Page 22 of Cruel Secrets

Shrugging, I tuck my hands in my pockets and head for the door. “How the hell am I supposed to protect her when you wanted to pretend she didn’t exist?”

“You’re a bastard.”

“And you’re so high up on your damn horse that you can’t see the game you’ve set in motion by keeping my daughter from me.” I pause in the doorway, looking to her for a moment. “But for what it’s worth, the next time you want to get off, just call. I’d be happy to help.”

All I hear as I close the door is a loud bang, sending it rattling on the frame.

Even as I walk down the hall, the image of her—cheeks flushed, eyes blazing—stays with me.

She may have stripped me of control for now, but she won’t get away with it forever. I’m not playing any fucking games.

Gia’s about to learn that the hard way.

CHAPTERSEVEN

GIA

If there is a past life,I must’ve pissed off someone powerful—being trapped with Royce Lynde is no coincidence.

I should have killed him the second he walked in on me last night.

The thought makes it harder to breathe as I stare at Bianca’s soft curls, wondering how the hell I’m going to get us out of here. After going to the washroom and splashing some cold water on my face, I head into Bianca’s room, peeking at her from the doorway. She’s still sleeping, her dark curls a wild mess, standing on end in every direction imaginable.

Somehow, I’m going to have to get her out of here and back home so we can return back to our normal lives.

I doubt that Royce is going to make it easy.

Heaven forbid he make anything in my life easy.

As I head down the stairs, the scent of bacon frying comes from the kitchen. My stomach growls, betraying my desire to just tell Royce off and then stay as far away from him as possible.

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, I roll my shoulders back, steeling myself. “What happened last night is never going to happen again.”

“Calm down. I didn’t even kiss you, even though we both know you wanted me to.”

His back is to me, his shirt off and a tattoo of a dying angel on his back. I step closer, all thoughts leaving my head at the sight of it.

There’s something about the way the angel’s face is inked that seems so familiar.

The wings of the angel look like they’re burned, shaded with black and grays that make it pop against his skin. Tears glisten on the angel’s cheeks as she rests on her knees, a knife plunged into her side, just below her ribs.

It’s then that I see why the angel looks so familiar.

“Why the hell is my face tattooed on your back?”

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder at me, his short beard unruly as lighter strands catch the sunlight streaming through the window. “Does it look like you? Never noticed before.”

“You’re impossible. You know damn well why that looks like me.” I plant my hands on my hips, standing there and waiting for another explanation.

My heart jumps in my chest. Maybe there is a possibility that he doesn’t hate me as much as he pretends he does. Maybe there is a world in which I survive living with him.

Royce gives me none, leaning over the pan and flipping the bacon. “There’s more over on the plate by the fridge if you’re hungry. Pancakes are staying warm in the oven.”

“Really, Royce? You’re just going to move past this like you didn’t barge your way into my room? Or like you’re not standing here pretending that you don’t know why you have my face on your damn back?”

Smirking, he shrugs and pulls the last of the bacon out of the pan, setting it on a paper-towel lined plate.

I don’t think anyone has ever gotten beneath my skin the way he does. My heart thuds as I wait for him to turn back around just so I can get another look at the angel. I want the proof that I meant something to him once upon a time.

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