Chapter 0285

I pull back then, looking him in the face, meeting his eyes as best I can in the dark. “Have you killed anyone, Kent?” I ask quietly.

“Yes,” he whispers instantly, giving me his honest confession. “More than you'd probably want to know, Fay. Innocent men as

well as real scum bags. Cops, bosses, both sides. I’ve ordered hits and I’ve pulled the trigger myself. And...worse.” He sighs. “I

have a lot of blood on my hands, Fay.”

I nod, letting him know that I hear him as my gut twists as I think about what Kent has done. Because it’s not that I didn’t know it.

I just...it's easier to suspect, I guess, rather than have it confirmed.

“Is that...does that change you feel about me?” Kent asks serious, carefully observing my face.

And I take a long moment to consider his question, wanting to be as honest with him as he’s been with me. And then, as I stare

at him and really search my heart, I’m a little surprised to find that there’s no part of me that wants to run screaming from him

now that I know this. And maybe it’s my mafia baby genetics, or the fact that I've been living in a mafia household for months?

But it doesn’t. It doesn’t change a thing about how I feel for him. Not at all.

“No,” I say simply, looking evenly into Kent’s face. “It’s not a problem for me. Unless...are you going to kill more people?”

Kent laughs then, a dark thing. “It’s not part of my agenda Fay, no.” He lowers his head to my neck then, running his nose and

his mouth along the length of my skin there before pulling back a moment later. “I would, though,” he adds seriously. “You should

know that. If anyone came to threaten you, or Daniel? I wouldn't hesitate. I was born and raised to be a killer, Fay,” he continues,

shaking his head regretfully. “You should...know that about me. It’s not something I can, or would, wipe away.”

I nod once, accepting it, and I slide my own hand up his neck and into his hair, letting my fingers tangle there as I pull him tight

against me again, wanting him close. “Thank you,” I murmur, as Kent rolls his body over mine a little, letting his weight rest

against me. “For trusting me.”

“I do trust you, Fay,” he murmurs, nudging my nose with his. “I wish you would trust me.”

I laugh up at him then. “Kent,” I say, shaking my head and smiling a little, “when you say ‘trust me,’ sometimes you mean ‘let me

run your life for you.”

“Yes,” he says decisively, sliding a hand up my arm and lifting it above my head, stopping only when he’s got my wrist pinned

against the mattress. “That would be preferable, Fay. For you to cede me complete control.”

“Well,” I whisper, biting my lip as I

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