Good.

“By then, the girl was dreaming about carving her face up, so it would match how ugly she felt inside. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.” Franny goes silent for a moment, lost to the memories playing out behind her pretty, dark eyes. “So instead, she acted ugly. Cruel. A venomous little thing. She was very good at it. And she became the ugliest beautiful girl in the whole wide world.”

Franny drinks her brandy.

“Until, one day, she met a boy. And he was silly and awkward and the kindest, sweetest man she’d ever known. The girl was sure she could never be with him—because once he knew how ugly she was inside, he would leave and she would fall apart. So she was heartless to him. Tried to chase him off every way she knew how. She even tried to seduce his friend, but nothing worked. The boy…waited. Not in a weak way, but with patience. How a parent lets a tantrumming child scream and cry and beat the ground, until the child is spent. And one night, that’s what happened. The girl wailed and kicked and sobbed…and told him everything. All the ugliness.”

“And he didn’t just love her anyway…he loved her even more. He told her it wasn’t her face that made him love her—he said he would love her even if he was blind, because it was the spark inside her that had captured him the moment they met. And she finally started to believe him. With him she felt safe…and good…and maybe just a little bit beautiful.”

I reach up and hug Franny tightly, stroking her soft, dark hair.

Then I sit back and look up at her. “Why did you tell me that?”

“Because this place, Olivia, it’s a pretty little shitheap—with a thousand bloodthirsty flies. But there is goodness here. I’ve felt it. I’ve found it.” She covers my hand, squeezing. “And my Simon loves Nicholas like a brother. So if he loves him, I know he is one of the good ones.”

There’s a knock at the door. With a pat to my knee, Franny rises and opens it. And Simon Barrister gazes at her, not like she’s the prettiest girl in the world—but like she’s the center of his universe.

“Time to go, darling.” He grins.

Franny waves. “Goodnight, Olivia.”

“Thank you, Franny, for everything.”

As they walk through the door and down the hall, I hear Franny say, “I’m very drunk, Simon—you’re going to have to do all the work tonight.”

“Good by me, love. That’s one of my favorite ways to do it—along with all the others.”

I set my brandy glass on the table and close the door. Then I turn the lights down, slip off my robe, and get into bed.

The room is dark and still. Quiet enough to hear the scrape of the wall as it opens, and the footsteps that move steadily across the room. Nicholas appears beside my bed, kneeling like the stained-glass saints in the windows of his cathedral—gazing at me through the darkness with ravaged eyes.

“Forgive me.”

It’s hard not to feel bad for him, when his remorse is so raw and real.

“The night we met,” I tell him softly, “I heard your voice before I saw you, did you know that? It’s beautiful. Strong and deep and calming.” I swallow, tasting tears. “But now I keep hearing you say those awful things, in your lovely voice.”

“Forgive me,” he whispers, harsh and sad. “I was trying to protect you, I swear. Keep you…safe.”

I do forgive him. It’s just that easy. Because I understand now.

And because I love him.

My eyes have adjusted to the darkness and I see him clearly. The dim moonlight from the window highlights the angles of his face, the incline of his cheekbones, the arch of his stubborn chin, the sharp strength of his jaw, the swell of those full lips.

It’s the face of an angel. A fallen angel with secrets in his eyes.

“I don’t like it here, Nicholas.”

His brows pinch, like he’s in pain. “I know. I never should have brought you here. It’s the most selfish thing I’ve ever done. But…I can’t be sorry for it. Because you have come to mean everything to me.”

I lift the sheet, beckoning him, and he slides beneath it, our arms searching for each other in the darkness. Nicholas’s mouth covers mine, gentle but with an urgent press of desperation. I give him my tongue and he moans. The sound turns my limbs liquid and the sadness that lingered between us turns to need.

We need this.

With my heels, I push his pants off his hips, then I slide down his body, leaving kisses in my wake. His cock is already hard and beautiful. I didn’t think a penis could be…beautiful…but Nicholas’s is. It’s perfectly shaped, thick and hot in my hand, so smooth and glistening at the tip.

I take him fully in my mouth—beyond the ability to tease. And he sighs my name as I suckle him, my tongue tracing the silken skin and tight grooves.

With a gasp, Nicholas lifts me back up. Devouring my lips, he rolls us over, lifts my nightgown and slides inside me. And there’s still that stretch…that delicious feeling of being so perfectly full. He stops when he’s fully buried—when we’re as close and tied as two people could ever be.

His eyes shine in the darkness, and he strokes my cheek, just gazing down at me.

And I know I love him. It’s right there—on my lips—just waiting for breath to say the words out loud. He kisses me, and I give them over to him, but silently.

Because it’s all already so very complicated. And it feels like, once I say those words I’ll cross a threshold I won’t ever be able to turn back from. Walk away from.