Page 225 of Hate to Love You
I sit here, just staring at him.
I’m sure my jaw is on the floor, but I can’t seem to form rational thoughts right now.
That’s when I feel the fire flooding my bones. The very same fire that spread through my blood stream to my brain and awoke my need to kill my husband.
Even from the grave that bastard is still fucking with me.
If he hadn’t pushed me down the stairs I wouldn’t be here right now, having my world turned upside down again.
I can have children. I’ve always been able to have children.
“Then who the fuck treated me?!” I yell, fighting the urge to get up and throw stuff against the wall. “Who the fuck told me all this shit?!”
“I don’t know, Foxy, but I’ll find him,” he growls darkly. “I’ll find him, and I’ll deliver you whatever part of him you desire.”
“No,” I whisper venomously, my voice rumbling in my chest. “He’s mine, Roman.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
ROMAN
“Abby, stop this.”
“No!”
“Let’s go,” I growl, twirling my finger around as I step into the hallway.
“I’ve already told you,” she spits angrily. “If you need to go handle your business that’s fine, but I’m not going.”
Jesus Christ, what’s the big deal?
“Yes, you are,” I say firmly. “I have business to attend to, but I’m not leaving you alone. Either you can come willingly, or I will just take you. Your choice, Foxy.”
She snorts, her jaw slack as she shakes her head in stunned surprise, before immediately trying to shut the door in my face, effectively trying to lock me out of the bedroom.
However, I anticipated this, and stop it with my hand, forcing it back open.
“I said I’m not leave—”
But I don’t let her finish that sentence.
Instead, like I did at the gala, and that day at my office, I throw Abby’s ranting ass over my shoulder and carry her out of the bedroom.
“I swear to God, Roman,” she hisses at me angrily, smacking my back, as I thump down the stairs. “You’re the most arrogant, controlling, possessive—”
“Yeah, I know. It’s okay, sweetheart,” I chuckle sarcastically. “I know you love me.”
“Arrrrgh!” Abby hands slam harder onto my back as she pushes against me.
“Uh huh,” I chuckle as Trevor opens the front door for me and I step outside.
“Boss,” Oleg says, clearing his throat as he awkwardly looks up at me holding a squirming and cursing Abigail, and wisely decides to divert his gaze. “I…uh…brought your car around as requested.”
“Go upstairs, and get my girlfriend’s purse,” I say, snatching the keys from his hand.
But if I thought Abby was going to be moved by my choice of words, I am sorely mistaken. Instead, she’s completely unfazed and continues to smack and yell at me.
“Roman Antonov, you put me down or so help me I will—”