Page 96 of Point of No Return

His hand skates from my back to my hip, his lips at my ear as he speaks. “I have a few more things to do in the office.” His breath is hot against my neck. “I won’t be long.”

I twist toward him before he leaves, meeting his eye and standing on my toes to holler back. “It’s too loud in here!”

“Need to get away?”

I nod, letting my hair fall down my back. With one lingering look at me, he sweeps a tattooed hand through his own dark hair and nods. He mumbles something toward Crew before guiding me toward the stairs that lead to the office.

I stumble on the first step, and his hands come around my waist, hoisting me upright as I walk ahead of him. He reaches around me, easily unlocking the door and directing me inside.

The door blocks most of the sound, the bass still thumping loudly through the walls. It’s already cooler, but maybe it’s the alcohol that has me wrapping my hair up again and holding it off my neck.

His office looks the same except for the fact that he’s standing in the middle of it, watching me in the club lights. There’s something dangerous in that stare of his. It’s like he can’t quite tell whether to say something… or pretend like there isn’t this thick layer of tension between us.

I stroll toward the window overlooking the level below and focus on the undulating crowd. I hear him adjust a couple of papers on the edge of the desk, shuffling through them in search of something.

“So, why a club?” I ask, a feeble attempt at conversation.

He humors me, a slight chuckle on his breath. “What better way to expand the empire while also spitting in Tyson’s face?”

Crew has saddled up beside Aleks who is now flocking to a couple of guys the bouncer probably didn’t ID.

They look like old money.

Enough of it that Daddy’s influence got them in easily enough.

“Is that what it is? Spite?” I ask, turning back.

“Are you implying that you’ve never done anything purely out of spite toward your parents?” his gaze lifts.

The words are out before I can stop them: “Of course I have. I married you.”

He doesn’t hide his laugh this time, full and uncharacteristically loud. My heart nearly stops when his eyes settle on me again… because it’s as he smiles that I realize there’s a dimple hidden at the corner of his mouth.

A dimple. One I’ve never noticed before.

“Our marriage then,” he humors me. “What else?” He’s standing closer now, still glancing over a few documents.

“You first.”

Skar sighs, laying his palm flat on the desk. “I burned my father rather than burying him like he wished. Your turn.”

I narrow my eyes though he probably can’t see it in the lowlight. Part of me knows I shouldn’t answer him, but I do despite myself. “I used to go running and trade for trinkets at the market because I knew my mother hated it.”

It’s what I’d been doing when I came home and found Tyson on my doorstep. Months later and here we are.

Skar hums, opening the drawer of his desk and reaching for a thin stack of notes but not before I see the black pistol lodged in the corner of the drawer. The metal glistens in the club lights.

“The marriage was your mother’s idea then. Charles doesn’t seem nearly as involved.”

“He’ll only ever get involved if I make him question my purity,” I smile, hoping the answer is enough to end the conversation. But he just smirks again, revealing that damn dimple.

He pushes the drawer closed and scrawls something across one of the notes before neatly tucking the papers away. “Purity? Funny… Youaremarried.”

“Indignantly,” I clarify but the word tastes bitter in my mouth.

If it were wholly indignant, then why can’t I stop thinking about him?

“How’s that going?” His eyes are dark, unyielding as they wander over me- never giving away so much as a detail without him wanting to. “You would think four months ought to be spiteful enough. What’s keeping you now?”

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