Page 91 of SINS & Riley
I know what I have to do.
Even if it destroys me.
28
ZVER
“You want her… gone?”
Dominic stares at me like he’s watching the last fraction of my sanity crack and fall away.
Maybe it has.
Or maybe he’s just late to the party. I’ve been high on the hog of my own madness for years. Trust me, the table’s always set.
The problem is, I’ve let Riley get too close. Close enough that if she stays, we both suffer.
Not that I’m a stranger to suffering.
My sister was beaten and left for dead. My father vanished without a trace six years ago. And out of sheer desperation, I faked my own death just to get closer to my fuck-cluster of an uncle.
And then there’s Riley. My own custom-tailored hell. If she sticks around, my dick won’t survive the week.
Death by starvation.
So, yeah. Pain and I are more than acquaintances.
It fucks me up the ass on the regular.
I drag my gaze to the window, to the wash of blue-gray sky that feels as hollow as my soul. “I’ve made arrangements.”
In the reflection, I see Dominic’s brow climb sky-high. Definitely news to him.
I don’t usually go rogue. Because when I do, it’s reckless, impulsive, and always blows up six more dominos on the way down.
“You made arrangements?” He cuts the words apart, dissecting them, before following with, “When?”
His skepticism is a blade at my throat. He’s stitching the timeline together. Measuring my every move against the pile of horseshit he refuses to swallow.
Last night, he saw me before I went to Riley’s room.
I'm pretty sure he caught on surveillance that I spent the night. It was platonic as shit, for whatever that’s worth.
And now it’s six a.m., and here we are.
So when did I make arrangements? I checked my phone. “About half an hour ago.”
His face tightens. It’s the same grimace he always wears when he knows he won’t like what’s coming, but can’t stop the runaway train. “Am I part of these arrangements, or are you planning to keep me in the dark until you’re screaming for a fire extinguisher to put out the dumpster fire?”
A fair enough question. One he won't like the answer to.
“The arrangements are set. I’ve worked with Sabine. Riley has one hour to leave.”
“An hour?” He checks his watch, disbelief etched into every line of his face. He lets out a sharp breath. “You spend one night with a girl and now you can’t get rid of her fast enough? What’s the rush?”
He’s angry, and probably mistaking my decision for apathy. If only he knew how far from the truth that is.
He can think what he wants. I don’t give him more than four words. “It couldn’t be helped.”
