Page 82 of The Betrayal
The elevator doors ping and I know that my minutes are numbered so, instead of angering the beast any more than I already have, I decide to walk out and wave my white flag in surrender.
All it took was one foot out of my office for his pretty blue eyes—that are almost exactly the same shade as Arizona’s—to harden. Hers are more of a summer’s ocean blue, his more like ice.
Sounds about right.
“Well, well, well…” he whistles, placing the takeout coffee on his desk and I swallow the large apple sized lump. “Look who has returned.”
His eyes move to my left hand, seeking out the yellow band, but I fold it into my suit pocket in a poor attempt to hide it from him.
“Hey,” I just about manage, “did you get me a coffee?” my voice is tight and fucking hell what is wrong with me. I feel like I am back in sixth grade when I used to get beat up at lunchtime.
“No,” his eyes are thunderous.
“Standard,” I nod.
“Don’t get smart.”
“Hardly getting smart,” I scoff, rocking up onto my toes for just a moment and landing back on my heels.
“I’m warning you Keaton.”
“Or what Titus?” I raise my voice. “You’re mad, I get it, come and take it out on me. That’s what you want isn’t it? To lay punch after punch into my pretty face because I married your daughter.”
Well, fuck me, it was like waving a red flag in front of his eyes.
If you need more clarification, I’m the red flag.
He is the fucking bull.
He charges at me, his arms around my waist as he throws me to the ground and he knocks the fucking air out of my lungs as he winds me. I roll on my side, eyes crossing as I try and gasp for breath.
“You fucking married my daughter!” he shouts, and I swear spit flies out of his mouth and lands on me.
Deserved it.
If roles were reversed, I would have properly spat on him.
Inappropriate thoughts invade me for just one, split second at the thought of spitting, but I shut them down in an instant.
Not the time Keaton, not the fucking time.
“I did, yes,” I finally manage now I have caught my breath.
“I trusted you!” I wish his tone was softening, but if anything, it was getting more and more angry.
“I know,” I roll onto my front and slowly push myself up but then he gives me a blow to the ribs with his perfectly polished shoe. “Deserved that,” I grunt, pushing up again and this time, he lets me push to my knees.
“Seven and a half billion people in the world and you set sights on my daughter, why Keaton? WHY?!”
And I’ve had it.
I stand, squaring up to him, chest to fucking chest.
“You want to know why?” I seethe, eyes pinned on him.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Because I wanted to, because unfortunately for you, I love her. I’m in love with her. That’s it. No bullshit. No excuses. I LOVE HER!” and now it’s my turn to shout and shove him.