Page 103 of Seeking Vengeance

No, otherwise I would’ve fled long ago.

I step back, only to be kept close by the cage of Matthew’s hands.

He strengthens his hold on my waist, firmly imprisoning me. “Don’t walk out on me,amore mio. Give me time to explain.”

“Stop calling me that.” I push him away and stumble backward, bumping into the sofa, almost falling into the cushions before I can right myself to stagger farther.

He has no idea what he’s done.

Being with him—an enemy—will singlehandedly destroy the already tattered relationship I have with my family.

They’ll never forgive me for this.

“Why?” He stares at me through harsh hooded lashes, each bat of his eyes slaying me. “Youaremy love. My past doesn’t change that.”

“Your past changes everything,” I whisper as madness overwhelms me. The questions. The stupidity. The shame.

How could I have made more mistakes? Created more complications for my brother? More and more mess that continues to compile, stealing the air from my lungs? And yet through the gasps for respite, some sickeningly, stupid part of me latches onto the tiniest glimmer of hope in his story—he got out.

He left the underworld.

He created a new life.

I walk on numb feet to the window, my gaze seeking the calm of the ocean. But the deep blue doesn’t soothe me. My mind is in chaos. The sharp claws of panic shred the inside of my skull.

“I have more to tell you,” he murmurs. “So much more. I want you to know everything. I want—”

“Why?” I beg, mostly of myself. “Why me? Why now? Why any of this?”

How could he make me fall in love with him when we can never be together?

How cruel can fate be?

“We’re alike.” He slowly rises to his feet, seeming even more handsome and commanding now that I have to walk away. “We have common enemies. We’ve contemplated similar crimes.”

I frown.

“The cyanide,” he clarifies. “Were you really going to use it?”

I snap my attention back to the ocean, wishing I hadn’t made the confession. Realizing he could easily use the information against me. Against my family.

“Could you have killed someone, Layla?”

I keep my mouth shut. My lips fused.

He approaches, sidestepping the edge of the sofa in my periphery.

“Stop.” I turn to face him, glaring. This is serious. I need to rewind time and remember all the things I’ve told him. All the clues I’ve given. All the insight I’ve shared. “Stay where you are.”

His face falls. Plummets. And in the split-second of this powerful man’s pained rejection, I see myself reflected in him.

I see the woman forsaken for the mistakes of her past. I see the person turned pariah due to circumstances out of their control.

“Just…” I attempt to shake my head free from the emotional onslaught. “Just give me a second.”

I need to think. To understand. To do damage control.

“Layla, you’re bleeding.” His attention narrows on my hip, his expression transforming from devastation to concern. He strides forward, forcing me to scamper backward. “Don’t fight me on this,” he warns with an edge of malice. “Let me make sure you’re okay. You mean so much to me. I—”

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