Page 79 of Lovely Deceit

There’s no way I’m getting blood on everything in my car, so I start walking as the chill in the air numbs my skin. The shirt I pulled on is now stained. Cars pass, and whether they’re Knights or civilians, no one bothers to stop. As I get closer, my adrenaline starts pumping, and the crimson spots widen until there is more blood on my shirt than colored fabric.

The gate is closed when I get there, and I press the button that goes God knows where.

“State your name and business.”

The man who answers has a British accent, but it isn’t Oliver. “This is Leonardo Jarvis. I’ve come here to speak to Eden.”

“One moment.”

One moment turns into several long minutes. I’m about to press the button again when the gate starts to swing open. I push past it when there’s enough room for me to slip by, then I run up to the main door, heaving it open.

“Sir,” a servant calls out when I enter, taking me in from head to toe.

Immediately, I hear Eden, Alaric, and Oliver arguing, so I shove past the man with silver hair and walk toward a room to the right. When I enter, the room quiets. Eden moves into view, her blue eyes shining bright with defiance. “What do you want, Leo?” Her gaze starts to track south, but she immediately locks it on my face again.

“How did you do it?” I ask. “You said you were the reason I had to go through that. How did you do it?”

“At the engagement party,” she relays. “After you fucked me against the bookcase, I cleaned myself up and found Vincent.”

My heart careens in my chest. A day that I’d looked forward to. I’d wanted to show her that I could treat her right, and all along, she was playing me. To say I’m surprised is an understatement. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him I wanted to take you down. I wanted you to know how it feels when no one comes for you. When no one helps you. I hope you felt a sliver of the fear I felt that day at the Knights’ castle.”

My jaw slams shut as I wrestle with what to say next. “What you just did to me was nothing, Eden, apart from one thing. Everyone else in the world can cut me, can try to bring me down, but none of it hurt. Not until you.”

She lifts her chin in the air, but the tick in her jaw makes her next words a lie. “Good.”

My heart pounds out a pain-filled rhythm. I don’t want her to be like that—trying to be strong above everything else. I want her to be happy, not searching for any reason to bring others down and make them feel as low as she does. So I go on, “That hurt worse than my grandfather tying me up last night in my childhood home, staging it just like it was when I found my father dead on the floor. The blood. The rope. Maybe I should thank you for that because he finally came out and admitted that my father didn’t kill himself. He killed him.”

This, she wobbles even more at. She shifts from foot to foot, but I can tell she’s arguing with herself, not wanting to give away any ground she might have gained on me.

I whip my shirt off, revealing the blood smeared all over my chest and torso, and drop it on the ground. Oliver rolls his eyes, but I don’t care about his expensive rugs adorning this great room. All I care about is the girl inside it. “Was this enough for you? Did you want to see more? More cuts? More pounds of flesh?” I search out the deep cut on my bicep and pull the slit open. Fresh, bright red blood starts dripping down my arm.

“Jesus, the carpet!” Oliver exclaims.

Ignoring him, I watch as Eden studies my wounds. Her jaw works as her gaze traverses every inch of my skin. “It depends. Was it enough for you?”

Her question takes me aback. I stare at her, trying to figure out the riddle she’s just given me.

“Did you learn anything?” she bites out. “About what’s important. About what you really want. All I saw in there was a guy who pledged loyalty to a group that then went and scarred his entire body.”

I march forward, stopping just a couple feet in front of her. “You think I give a fuck about the Knights? The only thing I care about is this fucking girl in front of me who can’t fucking stand me. How’s that for your revenge?”

This doesn’t soften her fully either, and I keep wracking my brain trying to find something. Oliver and Alaric stand by as impassive observers, waiting for Eden to make the call. There has to be something I can say or do because the thought of losing her pains me more than anything else. I wasn’t lying about that.

“I deserved it, okay? I’m sorry,” I grind out. “Truly fucking sorry that in your worst moment, I didn’t do anything. No excuses. Period. And I won’t do it again. I can promise you that.”

Her face starts to contort. It begins with lips thinning, and then it lowers and lowers until she’s frowning, tears dotting the corners of her eyes.

I fall to my knees, hissing as the sensitive skin shifts and stretches, but I charge forward like always. “Eden, I’m fucking sorry. I’m not a good guy. I’ve never pretended to be. I’ll fuck up. I’ll piss you off. I’ll probably make you want to send me through that Pound of Flesh ceremony again and again, but I’ll fucking try. For you.”

On my knees, here, surrounded by two men and Eden, I don’t feel the sense that I’m losing ground or that I’m lesser. Bowing to someone doesn’t always make you weak. Submitting to someone doesn’t always mean you’re a coward. I’m starting to get that now.

I’m not ashamed. I don’t fear humiliation from the two men in the room or worry that the woman will think I’m less of a man.

I have to reverse everything I’ve been taught since I was a little kid.

“I’m at your mercy…” I finally say, and those might be the truest words I’ve ever spoken.

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