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sterling silver, one on his middle finger and one on his ring finger. He’d never worn a wedding ring though everyone knew he had an old lady and a skanky one at that who should be a Saint Slapper instead of married to the VP. However it wasn’t any of my business and everything between us was murky, dark, diseased and polluted water under a sagging, dilapidated bridge.
     
    No use trying to change the past now when it is etched into me like the silly tattoo I have left like a scar on the small of my back.
     
    “I would love to get out of your space but one, I’m not in your condo and two, I need you to invite me in.” His blue eyes searched my face though I refused to look at him directly because to be honest, I couldn’t.
     
    My short, manicured nails dug into my palms as I balled my hands into fists. “Just…leave it alone and go home, Cillian. You shouldn’t be here.”
     
    “Listen, I would go home and I realize you hate me but…we have to talk.”
     
    The tone of his voice pulled my eyes back to his face and it’s only then I witnessed the pain and anguish within him. He looked miserable as hell and although I despised him with all my might, I knew I never had a choice to begin with if I was being honest with myself.
     
    “Fine, come in,” I reluctantly said before I turned my back on him and walked to my bedroom as I heard the door slam and the deadbolt click into place.
     

 
    Chapter Three
     

     
    Cillian

     
    Cillian knew how odd Gisela found it for him to be in her condo but he needed to get all this shit off his chest because if everything went down the way he thought it would, he would need a good attorney. He’d have to convince her beforehand to represent him and that in turn made her an accessory to his future crime.
     
    He hadn’t gone to law school like she had but he knew enough about the law to know what he was doing was highly dangerous for the both of them. This was a seductive game of cat and mouse and he wanted her so badly, he would have her anyway he could get her, even if it was under the worst circumstances.
     
    The position he would place her in couldn’t be much harder than worst case scenario and he hated what it would do to her but she needed to know.
     
    Cillian looked around her condo and noticed the hard wood floors with liberally spread Persian carpets, understated yet elegant furniture and a view to die for though there wasn’t much to see at the moment except the twinkling of lights that barely illuminated the McMansions on this side of the lake.
     
    Beyond the lake were trees and the wind blew outside, bitter and cold. Soon, there would be snow and he wasn’t looking forward to that. It was a bitch to ride a motorcycle on snowy roads and he would have to rely more on his truck to get him around unless it was official Club business. However, even then it wasn’t safe to drive them and better to load his in his Ford F-150.
     
    He didn’t even have to turn around to know she’d walked back into the living room. She was barefoot and wore a pair of silk pajamas. Her breasts were freed from the bra; he could see her nipples harden as she avoided his gaze and grabbed an ashtray from the kitchen counter.
     
    “Take your shoes off and sit down. Obviously, it’s serious and this is gonna take a while.”
     
    He took off his shitkickers and left them next to the front door before he strolled to the wrap-around sofa and sat beside her but made sure he kept his distance. The last thing he needed to do was spook her.
     
    Her amber eyes looked into his own as she grabbed a joint out of her cigarette case and lit it. She dragged from it before she handed it to him.
     
    “When did you start smoking bud?” Cillian knew he didn’t have any room to judge her—he wasn’t known as “The Killer” for nothing—but something about her was different and it was the first time he’d been able to notice it up close and personal.
     
    It wasn’t like they never saw