Rouge: A Dark Billionaire Romance (Tattered Curtain Series)
Rouge: Act 3 – Scene 25

Lacey

I analyze the smooth features of his face to see if there’s a hint of guilt for keeping this from me. His strong jaw is set in his decision, but his brows pinch slightly in the middle as he studies me.

“You saw my father?” My free hand balls into a fist at my side and my legs vibrate with the need to dance, jump, fucking flee. The buzz I worked so hard for this morning nearly vanishes. “When did you see him? Y-yesterday? Was that who your meeting was with?”

When he nods, I try to recall every possible hint he could’ve given me during our hours of texting and phone calls.

“But… why did you have to wait two weeks to see him?”

A barely perceptible wince flashes across his face. So quick, I’m not sure if my tipsy mind imagined it.

“They wouldn’t let me meet with him straight away. Jail protocol.”

“Good God. Jails are so extra with their ‘protocol.’ But you could’ve told me what was going on.”

“I couldn’t. We weren’t sure whether Monroe had audio-based security.”

Something about what he’s saying doesn’t ring true, but there are so many feelings swirling around in this small booth—worry, lust, anger, betrayal, fear—that I can’t keep my head on straight. I’m not sure which emotion will win out.

I swallow past the emotions stuck in my throat.

“What did he… h-how was he?”

My father refuses to let me visit and while the prosecutor sits primly on the case, twiddling her thumbs, I haven’t been able to so much as hug him.

Kian’s harsh face softens a fraction and his hand massages my nape.

“He’s okay—”

“Don’t lie,” I hiss and try to shrug him off, but he doesn’t budge. “If he’s fine, why hasn’t he called me like he said he would?”

Kian hesitates before answering, “He’s alright, Lacey. His old mobile isn’t working anymore, but he’s going to get a new one. He told me to tell you that he loves you and that he’s okay.”

“He’s… okay. He’s okay,” I repeat slowly.

I try to swallow again, but my throat doesn’t cooperate and I cough instead. Kian squeezes my hand and his thumb caresses smooth circles on my neck as he tries to comfort me. To my surprise, it works.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“About his case, how he was framed—”

“So you believe he was framed now, too?” Hope takes flight in my chest for the first time in days and instead of shoving it down to protect myself, I let it soar.

“I do. Your father also gave me the go-ahead to use my own methods to learn who framed him and why.”

Kian is really going to help me.

The past two weeks of isolation had begun to chisel away the belief that anyone was on my side. Relief flows through my veins now until the words actually register in my mind.

“Wait, why are you doing all of this? I mean, I’m grateful… but why do you care so much? What’s in it for you?”

His eyes narrow with confusion. “You’re my wife, Lacey.”

I huff. “Alright, and why is that? Since you already know all my family’s secrets, maybe you can finally tell me yours. You said you married me because of who I am when no one is watching. But what does that mean, exactly?”

He rakes his hand through his hair, blocking out most of the light that peeks through the confessional’s curtain with his huge frame. It’s a miracle he has any strands left, although I have a feeling he doesn’t normally do this little quirk as often as he does it around me. I wish I had a better view now, though, because I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving the way his bicep flexes with the motion, testing the seams of his jacket sleeves, how the locks stand on end before they relax back into his perfectly tousled style.

He sighs, snapping me out of my daydreaming, and he nods to himself like he’s come to a decision.

“When I was a wee lad, I thought you had to be in love to get married.” His smile makes my chest flutter and I try to combat the feeling with a joke.

“That’s funny. I thought you just had to be told where to stand at the end of the aisle.”

He shakes his head. “Well, I imagined it’d be in a church like this one, and of course my wife was supposed to not only remember it, but she was supposed to want to be there,” he chuckles wistfully.

A small smile lifts my lips. “How on earth did a romantic like you survive in our world, Kian McKennon?”

“I had my parents to model after. They loved one another so fiercely it caused our families to hate each other. Did you know that?” When my brow wrinkles, he continues. “My mam was supposed to marry Charlie O’Shea in a political marriage, but my dad stole her away the night before her wedding. He would do anything for the woman he loved.”

“Even start a war between families, apparently.” I laugh.

He shrugs. “Like father, like son, huh?”

My lips part at the admission, and my breath catches in my chest. I want to respond, but I can’t for the life of me find the words.

“Watching them made me believe love was something I’d have for myself one day. And then, five years ago, it all came together like fate—or my mother’s design, whichever way you’d like to look at it. You were the one I was meant to fall in love with. But then one day she wasn’t here, and neither were you.”

My chest aches at the pain in his voice and my hand drifts to his face before I realize what I’m doing. His jaw muscles tic underneath the scruff beneath my fingertips, but he holds my wrist, keeping them there as he continues.

“Losing my mam, then finding out you weren’t going to be mine… it sent me off the deep end. I found solace in the wrong things. Tried any vice that could make me forget. Funny enough, with all the damage I could’ve done owning casinos in Vegas, poker was never my weakness. My love for the game and the strategy centers me. I don’t even gamble. I win and give everything back to the house. But liquor… that was my favorite poison. I tried to drown myself in it. Who cared if Kian McKennon never surfaced again? Certainly not Lacey O’Shea.” He huffs a laugh. “It’s funny to think about now since I stopped drinking because of you.”

My hand drops from his face to point at my chest.

“Because of me?” My voice lilts at the end and my heart stutters to a stop as I listen.

He nods. “A year ago, my dad dragged me kicking and screaming out of the pit of one of my benders. Once I came to, he gave me a queen of diamonds card and a job. I’d needed something to care about that was bigger than myself to get sober. So you became my purpose. I was to study the Red Camellia. Learn you inside and out. In the beginning, I used your social media—”

“Oof, I hate to break it to you, but Roxy does most of that for me. If you think you know me from my social media, you’re sadly mistaken. That Lacey is a completely different woman.”

“Oh, I know.” He chuckles. “I could tell. Professionally edited pictures. Perfectly curated for the masses. It was her social media where I saw the real you. In the background, you weren’t this bubbly, vapid socialite. You were the quiet girl, the rebel, and the free spirit. The Garde may keep you caged, but you rattle the bars every chance you get. I’ve studied you—the real Lacey—for over a year.”

He rests his hand above my head on the confessional wall and leans into me. Sweet, smoky amber fills my senses and makes my belly flip.

“You were my opponent and I analyzed you furiously until I knew your every tell. The more I found out, the angrier and more obsessed I became. This woman with a soft heart that she shielded from our harsh world…” He strokes my cheek and tips my chin to see the fire in his eyes. “This woman was supposed to be mine, but she thought that I wasn’t good enough. It made me hate you even as I fell in love with you.”

My eyes widen and my lips part, but he continues on.

“Then, on Devil’s Night, I saw you dance for the first time.”

“I… I never let Roxy post that,” I whisper. “Dancing is for me.”

“And you’re incredible at it. The passion in your body, face, the way you moved with me. Feck, I needed more. I had your queen of diamonds card and I had my orders. I even tricked myself into thinking I could follow them. But you changed my mind with every touch. And then I got a taste of you.”

“A taste?” I shiver at the thought of him feasting on me that night.

“A taste…” he murmurs low before brushing his lips against mine. It’s a whisper of a kiss, but it sends ripples of pleasure down my skin. “I married you because of this.”

“You… you married me because of a kiss?”

“Not a kiss. Your kiss. You kissed me first, Lace. You wanted me as badly as I wanted you and you went for it. The Garde tries to restrain that fiery strength inside of you… and I want to free it.”

The air is too heavy around us and my heart races in my chest. I search for something to relieve the tension and I try to huff out a chuckle.

“So a dance and a kiss. That’s what sealed my fate?”

He frowns at my attempt at deflection and yanks my left hand up.

“What’re you doing?”

“Making my point.”

My brow furrows as he tugs at each finger of my lace glove, slowly pulling it off, and it takes me a second before I realize he’s about to reveal my own secret.

“Wait…”

But he removes the glove in one fell swoop and holds up my hand. The silver band on my ring finger glints in the light.

“Even now, you rebel against the Garde so you can be mine.”

His gaze is intense, but I can’t look away from it, even as he unbuttons the top half of his shirt. He places my left hand over his warm, hard, bare chest before pressing his palm above the neckline of my dress, erupting goose bumps over my skin.

I hold my breath as his heart races underneath my palm, and my own sprints to match his pace. It’s not until my back leaves the wall that I realize my body has leaned into his, trying to connect everywhere it can.

“See, you feel it, too, tine,” he murmurs.

“F-Feel what?”

“This cuisle. The pulse between us that tugs us closer together. I felt it that first night and I could tell that you did, too. But if you feel this pull even half as much as I do, you should know why I stole you when I had the chance. This, more than anything else, sealed our fate. You say that you’re a pawn in this game. But you’re so much more. You’re not a pawn. You’re my queen, and you rule me, my rebel queen of diamonds.”

He caresses the sensitive skin above my breast as his hand leaves my chest to dip into his pocket and retrieve his silver poker chip. My hand still rests over his steadily thumping heart, but he lowers it to hold between us. Curiosity has me tilting my head as he raises the chip to the light peeking through the confessional curtain. The number twenty-four and the words “to thine own self be true” catch my eye on the raised silver exterior.

“I thought that was a poker chip,” I whisper.

“No, this… is a lifeline. This Alcoholics Anonymous chip has saved me countless times over the past year.”

Guilt nags in my mind at every joke I’ve made to him about drinking or when I snapped at him for being worried about me. I want to apologize, but I’m hanging on his every word and I don’t dare interrupt him.

“The day you became my focus was the first time in years that I didn’t have a drink. I went to my first of many AA meetings and got this twenty-four-hour chip. It’s the only achievement that’s ever mattered to me because it was the day my life changed for the better and I never looked back. I dove into my new purpose and sobered up. Except for Tolie and Merek, all my friends left me. For the past year, I’ve become religious about this mission, you, and my sobriety and this chip have helped me through it all. But now…”

He takes a deep breath and places the coin into my palm. “I want you to have it.”

The metal is warm from where his fingers have been. Gratitude and guilt war in my chest and I shake my head.

“Kian, I can’t take this.” I try to give it back, but he closes my hand around the chip again and presses it to my chest.

“It’s no coupon book, I know.” He chuckles. “But it’s my gift to you. The only way I’m leaving with it is if you leave with me.”

“I… can’t.”

“You have to get out of there. I’ll figure out what evidence Monroe has on my own. We can’t risk you going back to his suites. He’s too dangerous.”

“More dangerous than you?” It’s meant to be a flirty joke, but neither of us laughs.

“To the world? No. To you? Yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“With him, your life is in danger. With me? The world is. No one touches my wife.”

His voice is pitched low and ominous. It should scare me, but it hits me right in my core and my lower belly flutters in response even as logic screams at me to get a grip.

“Monroe is dangerous to my father, too. If I leave without answers, my dad might never get out.”

“And how far are you willing to go for this charade? Would you go through a second wedding? Sign an illegal marriage license? Fuck him? Have children that are supposed to be ours?”

“No… no.” I flinch at every word and shake my head as my resolve begins to crumble. “Kian, stop.”

“Lacey, no matter the outcome, if Monroe’s alive, he’ll have your father killed in the end.”

“But if someone kills Monroe before the trial, there’s no hope for my father, either!”

I slump onto the small bench and the longer I sit, the more Kian becomes a watery blur. I’ve only had his chip for a few minutes and already I’m clutching it like it holds all the answers.

“What am I going to do? I… I don’t want to do this anymore, but I don’t want to hurt my dad.”

“Oh, mo thine, come here.” His whisper sounds like “mu hin-neh.” I don’t know what it means, but his warm tone wraps around my soul like a heavy blanket as he gathers me into his arms. I press myself against him and shut my eyes tight to fight back tears, but eventually they win the battle.

Kian’s amber and smoky, sweet scent comforts me as he squeezes me tighter. It’s been so long since someone’s held me this way, if ever. The closest I can think of is the time my mother taught me the harsh truth about what it means to be a Garde wife. I’ve been lonely in my reality ever since.

“Come with me, tine.”

Those words. I’m desperate to give in. But…

“I can’t.” He resists when I pull away. “I have to do this for my family.”

“I’m your family now, too.”

“Maybe we could’ve been if things had been different.” I swallow to keep going even though I hate every word as it burns my tongue. “But we’re a stolen relationship and you took my decision to get married away from me.”

His brow furrows as he shakes his head. “Your family did that to us both first. And yet you’re loyal to them.”

The truth slams into my chest like a physical blow.

“I… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. I want to go with you. But doing that means my father loses his freedom because of me. You told him you’d use your own methods to find out who framed him. The Baron’s never home, so can’t I stay in his suite as a decoy until you’ve found out how to free my dad? If we try everything, then… then you can get me out.”

“Promise?” he asks, his brow raised.

I swallow, hoping I don’t regret this decision. “I promise.”

“I’ll work as fast as I can, then. But this?” He swipes his thumb underneath my eye, over the purple circles my concealer couldn’t hide after so many drunk and hopeless nights. “This isn’t okay, Lacey. The way you’re coping isn’t okay. I need you safe.”

“I’ll be safe. It’s not like the Baron will hurt me. He’d be too afraid of the optics, so there’s no way he’ll harm my ‘pretty face.’”

Just my soul.

Kian curses. “But if he so much as touches you—”

“I know, I know. Tell you where.”

“Immediately. I’ll give you a week. Respond to my messages and calls, and if you’re not taking better care of yourself by next Sunday’s Mass, I’m taking you home. Whether I have answers about your father or not. Got it?”

I wince and point to the shattered pieces on the ground. “But how will I message you?”

“I’ll take care of it. I’d take care of everything if you’d let me.”

“I know you would.”

I inhale him one more time before exhaling slowly. This decision is nearly taking all the willpower I have. I want him to whisk me away, giving me the freedom I crave. But then my father will never be freed.

Whatever Kian sees in my face must finally convince him that I’ve made up my mind. He nods to my hand that’s holding his chip.

“Keep that safe until you’re back with me. While we’re apart, see it as my commitment to you. I’m always with you and doing my damnedest to get you out of that pit.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly brings me to tears again and I give him a watery smile.

“Thank you, Kian. This gift means everything.” I tuck the coin in my dress pocket. “I’ll keep it here. Whenever I can’t wear my ring, they’ll be side by side.”

Possession and pride spark in his eyes, but a sliver of pain dims his expression. Is letting me go killing him as much as it’s killing me to leave him? I blink back the remorse threatening to spill down my cheeks and I clear my throat.

“Can I, um, can I have a kiss before I go?” I chuckle nervously. “Not on the lips, though, so we don’t get carried away again.”

He encircles my neck and tips my chin up with his thumb as his mouth hovers over my forehead.

“Somewhere like here?” His warm breath tickles my sensitive skin as he whispers. Before I can answer, his lips caress down to my temple until he kisses the apple of my cheek with a featherlight touch that makes me shiver. “Or here?”

My hands clutch the lapels of his suit jacket to keep me steady.

“Anywhere else?”

I shake my head, even though I’m dying for him to give the rest of me that treatment.

“Shame.” His accent thickens, making my core flutter as he whispers low, “I would’ve liked to kiss more of you before having to say goodbye. Love should be more than hushed conversations and stolen touches.”

Love…

I yank him down and collide my mouth against his. His tongue dives between my lips, wasting no time, and he tugs me by the waist against his already hardening cock. I thread my hands into his hair and he groans into my mouth—

“Lacey?”

My mom’s voice echoes through the church and a shock of fear straightens my spine. She calls again, closer this time, but I wait a moment longer, holding my breath until her high heels clack off into the distance.

I can’t meet Kian’s eyes when I finally whisper, “I have to go.”

His lips brush mine again before he pulls away.

“I… I care for you Lacey. Is tú mo rogha. Don’t make us regret you choosing this instead.”

I swallow, unable to respond.

I already do.

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