Page 9 of Gilded Whispers

Shit.

“Stella Moone. I’ve been looking for you.” His voice twists with cruel intent. I get “The devil in the Garden of Eden” vibes roll off the man. A silent warning I failed to see when I first met him.

For all the places for him to find me.

My lips curl with bitter disgust. Fire burns at the edges of my eyes. But I fight to hide every single hot tear that wants to fall from this snake in Armani.

“William Allen Brigh.”

A blonde clings to his left arm while another snuggles into his right. Both look at me like they want to fight me for the right to have him all to themselves.

Fuck them. They can have him.

I swallow hard. “I knew hell would spit you out and back into my life eventually.”

Three

Stella

My hand drops to my abdomen and I rub the puckered scar two inches to the right of my pelvis bone.

Willam’s eyes track my movement and the cruel laugh that peels from his lips sends chills through my body. “Is that how you should speak to the first love of your life?”

Hetsksat me like I’m a child who needs correcting.

Malice drips from his metaphorically forked tongue.

I’m not a malicious person but this one time I wish the floor would open up and hell would pull this slithering demon back into the pits of fire where he belongs.

I scrunch my nose in disgust. “First love? You mean the nightmare I barely escaped, right? You’ll never be any woman’s true love,” I retort hoarsely, barely containing the need to drive the nearest sharp item through his heart. Past fear, regret and bile burn my vocal chords.

He takes a step in my direction, sending a wave of fear crashing over me. Dread drops into my stomach.

My hand flies up as if I can snatch magical powers out of thin air to send this piece of trash flying out of the nearest window.

I’m not that fortunate.

“Stay the fuck away from me,” I warn. I have zero defenses against this asshole, but I'm not beneath tearing my stiletto off and using it to make him bleed.

William’s eyes narrow on me. Arrogance pulls the bastard’s shoulder back and forces his chin high. Like his body is physically saying, “how dare I tell him what to do.”

For every step I take in reverse, the snake who tried to off me in the dead of night two years ago slithers closer. My vision blurs and I’m right back to the night I nearly died because of this man’s greed, rage and lack of respect for another person’s life.

I glance around the lounge to see who I can put between me and my psycho ex but it seems everyone is gone. Even the freaking bartender is nowhere in sight.

I make eye contact with them. “He’s all yours. Be warned though, if you have an ounce of decency in your bones, he will try to cut it out of you and then leave you bleeding out on the kitchen floor. Ask me. I have the scar to prove it.”

Both blondes drop their attitudes at the same time and look up at their date with disbelief.

“Baby, she’s lying, right?”

I snort. “I wish.”

Dead fury glares down at me. “You little lying bitch.” Fury washes over his features. The black of his pupils fade into the darkness of his irises. I can’t believe I thought he had sexy eyes at one time.

“I’m lying, huh? Sure. Check the police reports. Ask Detective Lafleur from the New Orleans police department how untrue all my blood on the kitchen floor was. Or how unreal my hospital stay was. Or better yet. Ask how many stitches it took to keep my insides from falling out.”

“They didn’t find anything on me and they never will.”

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