe. I need to heal. I’ve never had that chance.”

“Aster Rose…your responsibilities are here.” I heard the undercurrent of it.

I was a treaty.

A covenant.

A bond.

“You call me your life, yet you treat me like a possession, Papa. Like I’m merchandise to be bartered with. What about what I need?”

“You agreed.” It was a warning.

“I know, but things have changed, and if you love me?—”

“You know that I do.” He said it with such force it shook the walls.

“Then give me this time.”

“He is the very reason, Aster. Do you not remember the disgrace he brought this family? He killed my brother. He betrayed me. He stole my greatest treasure. And he touched you.”

Yes, he’d touched me. In the most beautiful of ways.

“And now you dare ask me to leave you in his care?” He hissed it, venom in his disbelief.

“Yes.”

For good or for bad.

Yes.

“I need closure, Papa. Do you not understand the pain I’ve endured? Please. Give me this time. And I’ll…I’ll find out what happened to the twin stones.” The faulty promise was out before I could stop it.

The twin stones that had been at the heart of it all.

An albatross.

A heavy sigh left him. A moment of silence followed. A chasm of dread.

“I do not trust this. Not any of it,” he finally mumbled, though some of the anger had drained.

I nearly dropped to my knees.

“I’m not asking you to trust him. I’m asking you to trust me,” I rushed.

“Aster…you do not know what you’re asking of me.” His tone was underscored with his own contrition. His own obligations.

“I do.”

“Jarek will be more than displeased.”

“He wagered me in a game last night, Papa. He lost. He should at least suffer for that.”

“Disgraziato,” he spat.

It was my only chance. The mistake that Jarek had made and the idea that I might be able to uncover what had happened to the stones.

Except that idea was moot.

Logan had sold them.

Had told me himself.

God, I was playing a fool’s game.

But I had to try.

“Please, Papa, give me this chance. One month. Until the new year. I’ll find out where the stones are in that time. I promise.”

Hesitation poured through the line, and I whispered, “Please, Papa.”

I could feel the sag of his shoulders. The giving in. “One month, mia vita. One month is all I can give.”

“And Logan will be protected? His family?”

He sighed. “You ask more of me than I should grant, but I give it because I do love you. Jarek will be ordered to stand down.”

“And what will you do about Jarek?”

“I will speak with him.”

“Papa, I fear he needs more than speaking to.”

And I feared more I’d just told my father the greatest lie. I wasn’t asking for one month.

I was asking for my life.

Slipping off my heels, I wiggled my toes into the plush carpet and exhaled a long breath of the fear I’d been holding.

I couldn’t believe my father had agreed.

Couldn’t believe it.

More tears fell.

These ones were of relief. For once, I felt like some of the chains I’d carried had been lifted.

I allowed myself to relish in it.

Freedom.

For the first time in my life, I was standing up for what I wanted.

Fighting for myself.

I didn’t think I’d ever felt a more overwhelming relief than knowing I could breathe.

That I could sleep.

Logan and his family were safe, and Jarek wasn’t there to control me.

To watch me.

To touch me.

Revulsion curdled in my stomach, the same sickness I’d lived in for years.

The vile man had demolished me in a single strike, yet day after day, desolation had built upon that tragedy.

They say time heals wounds, but every time I looked at Jarek, it felt like I was being ripped open anew.

At the nightstand on the right side of the bed, I plugged in my phone, then I moved to the dresser opposite the bed that had a large television sitting on top of it, and I pulled open the top left drawer.

Photo albums.

My heart palpitated in my chest. Part of me wanted to pry. To dig deeper into the ambiguous, confusing man that Logan Lawson had become.

The other part of me knew I couldn’t stomach it.

It still stung too badly. Prying would only be asking for more pain.

Staying here, in his space? It was going to hurt enough.

I shoved it closed and opened the middle drawer.

Inside was a stash of journals, stationary paper, and pens. But next to them was a clear bin filled with the little paper stars.

Memories of us.

Why had he kept them?

God, this was brutal.

I slammed it closed before I looked too closely at his intentions.

I opened the drawer on the right. A soft smile tugged at my mouth when I found it was stuffed with toys. My mind traveled to the face of the little boy.

Gage.

To the adoration that had shown in Logan’s eyes. The sweetness. The care. The mischief.

All the things I remembered.

And I wondered—wondered if pieces of that man existed.

My reckless, beautiful boy.

Heaving out a sigh, I moved to the row of lower drawers and opened the first.

Old tees.

Success.

I didn’t know how much longer I could stay in this dress.

I grabbed the first black tee and held up the massive thing that would swallow me whole. The print on the front softened the blow of all the words he’d cast at me since he’d crashed back into my life.

It was from Star Wars. His old obsession.

It had Yoda on the front, and it said, Yoda best uncle.

Affection left me on a soft laugh.

I could only picture that little boy giving it to him. Could only picture Logan peeling off his fitted suit to put it on.

I pressed it to my face like it held the pieces of this mystery of a man.

Like the fibers might be woven in his complexity.

The dark and the light.

The wicked and the kind.

I just hoped they both existed when it came to me.

I moved into the bathroom and slid out of the dress and let it drop to a heap on the floor.

Tingles spread.

Comfort taking hold.

I washed my face, then found an extra toothbrush in the cupboard so I could brush my teeth.

By the time I pulled the shirt over my head and looked at my mussed reflection in the mirror, I felt like a new woman.

A free woman.

And to my reflection, I made a brand-new promise.

I will never go back.

Half an hour later, I eased out the bedroom door and down the hall. My footsteps were quieted, filled with the instinct to remain concealed when I was the only one there. Silence hovered thick, like when Logan had gone, he’d left the weight of his presence there, ominous and tranquil.

As if you could be lured into the comfort of it all when you were stumbling into a trap.

I padded barefoot through the living room. The smooth floor was surprisingly warm as the fireplace continued to cast its luxury across the rambling space.

I walked into the posh kitchen and searched for a glass in the cupboards above the countertop. I found one and moved to the sink where I filled it with tap water and brought it to my lips.

The main door suddenly burst open behind me. Surprise had me whirling around and the glass slipped from my hold as I went.

It shattered on the floor.

Shards scattered while my arms drew up in front of me like I could protect myself from any attack.

Which just so happened to be an attack by a woman who had to be in her late sixties. She skidded to a stop just inside the apartment looking just as shocked as I felt.

Humiliation crept to my cheeks at my overreaction.

But it was basic instinct. The fear that Jarek would come for me.

I frantically tried to regain my composure. “I’m so sorry, you scared me.”

The woman’s smile was sly. She was stocky and short, though clearly her strength hadn’t lessened with age as she carried the bags inside.

“Don’t you worry your pretty face about it. My husband used to tell me I garnered quite the reaction when I came into a room. I was a looker, too, you know, when I was your age. The man always did have to be right.”

Her smile widened. “You stay right there, now, and I’ll come rescue you. I heard we were going to have a pop of company for the next little bit, so I figured I’d better get to the market and get the refrigerator stocked.”

“That’s very nice of you,” I mumbled.

She waddled the rest of the way in and piled the bags on the island. “Gretchen is my name, cooking is my game. Well, and cleaning and shopping and keeping that boy out of the messes he makes. He might look put together, but that’s all me.”

She tsked like Logan was nothing but an unruly little boy.

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm…he’s lucky he has me, that one.” She eyed me up and down.

I tried not to flush, considering I was standing there in nothing but that tee that hit me mid-thigh.

“Looks like he’s lucky to have you, too.” She winked at that before she moved to a hidden pantry at the right end of the kitchen and came out with a broom and dustpan.

“I’m thinking lucky is not the way he would describe it.”

She chuckled low. “That boy wouldn’t know what’s good for him if it knocked him upside the head, which I have half a mind to do most of the time.”

“I guess he’s not the only one you have to pick up messes after around here. If you can just hand me the broom, I can do it.”

“Nonsense. What’s your name, sweetheart? I think you and I are gonna be friends.”

“Aster.”

She froze at that, a wash of curiosity coming from her as she stopped to peer closer at my face.

A bout of nerves had me shifting on my feet, and I dropped my chin in a rush of insecurity.

Why was she looking at me like that?

“What the hell is going on in here?”

I jumped again when a deep voice hit the air, and I landed just to the left. A piece of broken glass pierced me on the bottom of my right heel.

A shriek tore from my mouth. Forcing myself not to move, I squeezed my eyes closed and gripped the counter behind me as if it could ground me.

I hated that Jarek wasn’t here, and he still had me on edge.

The problem was, I knew firsthand the types of atrocities he inflicted, and as much as I wanted to cling to my father’s promise, I would never forget the nineteen-year-old girl who’d lain bloody and weeping at his feet.

When I felt the movement, my lids peeled open, Logan a tether that widened my sight as he strode deeper into the apartment, dropping the bags he held on his way.

“Are you injured?” he grated through clenched teeth as he rounded the island. Some kind of venomous worry twisted his expression into hardened anxiety.

“I’m fine,” I forced out. That gaze dragged over me like hot stones, narrowing on the shirt I wore before it went traipsing the rest of the way down my legs.

“You don’t look so fine to me. I thought I told you not to get into any trouble while I was away?” There was the tweak of that tease at the end of his words.

Exasperation huffed from my chest. “I didn’t realize water counted.”

Gretchen tsked and waved the broom at him. “Are you just going to stand there staring? Where are your manners, young man?”

He pasted on the brightest smile I’d ever seen. All teeth. “What manners are you speaking of?”

She grunted at him in playful disappointment. “The ones your momma would have wanted you to have.”

“Well, excuse me,” he mumbled.

“Don’t give me that excuse me bit until you get over there and help this poor little thing who is bleeding to death in your kitchen.”

She waved an exaggerated hand my direction.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Bleeding to death? Hardly.”

Still, he took a step my way and murmured, “Don’t move.”

It stole air. Stole reason.

I pressed myself deeper into the counter like it might protect me from the power of it.

Gretchen clucked her tongue as she started sweeping up my mess. “My, my, some gentleman you are.”

Low laughter tumbled from his chest, and he didn’t even glance at her when the words filled the air, his gaze locked on me. “Gentleman? I thought you knew me better than that?”

She pushed by, whisking the broom over the broken fragments on the floor. “I do…which makes me wonder why this beautiful, nice girl would bother herself with the likes of you.”

“Nice?” He said it like insinuating it was obscene. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Dark amusement played through his features, and his gaze was taking me in again, slower this time, so painfully intense I felt it like an undulating wave.

He edged forward. “Hmm…we wouldn’t want a beautiful girl to bleed to death in my kitchen, now, would we? It might make me look bad.”

I was in his arms faster than I could prepare for it. Shock raked up my throat when he tightened his hold around me, the smell of him overwhelming as he pulled me against his hard, packed chest.

Clove and cinnamon and corruption.

“Logan, put me down.”

“No.” He turned and started in the direction of the double doors to the left of the kitchen.

“You take good care of her…if you don’t, I’ll be using this broom here for different purposes. Don’t think just because I’m old I’m not creative.” Gretchen shouted her threat from behind us.

“It’s becoming clearer each day that my housekeeper is a psychopath,” he grumbled below his breath.

Logan carried me into the wispy dimness of his room. The blinds were pulled, and the light from the main room whispered in behind us.

My eyes tracked the space.

There was a monstrous bed on the far left, and a TV nearly the size of the wall hung on the opposite side.

A fireplace was in the corner next to a sitting area with two chairs and a couch facing each other under the window.

It was cozy but somehow…hollow. As if a vacancy echoed back.

He headed into the bathroom and flicked on the light.

I blinked against the intrusiveness then squeaked when he plunked me down onto the counter.

“You’ve been here for less than three hours, and you’re already making trouble.”

“I think we’re in plenty of trouble, Logan,” I whispered.

I let a little of our truth seep in.

On a grunt, he rummaged through a cabinet next to the sink. He returned with tweezers, a cotton ball, antibiotic cream, and a bandage. He eyed me as he set everything on the counter. “I always told you that you were worth it.”

My heart fluttered.

The man so different.

So much the same.

I pushed out some of the strain, trying not to look at him, but unable to tear my attention away.

Unable to resist the energy that crackled in the atmosphere.

An old connection that searched for its union.

I had to be careful. So careful. But still I was whispering, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For doing this for me.”

A scowl scrunched his brow. “Who said I was doing it for you?”

My throat was tight. “Whatever the reason…thank you.”

He didn’t respond, he only hooked me with those eyes as he slowly knelt.

I heaved a sharp breath when he grabbed onto me by both knees. Fire raced my veins, that connection finding a place to take root.

“You cut yourself.” It was a soft accusation.

A frown pulled tight, and the words whimpered free, barely audible with him touching me the way he was. “It really wasn’t that big of a deal.”

He eased back on his haunches, and his left hand glided down the back of my calf to draw my leg out so he could inspect the bottom of my foot.

He dragged his finger down my heel. “It is a big deal. I already told you I take good care of what’s mine.”

My stomach bottomed out, and I tried to ignore what he insinuated. The way it felt for this man to touch me. The way I ached.

He inclined his head low enough that it concealed his face, but I could feel the intensity that blazed from his being, the way I used to feel him. A lifetime ago when life had belonged to us.

He twisted my foot then used the tweezers to pull the glass from the cut. I hissed at the sting, then I couldn’t breathe at all when he leaned in and blew over the flesh.

His breath was heated, and it swarmed me as if he were a scorching, summer wind.

A torrid, unrelenting flame.

I curled my hands tight around the edge of the counter to stop from doing something absurdly stupid like running my fingers through his hair.

My love for him throbbed with agony.

“Does it hurt?” he asked as he dabbed the cut with a cotton swab.

“It always has.” The confession wheezed past my dried lips.

I could feel him swallow. The way his shoulders went rigid.

He angled his gaze up to take in my face, his words as broken as the shards of glass. “Who is it you belong to, Aster?”

It was the same thing he’d asked me last night, only this time, he wanted a different answer.

I knew it. Felt the possession in the way his big hand curled around my ankle.

“You.” It trembled from my mouth.

At least for a little while, I did.

Because he’d chosen to do this for me. I just hoped whatever reason he’d done it for didn’t destroy me in the end.

“Good girl.” I could barely hear what he’d said, though I felt the caress of it skate up the inside of my thighs.

Need boiled in my belly, pouring out to touch every nerve ending as he cleaned the small amount of blood from the cut and applied a bandage.

“There,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” I said again, pushing it around the lump that had taken my throat hostage.

Everything was thickened.

The air and his words and the severity of his gaze.

Then he pressed his face to the inside of my calf.

I gasped.

“Do you want me to ruin him, Aster? Is that what you want me to do?”

Anxiety clouded the desire. My heart thudded at a furious, wicked beat. “I just want to be free.”

Hatred clawed through his expression. Only part of it was directed at me.

Logan suddenly pushed to his feet.

Menacing.

Beautiful.

Terrifying.

He lifted his hand and touched the necklace I wore, as if the star had branded him, too.

“Do you love him?” His voice dropped low as he shifted his attention to the ring I hated that I wore around my finger.

“No.” I couldn’t stop it from bleeding with pain.

“So you did it for what?” His words became blades.

“You left me without a choice.”

He pressed his face to my neck. I nearly drowned. Fell. Dug my nails into his back.

I forced myself to hold tight to the counter before I let myself go.

“There’s always a choice, Aster.” He pulled back, hurt a whorl that eclipsed the light in his eyes. “There’s always a choice.”

“And you made the wrong one.” I shouldn’t have said it, shouldn’t have given it to him, but I was swept into his arms before I could think through the implications of what I’d done.

His nose was at my jaw. “Did I?”

I wondered if he didn’t know. If he didn’t understand. Or if the only thing that had really mattered in the end was the greed.

“I hate you. You’d do well not to forget it.” It sounded of pain. A rush of regret. Hurt that slayed.

My arms curled tighter around his neck. “I hate you, too.”

I guessed we were both good at telling each other lies.

Maybe it was the only way either of us would survive this captivity. The only way we’d make it through the torment of wanting something you could never truly have.

Because he could never know what his actions had caused. The dominos that had been set in motion. The promise I’d made the one thing keeping him alive.

He carried me into the main room.

Gretchen looked up from where she was dumping a dustpan of glass into the trash. “See, manners. It isn’t so hard, is it?”

He grunted at her. “Keep it up, Gigi, and your days here are numbered.”

She cracked up. “That’s cute, young man, considering this place would fall down around you if I weren’t here to keep it in order. Besides, I know how much you love me.”

He grunted again. “You really know how to bust a man’s balls, especially one who signs your paycheck.”

“Pssh. I’d do it for free since I love you right back.”

I felt the wobble of affection at the corner of his mouth, rising beneath the rage that simmered in the bare space.

I tried to ignore the way his body felt pressed against mine as he carried me through the main room and back into my bedroom. Tried to pretend my skin wasn’t shimmering with the vestiges of his touch when he sat me on the edge of the bed.

He started to turn and leave, though he paused when I called behind him, “You’re happy here?”

Logan glanced back. “My family has always made me that way.”

“I used to.”

He tapped the doorframe with his knuckles. “Yeah, but you stopped being her a long time ago.”

Grief cut through the middle of me, and I choked over the regret that wanted to get free when he walked out without saying anything else.

Fisting the comforter, I fought the moisture that burned at my eyes. I had to keep it together. Stay focused and stay the course.

This wasn’t about reconciling with Logan. There was nothing that could heal a wound that went that deep.

More than that, there was no way to undo what had already been done.

This was about my freedom. About recovering my life. About finding new direction.

I jolted when a minute later Logan strode back in. He carried the bags he’d dropped onto the floor and placed them next to me on the bed.

A frown pulled to my brow. “What’s this?”

“Do you plan to wear that dress forever? Or that tee? Not that I would mind all that much.” He cocked a grin at that.

Wings fluttered in my chest.

Crap.

I swallowed hard. “I guess not.”

“Then you’ll need more clothes.” He moved to the doorway then paused to look back at me. “What do you need on Jarek?”

Gulping, I forced myself to focus on the mission. “Everything. Anything. I just need to prove to my father the snake that he is.”

A difficult task when I’d been raised by a brood of vipers. Crimes expected. Cruelty required.

In the end, it would be Jarek’s loyalty that counted.

“That should be easy enough.”

“I’m afraid there won’t be anything easy about this.”

Jarek would kill anyone that threatened his position in the family. My father had no sons, and his brother was dead thanks to the man in front of me, which meant Jarek was next in line to take his place as the boss once he passed.

He would be none too keen when he found out my intention was to take that from him.

If I knew him well enough, he’d think at any time, I’d come crawling back, and I doubted he’d say much to my father, considering he was the one who’d made this dirty, messy bed.

I prayed that and my father’s promise would give me time.

“Are you okay with that?” I pressed.

Logan shrugged too casual a shoulder. “He took what was mine. It seems only fair I take it back.”

He started to duck out only to pause, hesitate, then stare back at me as if he wasn’t sure about what he was getting ready to say. “I have a family thing tonight. Be ready at six. Pick something a little more…practical?”

Confusion bound, but I nodded quickly.

Dipping his head, he stepped out and shut the door.

I dug into the bags.

Jeans and tees.

Sweaters and a coat.

Boots.

A few more dresses as beautiful as the one I’d worn last night.

Toiletries and makeup and undergarments.

I tossed the lid off a box to find a silk night slip.

It was white and covered in the soft innuendo of stars woven into the material.

My spirit clutched.

Like a fool, I pressed it to my nose and stared at the door where he’d just been.

Little Star. Little Star.

Damn him.

I had to be careful, or he was going to ruin me all over again.