Page 24 of Twisted Love

RAVEN

Istand frozen at the top of the stairs, my feet rooted to the cold wooden floor. My pulse is pounding in my ears as I stare down at the mess below. Scattered across the entryway are shards of glass that glitter under the light from the chandeliers like broken stars. Amongst them, gorgeous, blood-red roses lay dying.

And over it all, like avenging God, he stands.

His chest heaving, his fists clenched at his sides. His face is a mask of fury, his eyes like embers that burn right through me when they lock onto mine. My heart stutters, an involuntary rush of fear coursing through me. I’ve seen him angry before, but this … this is different.

I grip the banister to steady myself. I don’t dare move, my mind racing to make sense of the scene below. Why would he destroy those beautiful roses?

“Is something wrong?” I call down, my voice thin, tentative.

He doesn’t answer immediately, his jaw working as he glares up at me. The silence stretches. Then, without a word, he begins closing the distance between us, each step slow and deliberate. His anger fills the space between us, making it hard to breathe.

By the time he reaches me, my nerves are shot to pieces, though I force myself to stand my ground. He stops just a step away, his height and intensity overwhelming me.

“Follow me,” he says, his voice low and cold.

I hesitate, searching his face for a hint of something—anything—that might explain what’s happening. But all I see is black, barely controlled fury. Reluctantly, I trail behind him when he turns and heads down the hall toward the library.

The library is quiet, the heavy wooden door silent as I shut it behind me. He strides to the window, and with his back to me, he stares out over the estate. The lake glistens in the fading sunlight, and the orchard beyond it is bathed in the soft golden glow of the setting sun. It’s breathtakingly serene, a stark contrast to the storm raging in this room.

I hover near the door, unsure what to do, what to say. The silence is unbearable, stretching out like a taut wire ready to snap.

“Earl?” I venture cautiously. “What’s wrong? Did something happen? Did the roses … fall?”

He turns then, slowly, and the look in his eyes makes my stomach twist. There’s no softness there, no trace of the man a part of me still swears I know. His gaze is piercing, and it pins me in place.

“Did you leave them out there for me to see?” he asks, his tone venomous. “Were you trying to send a message?”

I blink, confused. “What? What are you talking about?” I stop, shaking my head. “I don’t understand. Why would I do that?”

His eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer, the tension between us crackling like a live wire. “Don’t play dumb, Raven. Was this some kind of stunt? Something to irritate me?”

I feel the blood drain from my face, the accusation cutting deeper than I thought possible. “Irritate you? Earl, I have no idea what you’re talking about!” My voice rises, tinged with desperation. “Those roses—I didn’t send them!”

“You didn’t send them?” he interrupts, his laugh bitter, humorless. “Do you take me for a fool, Raven? I never took you for a liar.”

I take a step back, my hands trembling. “I’m not lying,” I whisper, my throat tight. “Why would I lie about this?”

His gaze bores into me, searching for something I can’t give him. His mistrust is crushing and it leaves me gasping for air.

“I can’t take it anymore. “Earl,” I say, my voice breaking, “just tell me what’s going on. Please.”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair as he looks away, his jaw tight. “They’re from Charles,” he mutters finally, the name like poison on his tongue. “He sent them to you. Are you really trying to tell me that you’re unaware? That you weren’t expecting them? That you didn’t see the card? That you’re not still talking to him?”

I’m taken aback by his accusations, his relentless questions that jab at me like daggers. My nails bite into my palms as I struggle to maintain some semblance of composure. “No to all of them, Earl.”

His frown deepens, his jaw tightening until I can see the pulse tick furiously at his temple. “Are you playing with me?” he snaps, his voice sharp and cutting.

I shake my head. “I don’t know who the hell would think of sending me roses when I’m already—” My words falter, catching in my throat like a shard of glass.

His face twists, a bitter smirk curling at his lips as he cuts in. “What?” he sneers. “Married to me? Has commitment ever stopped you before? From doing whatever you want?”

I can’t respond. My mouth opens, but no sound escapes. His words hit harder than I expected, slicing through any defenses I thought I had left. The man who once made me feel like I was the only girl in the world now stands before me and every syllable he utters makes me feel smaller and smaller, as if I could disappear under the weight of his disdain.

“I … I need to leave,” I say, my voice barely audible. I turn on my heel, heading for the door, my heart pounding in my chest. Tears threaten to spill over, but I will myself to hold them back. I won’t cry in front of him. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’m not finished with you. Don’t you dare take another step,” he says, his voice cold and commanding.

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