Wicked Idol: A Hellfire Club Novel

Rhys’s fingers curled around my cape as he pulled me closer and deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping between my lips to caress mine. It was instinct as much as anything that had me tilting my face up to offer Rhys more—and that’s when I heard it.
The clatter and crash of a candelabra falling over, and the gasps and shrieks that followed. I broke away from Rhys’s kiss to see Lennox disappearing through the far doors, his stride quick and furious.
From the way people were staring and whispering, it was clear he was the one who knocked over the candelabra.
As if he’d flung it to the ground in anger before storming away.
“Well, then,” Rhys said with satisfaction, his eyes also on Lennox’s retreating form. “I was right.”

“I don’t think he likes seeing me have fun.”
The cipher-like smile only grew bigger. “If he hates you dancing, then he’ll definitely hate this.”
And right there, right in the middle of the ballroom floor with couples waltzing around us and candles flickering everywhere, Rhys kissed me.
Kissed me!

“He is watching,” I said, more to myself than to the tall devil spinning me around the floor.
“He’s always watching you.”
“He hates me, you know.”
Rhys smiled a cipher-like smile. “Maybe.”