Page 18 of Ruthless Redemption

The chill escapes me, the coldness eviscerated by white-hot rage. I shove to my feet, the chair scraping loudly behind me, the stupid fucking tie acting like a pendulum between my breasts. “I’m done with your delusions.”

I’m about to storm for the bedroom when he reaches for his cell, subtly tapping the device with his pointer finger

“Are you sure?” He looks up at me. No smirk. No anger. Just pure confidence in those chocolate eyes.

Fuck him.

He knows it’s been days since I spoke to Stella. I have no idea what Cole has told her. I don’t know where she is. Or if she’s protected. I’ve had to rely on the assumption that my brother continues to cherish her safety even though he’s discarded mine so easily.

“There’s no going back from what you’ve done.” I stand tall, trying hard to remain confident with my nudity while his tie begins to feel like a noose. “You arranged for me to be mugged. Then had the audacity to sleep with me. And that was just the tip of your duplicity.”

“You’re wrong.” He sits straighter. “I didn’t sleep with you that day. I deliberately kept sex off the table even though, if memory serves, you begged for me to fuck you. Instead, I gave pleasure and tortured myself in return.”

After everything he’s done, he still has the nerve to claimhewas the one being tortured?

I want to hurt him.Killhim.

“Every moment we spent together was a well concocted fallacy.” I push the words through clenched teeth. “You acted surprised when I told you about the cyanide—”

“Iwassurprised. Not that you had it. But that you owned up—”

“You lied and pretended and conned,” I speak over him. “You deceived and distorted. You were sly and cunning and cruel.”

“Because I adore you,” he states simply. “And you began to feel the same about me. I gave us a chance at being together and had every intention of telling you the truth. In my own way. In my own time. If it weren’t for Remy—”

I slam my fists on the table, rattling the bowls and cutlery. “Remy’s appearance changed nothing. Hisexistencewas the problem. Hisgenetics. The fact he’s yourgoddamn brotherand was involved in my husband’s murder.” I scream at him, my face hot, my blood boiling. “You made me worship a fictional character. I loved a man that was make believe.”

He pushes from his seat, poised and confident. “And I’ll make sure you feel the same about the real me.”

My heart skips a beat. I’m not sure if it’s in fear or frustration. Rage or resentment. But the tempo in my chest pauses a moment only to kick back at a manic pace.

I suck in a slow breath, begging my pulse to calm, my lunacy to ease. “It doesn’t matter what personality you present. I won’t stop hating you. And once I finally figure out my next move—after you did such a fantastic job of ruining my life—I hope to God I never see you again. Do you understand me?”

His lips thin. His shoulders stiffen. Everything about his expression is tight, especially the skin over the faint swelling on his cheek from my brother’s attack.

Could I have finally gotten to him?

“Now I expect you to make good on your promise and let me call my daughter.”

He’s silent, the quiet palpable until he reclaims his seat with equal poise and confidence as when he left it. He grabs his wine glass, takes a lazy, taunting sip, then raises his condescending gaze to mine. “If you expect me to make good on my promise, you need to make good on yours. The deal was that we would eat together. You’ve barely lifted your fork.”

Fucking bastard.

I’ll lift my damn fork. I’ll stab it right through his motherfucking jugular.

He doesn’t care if I eat. All he wants is power.Control.

“I’m not hungry.” I enunciate each word in a slow, drawn out growl.

“And I don’t give a shit.” He matches my tone, his mood shifting to menace. “Sit. Eat. Or you don’t get a fucking phone call.” He leans forward, roughly discarding his jacket to throw the heavy material across the table at me. “And the next time you think it’s a good idea to parade around naked, be aware I won’t restrain myself. Iwillfuck you,amore mio. And youwillenjoy it.”

6

LAYLA

I force myself to eat,taking dainty bite after dainty bite until most of my meal is gone.

I don’t speak a word. I don’t make eye contact.

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