Page 18 of The Vengeance You Crave
A growl of disapproval rumbles at the back of his throat before he clicks his tongue.
"You were showing those boys a good time tonight, huh?" he mutters.
Unable to even look at him as he judges me, I turn my head to the side and stare into the darkness, wishing like hell that it would swallow me up.
Why did it have to be like this?
The lump in my throat is so large, it's hard to even breathe as he continues studying me.
"Tell me…" he starts, making my stomach sink for what's going to come next. "Did you make a lot of tips tonight?"
I don't answer him. I don't even look at him. Too mortified by the knowledge of just how much I made from merely showing off a little too much skin.
Not happy with my lack of response, Luca shoves his hand into the pocket of my hoodie, correctly guessing where I stashed the cash.
"Fucking hell," he gasps when he pulls the wad of bills out. "What did you do tonight, you filthy slut?" he growls, leaning in and whispering in my ear.
"N-nothing."
"Bullshit," he spits, moving closer still. We're not touching but the heat of his skin burns. It makes me tingle with my need for him to actually touch me. To know if it's still as electric as it was back then.
When he does finally connect with me, it's not at all in the way I'd hoped, or longed for, after all these years.
I swallow down the whimper that wants to erupt when his hot fingers wrap around my throat.
They squeeze lightly in warning, making my eyes burn with red hot tears.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,I scream internally, knowing full well that what happened between us was what created—or at least contributed to—the angry, vicious, dark boy who's standing before me. He was always there, hiding under the surface. Whenever someone pissed him off—mainly his dad—he would emerge. But only ever behind closed doors, and only ever alone or with me or Leon. His safe places.
What the rest of the world saw when shit hit the fan was an entirely different person to the one I knew. He was ashamed of the place he went when he was really angry, and I knew why, even without him ever telling me.
It made him like his father.
His temper, his ability to lash out. It was just like Brett Dunn, and Luca hated it.
I got it. His dad was a douchebag of epic proportions. I just always wished he found a way to deal with it instead of hiding and taking it out on those he loved. Me, Lee, his mom.
It makes me wonder if anyone else has been there for him over the past five years with me gone.
My heart aches considering that there might be a woman out there right now who understands this side of him. Who helps him through it much like I used to.
"Don't act like a stupid little girl, Peyton. We both know you're not. And, we both know exactly what happens in there to earn this kind of money. So… What. Did. You. Do?"
"N-nothing," I repeat.
"Who touched you?"
"N-no one." It's not entirely true. Slick did get a little handsy after the fourth bottle of whisky was delivered to their table, but he didn't touch me like I'm sure Luca is thinking right now.
He shakes his head at me, disappointment rolling off him in waves.
"So, all this money just to look, huh? They must really think you're something special."
"I-I'm nothing, Luc. I just… I just give them what they want."
"Trust me. If you didn't let them touch you, if you didn't touch them, I can assure you that you got nowhere fucking close to giving them what they wanted."
I swallow down my response because we both know any argument I might have would be a lie.
