Page 54 of Keep Him Like Secrets

His footsteps retreated before Saff finally turned to look at me.

Her gaze was intense, her smile self-satisfied.

She knew what she’d done to me, what power she had over me now.

Then, without a fucking word, she turned with a smile and left me there just like that.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Saff

“You’re in a mood,” Bastian said as we stood in Renzo’s apartment after our usual weekly meeting, everyone discussing any issues going down with their associates, soldiers, or clients.

As always, after the actual meeting, things shifted more to party mode. Food was delivered. Drinks were poured. Music came on.

I usually loved the parties at the boss’s house.

It gave me the feeling of family that I’d never gotten to have while growing up. I ate up the familiarity, the feeling of belonging.

But, yeah, I was not feeling it.

“I’m always in a mood,” I said, tone dead. “It’s kind of what I’m known for.” Was that a bit of bitterness in my voice? And if so, why?

I was proud of my reputation.

Ilikedthat everyone in this room knew I was a badass, that I’d busted my ass to belong with them.

Why would I suddenly be annoyed by that?

Why did it no longer feel like enough?

“It’s different. You’ve been different.”

“Different how?” I asked, spine tingling, worried that he’d maybe seen or heard something he shouldn’t have.

But, no.

Bastian wasn’t someone to keep his thoughts to himself. If he thought you were being shady, he called you out. To your face. He told you exactly what he thought. It was something you had to respect about him. Even if no one liked being called out.

“I dunno,” Bass said, following me as I made a beeline for the bar, needing something to calm my nerves.

“Then how can you say I’m different?” I asked, going for a double pour of whiskey.

“You’re… quieter,” he settled on, watching me take a long sip of my drink. “Reserved, even. And I know I don’t know you as well as the rest of these fucks,” he said, waving out at the party. “But I know you enough to know you’re being weird.”

I shrugged, finishing my drink, and reaching for the bottle again.

Bastian’s hand shot out, closing over mine on the bottle, keeping it against the bar.

“What are you drinking about?”

“I’m not drinkingaboutanything. It’s a party. Everyone is drinking.”

“Saff…” he started, his voice actually sounding concerned.

I wasn’t accustomed to that—having anyone worry about me, want to know what was going on with me.

I felt the absurd sting of tears in my eyes and blinked them frantically away.

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