Page 109 of Keep Him Like Secrets

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Saff

For just a night, I pretended nothing else existed but welcoming Soren into my life without all of the lies and half-truths.

I didn’t even know where my phone was once we sat down on my reading chair, let alone who was calling and texting.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was that we’d somehow, despite it all, managed to still hold out hope for our future.

I wasn’t entirely convinced that, once the dust settled and he wasn’t distracted by sex, he wouldn’t completely change his mind.

It was a lot to take in.

I mean all I had to learn to wrap my head around was Soren’s relationship with Alen.

He had to contend with my real identity, the destruction of my fake one, how I’d been secretly plotting to use our business to wash dirty money… the list went on and on.

I knew he was a rational guy, but asking him to somehow compartmentalize all that was probably too much.

Those were the thoughts I’d fallen asleep to while letting myself be wrapped up in Soren’s arms in my bed.

And waking up alone was the gut-wrenching belief that all those terrible thoughts of mine were true. That he’d woken up before me, had a little think, then ran for his life.

Likely right to the damn police station to turn me in.

It wasn’t until I sat up to find my strawberry coffee mug sitting on the nightstand, still warm, that the choking anxiety loosened its hold on my throat.

As I reached for it and took a sip, I also became aware of something else out of place.

The sounds of clanking in the kitchen.

What the hell could even be clanking?

I didn’t own a single pot or pan.

Curious, I went into the bathroom, pulling my wild hair into a clip, brushing my teeth, then slipping into some comfy sweats before making my way back out into the hallway.

My footsteps faltered when I heard the timbre of male voices.

Two male voices.

The incredibly welcome one belonging to Soren.

But also… Renzo.

My stomach twisted as I forced myself to move forward, to face whatever the two of them wanted to throw at me.

“Shit, that’s rough,” Renzo said, wincing at my face.

The bruises really had gotten a chance to settle in over the night. The one across my cheek from taking the brunt of the punch was a deep purple and blue with mottling of red around the edges. But thanks to my nose also being hit, I had two decent black eyes to look at for a week or so as well.

“Nice to see you too, Renz,” I grumbled.

“Want a warm-up?” Soren asked, already approaching me with the coffee pot.

“He makes a good cup,” Renzo said, his hand wrapped around a cup I’d bought but hated the handle to, so it lived in the back of my cupboard.

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