Page 50 of No Control

And I hate what I see.

Disappointment.

“What’s wrong with me wanting you?” I mean, other than the obvious reasons that she’s completely oblivious to right now.

Her lips purse and she winces. “I was engaged.”

“I saw the ring.”

“I broke up with him right after we met.” Her eyes hold mine, and something that I thought was dead and gone comes to life in my chest. “We were together for six years.”

“That’s a long time to be miserable.”

She laughs, devoid of humor. “Something like that.”

“Why’d you break up?” I ask, filling my glass with scotch again. My dick is unsatisfied with tonight, but my soul is on a whole other level. She’s letting me in. No one lets me in—and for good reason.

She fidgets with the white towel wrapped around the icepack, and then shrugs. “I…I guess it’s because he told me he would be fine with me sleeping with you for more money— but it’s more than that.”

I hate talking about this failure of a man, but if it means we don’t have to ever again, then good riddance. “It’s fucked up he was supportive of that.” Not for me, but for her. She deserves someone who’d never put a price on her.

“He saw it as a way to pay off his student loans,” she scoffs, tipping her head back and letting out an empty, painful laugh. Lydia stops then, looking at me. “I don’t even miss him. I think I’m messed up, because after six freaking years, I’m not heartbroken. And what? A few days later, I’m with someone else, not even thinking about him.”

“But you’re thinking about him now,” I level, downing the rest of the alcohol. I can’t blame her for it—it’s fresh. But I like to kill and forget about it. It never serves me to relive it.

“Not in that way,” she meets my gaze. “He didn’t take the breakup well.”

Here we go.

“Yeah? Well, I figure being dumped by you would be life shattering.”

She chuckles. “No, I think it just made him angry. He started stalking me.”

I tap my finger on the glass, eyeing her. “Guess it’s a good thing you’re gone.”

“My mom said he took off to Vermont after I left or something. Maybe the cops scared him off.” She says the words with a false air of confidence, and it makes my stomach sick.

I could lay it out for her. I could tell her the truth. I could admit that I slit his fucking throat in the name of her, for her. He’d never touch her ever again. No one will but me. But she’d hate me—and I don’t think I could handle that yet.

“Sorry for unloading,” she clears her throat, offering out the icepack. “Talk about a mood killer.”

“I told you not to apologize.” I take it from her, meeting her eyes. “You’ll never kill the mood for me either.”

A blush crawls across her cheeks. “I don’t know. I can be a lot.”

I run my thumb along her bottom lip. “So can I.”

A scraping at the door startles her, and she jerks her head around, Duke standing at the glass door, peering in. “Oh my gosh, I forgot he was out there.” Lydia slips away from me, trotting to the door and opening it. “I’m so sorry, Dukey.” She drops to her knees and hugs the dog.

“I don’t think he minded,” I tell her, tossing the icepack back into the freezer drawer.

She looks back at me, a playful expression on her face. “Of course, you’d say that.”

“It is what it is.” I flip the towel over my shoulder, the sound of footsteps catching my attention. Jude appears in the kitchen moments later, his gaze bouncing from me to Lydia. I have no idea if he heard us.

But I don’t care.

“Can I talk to you? It’s business.”

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