Page 19 of Iris' Lying Eyes
Bastion has men? Shit.
Wiping my sweaty palms down my dress, I look back at the house. This didn’t go quite as I was expecting, and I’ll have to revisit and revise, but whatever the plan, it sure as shit doesn’t include playing house with Bastion Smith.
Hell, no.
The ride to his home is icily quiet. I stare blindly out the window before turning to Bastion, who’s eyeing me broodily.
“What’s going on?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, waving his hand.
“I was at my house when those asshats came along,” I say in my bitchiest tone.
His eyes darken, and he grabs my hair, pulling me around. Immediately, I lower my gaze and damn myself for it, but years of beatings supersede any defiance that may be left in me.
“I don’t think you understand, but once I’m done explaining, you’ll have no excuse, hm?”
Meeting his black eyes, I raise a brow. He smirks, the affectation sending a chill down my spine. Bastion has always been a badass motherfucker, but something stole his soul, and now the passionate man I knew is gone.
I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not exactly who I was either, but my heart pulses with the loss because I always thought he’d be what I needed him to be.
“What happened to you?” I whisper.
His eyes flicker, and he drops my hair, rubbing his hand over his chin.
“I’m Bastion Bruno, and you just entered my world. Stay in your place, and we won’t have a problem.”
Bruno? What the fuck? As in Roman Bruno? This is bad, very fucking bad.
Since when is he a damn Bruno? If he is, he’s more powerful than ever, and if he so chooses, he could ruin me.
Thoughts of which pale in comparison to what this means for John. Does he know? Is this why he’s looking for her? Wait, fucking wait…did I walk into the biggest fucking mistake of all? But I didn’t know he’s a Bruno. I…? Fuck.
Hiding my panic behind a smirk, I shake my head and say, “When have I ever listened to dicks like you?”
His eyes darken, but he merely shrugs. “You want to play? Let’s go. I have a feeling you won’t like how this ends.”
“This ends with you stopping this fucking car and letting me go,” I hiss.
He chuckles, and I growl, smacking his arm. Before I can do more, he grabs my hair again and leans in until our mouths are practically touching.
In remembrance of every sinful thing he’s done, my body stands to attention, and I silently curse when I arch my chest. Way to play it cool.
His eyes drop to my boobs, heaving in anticipation, and his mouth curls in a dangerous smile. “You want me to drop you here? Why? So you can go back to John? This is it, baby. You’re mine until I get what I want.”
“I’m no one’s,” I protest, visions of John saying the very same burning my skin. I’ll never allow another man to control me. Never.
“No? How’s John these days? He still grooming his pretty princess?”
“Fuck you,” I growl.
With a grunt, he lets me go and says, “I want answers. So you’ll stay, and you’ll behave. And if you do, I’ll repay you.”
“How so?” I ask, ignoring the clench in my heart that reminds me that this boy-turned-man worshipped me once upon a time.
Or so I thought. Stop being a maudlin idiot.
“What do you want?” he asks.