Page 66 of The Brutal Arrangement

He glowered at me, sinister and dark as ever.

“I’m not lying!”

Again, he didn’t react. He kept his cold stare steady on me, and I couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“I’m telling the truth. Go get my phone and look at the number. I was talking to the director of a care facility. The nursing home my mother is living in.” Heaving hot, quick breaths, I waited for him to say something.

For too long of a moment, he didn’t. In this silent stare-down, I saw how little he was convinced. He had it so set in his mind that I had to be lying that he couldn’t bend at all and consider that I might be telling the truth.

It was another strike on my heart. Just when I wanted to think that he could be sweet and genuinely caring about me, seeing me as someone he wanted to learn to like rather than a cunt to fuck, he had to show his true colors like this.

He didn’t care.

He didn’t have a shred of a beating heart to have compassion or sympathy.

Damon was the “Demon”.

He was a killer. A Mafia man who didn’t do hearts and flowers and sweet stuff.

I’d never learn. I was so sick of being lonely and never fitting in anyplace or with anyone that I’d been dumb enough to think a Mafia man like my husband couldcarefor me.

I couldn’t help a frustrated huff. Hysterical laughter would follow next. Without him releasing me, I lifted my hands to wipe the tears from my eyes and cheeks.

“I’m not lying, dammit.”

He moved now. Turning to shove me back onto the bed, he stood straight and crossed his arms. Like an overlord hawking over me, looming, he gave no hope for me to escape.

“This is the first time I’ve heard about your mother.”

I snorted a weak laugh as I settled on the bed. Sitting up seemed to require too much energy, but I didn’t want to slump. I had to face him and make sure he saw me with direct eye contact to know I was telling the truth—if he’d ever believe it.

“Sue me,” I retorted. “It’s not like we’ve had many meaningful conversations. You’ve made it clear from day one that I’m just here for you to fuck.”

“Don’t try to lie and complain.”

I shook my head, lacking the energy to fight on that point. “You never asked about my mother. You never asked me anything.”

“Because I was focused on getting you to heel. To understand who was in charge here.”

I wasn’t going there. I wouldn’t even know where to begin on deciphering that.

“It’s kind of hard to miss that dynamic.”

“Why were you calling this nursing home now?” he asked, not easing up at all.

“I didn’t. Well, I guess I did. But I was only calling them back.” I pointed at my phone. “I don’t even use it. It’s been powered off all this time. That’s how much I meant it when I said I’m not here to spy or lie or whatever else you Mafia people think I’ll do.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?”

I furrowed my brow, surprised that he wasn’t going to automatically accuse me of lying about using my phone.

“If you’re not here to spy or take secrets to others about anything in this building, why did you tell Katerina that you’d swap with her to be my bride?”

I rolled my eyes. “Secrets? What the hell would I even be able to tell anyone? You don’t tell me anything or let me see anyone or anything. I’m like a prisoner here.”

“Why did you swap with Katerina?” he asked again, clearly determined not to let me off the hook.

“For my mother.”

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