Page 64 of Reckoning

He narrows his eyes. “I told you to stay away from her.”

“And I told you that the decision was hers to make.” I retort.

He looks like he’s going to punch me. I guess I can’t blame him for that.

“Come in, have a drink, you can see for yourself that she’s okay when she wakes up.”

He grunts, following me inside, strutting along. Though he’s only been here a number of times, it’s clear he remembers the way through to the kitchen.

I follow after him as if this is his house and not mine, and I tell the maids to shove it. Whatever this conversation is, we don’t need witnesses and I don’t want them to gossip, for Sofia to overhear anything she shouldn’t and all my carefully laid plans be ruined.

While I put some coffee and toast on he surveys the room like he’s expecting it to be littered in torn underwear, as if I brought Sofia back here and spent the entire night fucking her on every surface.

Does it ease his conscience when he finds no such evidence? I don’t think I care either way.

I played a careful game last night, letting Sofia believe she had a choice, easing her in, ensuring she picked me. If she’d said she wanted to go home then I would have taken her. But I wouldn’t have left. No, our souls are intwined, twisted. From now on, she is mine, I just have to be careful with ensuring she comes to understand that fact. She’s flighty, scared, understandably so considering what Otto did to her, but I won’t let her past come between us. No, instead I plan on using it, on manipulating her trauma so that she chooses me, so that she always chooses me.

I place a mug in front of him and we both lean against opposite counters, facing off.

I can see the anger in his face but underneath I can see the concern too and part of me gets it. It’s his little sister, if he wasn’t overprotective of her, he’d have to be some sort of psychopath.

He sips his coffee, frowning, clearly trying to formulate some sort of plan to navigate this.

The toast pops behind me and, though neither of us jump, the noise seems to enhance the silence hanging between us. I grab the slices, sticking them on a plate and put them on the breakfast bar. I’ve no idea how long we might be sat here, glaring at one another but I sure as shit am not going to stay hungry.

“I told you to stay away.” Roman states, like he’s a broken record.

I narrow my eyes, putting my own cup of coffee down. “Sofia is her own person. And I said before, you can’t stop me from protecting her.”

He grunts back and though I shouldn’t say it, shouldn’t twist the knife, my give-a-shit level is too low to care. “It’s not like you haven’t needed that protection, Roman.”

“What did you say?” He half-snarls.

“You heard. Whatever you say, you know you can trust me, you know she’s safe with me. That’s why I’m the one you call when the shit hits the fan.”

“You have men.” He replies dismissively. “Don’t overthink it.”

“And here I was, thinking we were partners.” I mutter.

He narrows his eyes and I see that flash of anger. “In business maybe, but my sister is not a part of that. Sofia is separate.”

“Yes, she is.” I snap. “She’s her own person, she makes her own decisions, and you should respect that.”

“She’s not in a good state of mind right now. If anything, last night proves it.”

“Why?”

He frowns at my question like it makes no sense.

“Why does it prove it?” I repeat.

“She’s not thinking straight, she’s not thinking logically.” He argues.

“Because she decided to do something rather than simply remain a recluse?”

His eyes widen. “Don’t twist this, don’t…”

“What?” I snap. “You got your revenge, Roman. You took your time ensuring everyone that screwed you and your wife over paid very dearly for it.”

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