Page 163 of The Grand Duel

He turns on me. “You’re?—”

I step into his face, my jaw rigid. “I’ll take the door off the fucking hinges myself, or you can get that prick out of there and save me causing a scene.”

His lip twitches, and then he eases back slightly. “Because you asked so nicely.”

He shoulders past me, pulling his phone from his pocket momentarily before dropping it back inside. He walks to the rooms and to the door.

I look from him to the door over and over again, my throat growing tight.

“You hurt her, and I’ll break your fucking legs, pretty boy. I don’t care who you are or how much money you have.”

One of my eyebrows lifts as I eye him.

“I mean it.”

He keeps his eyes locked with mine as he unlocks the door and pushes down on the handle. The second the mechanism clicks I push inside, not thinking twice past the need to have her out of the room and away from the asshole who thinks he can touch what isn’t his.

Only he isn’t in the room with her.

It’s just her.

And me.

My nostrils flare at the sight of her blindfold. Of her waiting for him. At the idea she’d have done this again.

She’s wearing a black bra and thong, the lace see-through.

I work my jaw and walk to where she stands, her chin lifting when she senses the movement.

She’s nervous. I can see it in the tension around her shoulders, the taut line of her mouth.

I swallow, maybe as nervous as she is.

I’ve not known what to say to her all day. How do I make it better? Make her not hurt or hate me.

I can’t stand the idea of her hating me.

As I study her bow-shaped lips, I reach up with my hand. I barely make contact with her chin before she knocks my hand away and reaches to pull away her blindfold.

Our eyes meet and hold, hers wild, her chest rising and falling in tandem with my own.

I lock my jaw in the hope it eases the tightness in my chest. “You’d sleep with another man?” My brow gathers, the tightness only getting worse. “Here, Lis. In this room?”

Her shining eyes flick around my face, her features softening, and I wonder if the sight of me eases her ache in the same way she eases mine.

I force myself to look away, my chest too fucking tight. My eyes widen when I realise the room we’re in isn’t even the same one that the guy was sent to.

Somehow, in a mist of panic and fury, I missed that.

I shake my head. “You knew it wouldn’t be him,” I accuse, realising. “You knew I’d come for you.”

She swallows and nods.

I don’t know how I look to her right now, but I feel like a meteor travelling too close to the sun. A fucking mess of a man whose only need seems to be this woman standing in front of me. I feel ready to rip whatever it is she’s wearing off her and forget that the world around us exists.

Closing my eyes, I rein it in.

I do my best to, at least.