I nodded.

The tequila was finally working. I felt the world slipping away. The flames he’d lit inside me were getting higher and higher. They were scorching me from the inside out, and I was so close to forgetting why I was asking for one night.

A tear slipped down my cheek. I wanted to forget. I wanted it all to be pushed at bay. “Kian,” I whispered, “they all know.”

He cupped the side of my face. “That just means they’ll know the truth.”

Maybe. Maybe not. I was too scared to hope.

I put his phone on the counter, and my hand went to his side, and I held on to him there, as if he were going to slip away.

“I need to call my lawyers and my publicist.”

I pressed against him.

He raked a hand down the back of my hair, soothing me. “But it’s just to tell them where I am. They have to get everything ready and fly here. They’ll be here by morning.”

Morning.

I wasn’t ready. When they came, the small hideaway we had would be gone, but I nodded, letting go of his side. “Call them.”

He didn’t move away. His hand still clasped me to him as he took the phone and dialed the number. He pulled me to his chest.

I could hear his voice through him as he called the lawyers first. An Ethan person wasn’t allowed to come. The lawyer on the phone was fine with that. The second call was to Laura and her publicist team. She asked about Felicia. Kian hesitated and then said he’d call her later. His third call was to Cal, and he only relayed that his team would be coming.

When he was done, I expected him to put the phone on the counter, but he didn’t. After dialing another number, he held the phone to me.

“What?” I took it.

“Call Snark. Tell him whatever you want.”

I was dumbstruck. I had no family and no friends now, but he was right. Snark would be concerned.

When he answered, he grunted into the phone, “I’m already on my way. Where is she?”

“It’s me.” I smoothed a hand down my hair, turning sideways but still in Kian’s arms.

My shoulder and side rested against his chest. One of his hands fell to my hip, anchoring me in place.

Snark was silent and then asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m drinking tequila.”

“That’s a no?”

I snorted. “I’m at Kian’s.”

“I’m already on my way.”

“You are?”

“I was coming to have a word with him anyway. You’re at the hotel? I’m pulling into the lot right now.”

Kian felt my tension and murmured into my other ear, “What’s wrong?”

Covering the phone, I replied, “He’s downstairs.”

A curse left him, and he straightened away from me. While he was still holding my hip, his eyes didn’t leave mine. “I need to call my lawyers one more time. Can you stall him?”

I nodded.

My eyebrows pinched together, but I hung up and gave him the phone. He went into the back with it as I went to let Snark inside from the elevator. He rushed past me, looking all around. He was wearing a brown trench coat, and his hair was sticking in the air, like he’d been grabbing at it. Worry lines surrounded his eyes and were at the corners of his mouth. He seemed to have aged ten years. The smell of cigarettes and cologne clung to him.

“Where is he?” He started for the living room and then the first opened bedroom door.

“On the phone.”

He smirked, rounding back to me. “With his lawyers?”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah. Why?”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing at his hair. He surveyed me and then gestured for the door. “Come on. I want you to come with me.”

“With you?” I stepped back against the counter.

Kian was still in the back room. The door was closed shut, but the thought of leaving him sliced me up inside.

“No.”

“This is enough!” His voice rose. “This romantic bullshit you have going on with him is going to put you in prison. I don’t care what he’s said to you, but his team is behind the leak. They’re his team, not yours. You are not their client. They want you front and center for the public, and they are willing to crucify you. He’s going back up before a jury, and it’s out there. He’s let the world know that he killed Edmund—”

“That was never in debate,” I cut him off.

The party. The look on Erica’s face. Hiding again. Running. The tequila.

All of it was rising together in one angry tornado in me. My voice started to shake but not from fear. “He has only said that he defended me. Edmund was torturing me. I fought and threw a book at the curtain. Kian was there. He was right outside and got a glimpse of what was going on. The right place, the right time. A second later, and he wouldn’t have seen a thing. Just one second later. But he was there, and he saved my life.”

“Good,” Snark clamped out. “And you can testify to that when you’re called to the stand because he is going back on trial.”

“No.” Kian’s voice was low, smooth. He moved from behind Snark, rounding to stand beside me.

Kian’s face was like granite, closed off but so strong. His shoulders were tense. His hands were in fists as they folded over his chest, and he narrowed his eyes at the FBI agent.

“I’m not actually. The district attorney just got off the phone with my lawyers. The case has been dropped. It borders too much on double jeopardy, and”—he skimmed over my face from the side of his eye—“they’re not going after Jordan either.”