Page 14 of Ruthless Redemption

“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re no longer in a position to make me vulnerable.” She sidesteps to take her seat. If it weren’t for the way she quickly grabs for the glass of wine, I’d almost believe her confidence.

“And why is that?” I place my bowl on the opposite table setting and slide into my chair.

“Because my vulnerability has only ever been exposed by people I care about, and you’re no longer on that list.”

This time, my chuckle isn’t only fake—it’s forced. “You’ve switched from love to loathing in such a short space of time,amore mio.Are you doing okay with the whiplash?”

She gives me a viperous smile and takes another sip of wine. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m doing just fine.”

This isn’t the conversation I planned to have. The mood and tone are all wrong. Yet I can’t stop lapping up her venom. Each taste brings exhilaration.

My desire for her is already mutinous. Barely manageable. My palms sweat with the need to touch. I have to taste her. Breathe her in. Even with her vicious energy.

I incline my head and grab my fork. “Well, I appreciate you joining me.”

“Are you under the misconception I had a choice?” Her tone is friendly even though the question drips with resentment.

“There’s always a choice.”

She bats her lashes. “As much as I’m enjoying this display of truly deplorable acting, we both know you took away my power to decline your offer when you mentioned my ability to call Stella.”

I raise my brows and nod thoughtfully, spinning the tines of my fork into the spaghetti. “So I guess what you’re saying is that youarestill vulnerable to me.”

Her facade falters with the brief flare of her nostrils.

She concedes a pawn in this provoking game of chess.

I raise my fork and take a bite, filling my mouth to lessen my victory grin as our gazes remain locked.

She doesn’t eat though. She merely sits there, more than likely tweaking her mental strategy as she remains silent.

“I appreciate the eye contact,amore mio.” I grab my wine glass and take a sip. “I’m not sure how I could remain a gentleman with such an exquisite temptation seated before me if it weren’t for those hypnotic eyes.”

“Let’s not continue the sham that you’ve ever been a gentleman, Matthew. We both know you’re nothing but a monster.” She cocks her head and frowns. “Or should I saybutcher?”

I take another sip—slow, drawn, smooth.

I won’t hand over one of my chess pieces so easily. “Both are fitting. Although, I will argue that I’ve always been a gentleman to you.”

“No, you’ve always been a liar.”

“We both lied, Layla. We’re even in that regard.”

She scoffs and settles back into her chair, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, plumping them, attempting to use temptation to her advantage.

I don’t look. Not directly. I let those luscious mounds taunt my periphery, the tease of nipples making my mouth salivate as I fork another mouthful of food.

I chew and swallow. Chew and swallow. I allow the silence to wrap her in a false sense of security while she remains poised on her mantle of superiority.

She’s getting to me, though. With each poisonous retort, I fall victim to the brain fog of lust. I crave her capitulation. I need her to admit that she feels more for me than the animosity she’s portraying.

What we had can’t be extinguished by a few mistruths. Especially not when we were both duplicitous.

“I hope you’re not getting cold.” I fork more food and make a strategic surrender, lowering my gaze from those fathomless eyes to leisurely trek downward. I skate my attention from her lips to her collarbone, then farther to those perfectly ample breasts.

I can still taste the salt of her skin. Can still remember the deliriously soft texture.

She would moan whenever I sucked her nipples. She’d shudder.

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