Page 56 of Empire of Lust
No, no. No fucking way.It was bad enough what happened on Friday, but if he suspects I’m sleeping with Callum… Stop. That’s paranoia talking. He must know I moved in while Tatum’s gone and assumes I’m spending time with her dad. That’s it. “No, maybe I grew up a little. Maybe I see things through different eyes. I guess I should thank you for that.”
“You see things through different eyes? Good. Because I have something for you.”
My heart lurches when he reaches into his leather shoulder bag. Adrenaline crashes through me, taking over my fight-or-flight response, and I’m about to turn on my heels and dart across the street when he pulls his hand out. It’s not a gun or any kind of weapon that he’s holding. It’s a manila envelope.
“This is for you.”
“What is it?” I ask, eyes trained on the envelope. It’s slim. I’m sure there’s hardly anything in it.
“Open it and find out.” He holds it out to me. “Take it. It’s for your own good.”
Maybe it’s the fake gentleness in his voice or the fact that he believes he has the first clue what is and isn’t good for me. Whatever the reason, my blood boils. “You don’t have the first clue what’s good for me, Lucas, and I don’t know how you could ever assume you did.”
Irritation—and wanting to get this over with—makes me snatch the envelope from his hand. But I don’t open it. Instead, I tuck it into my tote bag. “There. I took it. Happy?”
His familiar, dark eyes pierce my own. “Don’t you want to know what’s in there?”
I shrug. “Not really.”
“You’ll feel differently once you see the proof,” he predicts with a smirk. “I have to wonder what your dear ole dad would think if he knew who you’ve been spending time with?”
My boiling blood turns to ice in seconds. Only pride keeps me from pulling out the envelope and tearing it open. “Get a life, Lucas. It’s over. I’m no longer your problem.”
He has the nerve to look like I’ve wounded him, all sad and pouty. It’s an old trick he’s pulled on me a thousand times. “Don’t you get it? I can’t leave you alone.”
“I don’t care what you can and can’t do. Leave me alone, or you’ll regret it.”
I try to sidestep him, but he cuts me off, his firm body pressed against mine, trapping me in place. To my horror, he leans in, his lips inches from my own. No fucking way.
CALLUM
Rage.
It rushes out of me like a volcano, all because of what I’m witnessing outside the apartment building across the street from where I parked, waiting for Bianca.
It’s enough to suck the air from inside the car and tighten my chest until my heart’s about to burst from the strain. Sweat beads along my temple, and my skin becomes tight. I’m going to explode.
They’ll find me here, dead of a heart attack or stroke, sitting behind the wheel across the street from where Bianca—my Bianca, nobody else’s—ducks away from her ex-boyfriend’s attempt at mauling her.
He owes her his life for that. I’m not stupid. I know he wouldn’t have stopped at a simple kiss, and then I would have had no choice but to end his miserable life. All that keeps me from firing off a bullet into the bastard’s skull is the way she rejects him. I have the grim pleasure of watching her shove him away with both hands. The windows of my car are rolled up, so there’s no telling what she says, but her facial expressions are enough.
She’s disgusted. Furious. She even flips him the bird before marching away, arms folded over her chest. Her lips are moving, and I can imagine what must be pouring out of her as she slams herself inside her car.
“Good girl,” I murmur, breathing like I just finished a run. My hands are wrapped around the steering wheel when I’d rather have them wrapped around that son of a bitch’s neck, squeezing until he goes purple and the light leaves his eyes.
The idea is intoxicating, and I savor it like a fine wine while observing his reaction.
He watches her every move while wearing a look of utter misery. That’s the only reason I’m willing to leave him alive. I won’t give him the mercy of death. I like knowing he’s wallowing in the shit he put in place. The ignorant prick deserves to lie in the bed he made.
“If you’re smart, you’ll go home,” I mutter, staring at him. “You need to leave, shit stain. Don’t even think about following her.” Even if it would give me the excuse to have him shot on sight for trespassing on private property. I doubt he would be that stupid, or I hope not. Then again, he was brainless enough to cheat on the most perfect creature to draw breath, so I suppose he’s capable of anything.
You fucking hypocrite.
My skin prickles, thanks to a reminder from my seldom-used conscience that I’m no better than him. Here I am, warning him against following Bianca after following her myself. She told me this morning she’d be looking at an apartment tonight—like it was nothing, like she wanted me to be happy for her. There I was, assuming we’d settled that. I was expecting her to move in permanently. My fists clenched tight when she said it, but I doubt she noticed.
She might have chosen differently if she had the first clue of what her announcement did to me. How I instantly saw her in my mind’s eye tied to my bed, locked behind a heavy door, at my beck and call.
I had no choice but to let her go to work and wish her well, thanks to Romero’s unexpected presence in the kitchen while we shared a quick breakfast. He saw her, overheard our conversation—and while he’s looked the other way on a great many things, every man has his limits.