Page 41 of Point of No Return

Andhell, there’s no way I can’t look. Every inch of skin is exposed, save for her purple bottoms and my towel laid over the back of her head. I walk forward, standing over her and freezing again when I see the scars across her back. Most of them look old, either faded pink or white patches obscuring the olive color of her skin.

Who the hell-

“You’re dripping all over me,” her muffled voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I quickly snatch my towel off her head, drying off without looking at the droplets I left on her.

“Water feels great,” I say, tying the towel off at the waist after running it over my scalp.

“Not a fan,” she mutters and I raise a brow.

“Not a fan of the water?”

“I just showered,” she says quietly. “And the humidity is already probably ruining sweet Serena’s work on my hair.”

I can only assume Serena is one of the servant’s that comes to help out during the day. My eyes narrow at her even though she can’t see me.

“A shame,” I tell her. “You know, for a minute there, it definitely sounded like you were complaining.”

I swear I hear the slightest huff of a laugh. “It is my honeymoon afterall. I can cry if I want to.” I smile at that. “I invited Liv, by the way,” her voice gets louder as she sits upright. I have to look away, catching the barest glimpse of her breast as she lazily ties the strings of her top in a bow again.

“Tomorrow?” I ask, clearing my throat. “The wedding planner?” I clarify, and she gives me a small smile at the confusion in my voice. I didn’t know they were friends.

“I quite like her,” she shrugs, and suddenly her floppy hat is gone and her brown curls are back and something about the silkiness of it makes me want to grab a fistful-

I clear my throat again. “So does my brother.”

Charlotte gives a full-blown smile, not really looking at me as she does. “I have a feeling she can handle herself… You know, she’s the only one who hasn’t asked about the sex.”

Christ.I scrub a hand down my face. “Sex?” I blurt.

“Yes,” she retwists her hair and sets her hat down on it as she slides her glasses off. “Heard of it?”

Damn this woman.

“Yeah, smartass. What about it?”

She shakes her head again. “Tyson already asked about it. As has my mother. I doubt it will go unnoticed.”

She doesn’t need to say it for me to realize.

We both know what’s expected of us.

Whatever my feelings on the matter, I knew the topic would come up eventually. Few things are expected out of an arranged marriage- children is one of them. People are bound to ask about an heir sooner or later. Whether that be a year. Or five. I just didn’t expect Tyson to be so direct.

“It’s no one’s business,” my voice is a growl when I speak again but she’s unphased by it.

“Iknow that,” she deadpans.

But no one else cares,is what goes unsaid.

I’ll take care of it, is what I don’t say as I drag a hand through my hair and look away from her. Suddenly, all that time spent tiring myself out is pointless because the energy is back, and I want nothing more than to text Crew and meet him at the gym for another session.

Anger never tires me out. It’s an endless stream of fuel, an undying fire in my gut. One that’s been burning for far too long.

“Does it hurt still?” I say, directing my thoughts back to the present.

I can tell from the look on her face that she doesn’t know what I’m talking about, but I raise my palm, the gash still red, angry, and scabbed over from ripping open so often.

She looks down at her own palm, holding her hands in her lap and absently tracing the mark, reliving the memory. “No,” she says without looking up. I want to tell her that I didn’t know it would happen, but I know it won’t matter.

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