Page 43 of Betrothed in Fury
He’s not wrong, though. If I’m going to be with him for the rest of my life, then I should discuss things like hobbies and interests with him.
“Well, let’s see,” I begin. “You’re good at tennis, pickleball. You enjoy jogging, and you’re a good shot at the range.”
His gaze locks with mine. He looks thrown.
“Isn’t this what you wanted to discuss?” I ask.
“Did you hire someone to probe my private life?”
“Of course I did. Did you think I would just marry someone I knew nothing about?”
“You could’ve asked me about these things.”
“I’ve saved us time.”
He huffs, his lips curling upward, as though he’s found some dark amusement in all this. “You really are something, Killian. You’re basically making it impossible for me to do anything other than despise you.”
Why does it feel so good to hear him say that? Maybe because it means I’m getting to him, like I do with all my enemies. That I’m on his mind more than he likes. I like being on his mind.
“Maybe now you have a better understanding of why I can focus on the things that interest me more, like yourcunt,” I say, enjoying bringing back a subject I know he has no interest in. “But please, tell me how you enjoy the shooting range.”
He seems to consider this, maybe to decide how to respond. “I’d prefer to talk about tennis. My brother Malaki is better, and reminds me of it every time we play.”
I’ve only met Malaki a few times, and it doesn’t surprise me. From what I know, he’s good at a lot of things. A natural talent.
“Since you’ve already gotten to know me without my consent,” Logan says, “while I didn’t have someone stalk you, maybe you can tell me more aboutyou.”
“I don’t have time for hobbies,” I spit out.
He sighs, like my answer exhausted him, so I try to do better.
“Gardening. It’s what Old Terror used to enjoy, and I took it up after he passed because someone needed to tend to his plants.”
“Gardening? Well, that’s unexpected.”
“Why?”
“That requires a delicate touch, which you don’t seem to have.”
“I can be very delicate,” I insist, and his gaze shifts to my lips. “Why are you looking there? Because when my lips touched your skin, you thought them delicate?”
“I didn’t say that,” he objects.
“You didn’t have to. It’s all over your face, and I’m damn good at reading people, so don’t lie to me.”
He seems annoyed with my observation, staring me down until he finally says, “If you say so.”
“I suppose there’s only one way for you to find out for sure.”
There’s a flash of worry in his gaze, and he takes a sip of his wine, I figure to make it more difficult for me to read him.
“What about movies?” I ask.
“That didn’t come up in your investigation?” His words carry his resentment for my prying.
“Would you have preferred I lie to you and pretend I didn’t know anything?”
He considers this before saying, “Anything other than action movies. I could use less action in my life, not more. What about you?”
