Page 46 of His Hell Girl

He continues to one-sidedly kiss my lips until he finally realizes the futility of it.

"Damn it, Sisi," he curses, letting me go.

Bringing the back of my hand to my mouth, I wipe him from my lips, my eyes on his so he can see the disgust in my expression.

"After everything you've done to me," I start, anger, sadness and frustration mingling together and rising to the surface, "you have the gall to take me frommywedding, threaten me to sign my Goddamn name on a fucking piece of paper," I'm breathing harshly, "that by the way doesn't meananythingto me," my lip curls up in distaste, "and now you want me to just kiss you? As if the last three months didn't happen? As if you didn't crush my heart and leave me bleeding–literally and figuratively?"

He flinches, reacting to my words for the first time. But I can't stop. Not anymore. Tears of frustration threaten to make their way to the surface as I continue to speak.

"Youdestroyedme, Vlad. You have absolutely no right to strut back into my life as if nothing happened. Pretend nothing happened. And then expectmeto behave like nothing happened. What the hell is wrong with you?" I scream at him, my entire body shaking.

"After everything I went through… you have no right," I tell him, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

I don't want to break down in front of him, no matter how mad he might make me. I don't ever want to show him my weakness, or the fact thatheis my weakness.

He doesn't even reply. He just watches me, his expression closed off.

Not able to bear another moment in his presence, I make to leave.

"You were pregnant," he finally speaks, his words renewing my pain.

Were…

"Yes," I answer, willing my voice not to betray me. Of all the things he could have brought up, he had to go there. Is that why he's back in my life? To ask about the baby? Maybe offer some insincere apology?

But why would he even care?

"Was it mine?" he asks, his question shocking me to my core. I whip my head around, my eyes coming into contact with his.

And God… he really thinks…

Something breaks within me when I realize that in his mind I'd simply hop from one bed to another. Does he really think that little of my love?

But he does.

Laughter threatens to spill over as it dawns on me.

Unwanted… of course I'd fuck anyone for attention. Isn't that what he's been implying from the beginning?

My fists clench, and I have this sudden urge to hurt him—even though I doubt he'll care. I just want to wipe the grin off of his face once and for all. If I can't hurt his feelings, then I can at least hurt his pride.

So I answer his question.

"I don't know," I lie, holding my expression in check. I could have easily said no, but then he could have called my bluff. No, this should dig deeper into his ego and make him wonder just how long after him did I turn to another.

There's the slightest reaction in the way his jaw clenches, his eye twitching as he turns his deadly gaze on me.

"Did you fuck him?" The words are brusque, violence dripping from them as he takes a step toward me.

I don't back down. I raise my chin up, my eyes bravely meeting his as I show him that he doesn't scare me.

"Why do you care?" I throw the question out, trying to seem as nonchalant as I can.

"Did. You. Fuck. Him?" He grits his teeth, his body already crowding mine as he pushes me toward the wall.

"No," I answer, maintaining eye contact, enjoying the way relief floods his features before I continue, wanting to twist him up inside and make him hurt like I did, "I made love to him. Not that you would know what that means."

I give him a brilliant smile, playing his game. Leaning forward to whisper in his ear, I add, "He worshiped my body and made sweet love to me. He showed me it doesn't have to hurt. And when it does, it hurts good."

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