Page 28 of Inside the Sun

"Riiiight," Martin says, pulling a face. "Stop trying to turn your dating history into some romantic idealistic fairy tale, Sun. You’re more basic than you think."

My jaw tightens. I’m getting pissed.

He leans in. "You know what guys like Anzo live for? Resistance. The more you push back, the more he wants you. And you think you’re running this game? Be careful. You don’t even know what the game is."

He turns to walk away, but I grab his arm.

"Don’t psychoanalyze me, Martin. You don’t know shit about me."

He yanks his arm free.

"Oh, please. Everyone says that. Everyone’s got some tragic, soul-crushing backstory to explain all the stupid shit they do. I’ve heard it all before."

I freeze, staring at him.

"What? Am I wrong? Some asshole probably broke your heart, and now you’ve decided this is your whole identity. You’re miserable, because you won’t let yourselfnotbe. It’s easier to cling to your sorrowful past than actuallyheal. That way, you’re not just a regular guy. You’re the tragic hero of your own drama. And that’s more interesting than just… moving on."

I can’t believe he said that. His bitterness just exploded all over me.

"Wow. Fucking wow. You really nailed me, huh? You think you’ve got it all figured out, genius? Playing some relationship role model handing out deep life advice. Please. But it's you who wanted to dateme! You're just looking for a pretty face and a nice ass, so you're not that deep in the end."

Martin’s lips twitch contemptuously.

"Gosh, you are such a disappointment, Sun."

"And you are boring!"

His face tightens.

"Fine. At least I won’t leave the kind of scars he will. Good luck, Sun. Don’t call me crying later when he slices up that pretty face and widens your smile with a switchblade."

He turns and walks off toward the exit.

What the fuck just happened? Why did it all blow up like that, why the drama, the personal jabs? I didn’t like it one bit. Maybe he did hit a nerve, something real deep down, but I don’t care. Things are the way they are. I can’t change it. Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I don’t know how.

My emotions are yanking me in all directions as I turn and head for the main exit. I need to call an Uber and get out of here.

I came here with Martin, but there’s no way in hell I’m leaving with him. That asshole pushed me way too far.

Frowning, I pass through the archway, decked out with colorful flowers and small balloons like it’s a fucking birthday party, and step out onto the parking lot.

No one’s around. I cross the lot and stop at the curb. It’s a commercial district. The hotel’s surrounded by a hedge, and beyond it I can see some decorative little groves. No buildings in sight. I have to leave the parking lot and get to the street to catch an Uber.

I pull out my phone.

Then—

Footsteps behind me.

I turn around.

Two tall alphas in suits are walking toward me. Instantly, something feels off. They’re both wearing sunglasses. FBI? Maybe. But more likely… mafia muscle.

One of them says, "Come with us. Mr. Ferro is expecting you."

"Excuse me? But I’m not expecting Mr. Ferro."

That’s when the vibe gets bad. I turn to walk away, but their hands clamp down on my elbows.

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