Page 62 of Ruthless Redemption

“It’s not an act,la mia piccola sporcacciona.”

I stop myself from slamming the door behind me and continue to the bathroom to douse my face in cold water.

I hold my breath as I splash and splash, attempting to wash away his attention, but I’m already warmed by it.Heated. His affects sink under my skin. Delve into my lungs.

He promised to quit antagonizing me only to revert to yet another effective strategy—seduction.

Bastard.

I slump onto the lowered toilet seat, water dripping from my face onto my clothes while the scent of spices filters into the bathroom.

Cutlery clatters from the kitchen. Stella’s laughter echoes down the hall. The world keeps spinning while I slowly unravel on a goddamn toilet in a town I don’t even know the name of.

“Mom?” Stella calls out. “Are you coming for dinner? Hunter bought Chinese.”

“Yep.” I drag myself to my feet, pat my face with a towel, and suck in a deep breath.

“Mom?”

“I’m coming.” I meet Stella in the hall, her attention far too scrutinizing as we walk toward the living room.

“You okay?” she asks. “You look tired.”

“It’s nothing an early night won’t fix.” I craft a subdued smile while everyone takes a seat at the dining table and begins eating.

I don’t make eye contact with anyone.

Not Matthew, who sits to my left, or Keira, who’s in front of me on the other side of the table.

I focus on the takeout containers. I fork food onto my plate that I don’t have the stomach to consume. I stare at the wine glass someone left at my place setting and wonder how many seconds it would take to drain it clean.

The conversation is smooth around me. Keira, Sarah, and Decker talk to Bishop and Matthew as if they’re friends. They discuss the weather. The stock market. The damn NFL, for Christ’s sake. Hunter retains his usual air of ice-cold indifference.

To the untrained eye, everything is normal. There’s no hitch in conversation or pause of discomfort for Stella to latch onto. Not one hint to trigger her suspicion that the family surrounding her have disowned her mother.

They all play nice—the loved ones who divorced me and the man who betrayed me.

I should be grateful, but the agony builds beneath my sternum with every nibble of chow mein.

“Can we come back to this place sometime?” Stella asks. “I love it here, and I haven’t had a chance to look around.”

“You’re always welcome.” Matthew drapes his arm over the back of my chair. “In fact, we can make plans before you leave.” His eyes meet mine, taunting in their hunger. “What do you think,la mia piccola sporcacciona?”

Bishop clears his throat, the slightest laugh shaking through.

“She can’t miss any more school.” I hold Matthew’s gaze, ignoring the warmth in my belly, the flood of adrenaline in my veins.

“Then summer vacation sounds perfect. You can stay however long you like.” He stares me down, waiting for a rejection.

Nobody else speaks. All eyes are on us.

“Our work will be done by then.” I grab my napkin and dab at my mouth as I wink at my daughter. “But don’t worry, little fish. I’ll find us a sugar daddy with a bigger beach house.”

Stella snorts and rolls her eyes. “Gross, Mom.”

Matthew inches closer, making me tense as his lips brush the sensitive skin below my ear. “You know I can give you all the sugar you need.”

I ignore him. The words. The proximity. The contact.

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