Page 23 of Brutal Crown
“What do youreallywant? The real reason.”
For the first time since I met him, he seems to struggle with his words. “I don’t know. I just… needed to see you.”
His voice sounds so sincere, it almost makes me laugh. Of course he did. Needed to see how ruined I was. Couldn’t let me lick my wounds in peace.
“Well, you’ve seen me. Now leave.”
“It’s not… Fuck!” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, looking at the ceiling. After a few beats, he looks at me, his eyes glazed over. “You think this is easy for me?”
“Hurting me? Publicly humiliating me? Yeah, I do.”
He clenches his jaw and takes a step closer. I take one back.
“I can’t stop thinking about you. I have a fucking fiancée, and I can’t stop thinking about you!”
His confession punches the breath out of me. He sounds so broken and tortured, I almost feel bad for him.
“That’s a choice,” I say flatly.
His eyes flash. “You think I chose this? You think Iwantto want you?”
His face is flushed, his eyes darker than usual. It reminds me of that night, except the difference is, I know he’s not drunk.
“You chose to come here, to ‘see me,’ when you could have just stayed with your fiancée,” I spit out, the words bitter on my lips. “Just like you chose to do what you did tonight.”
“I have no excuse for my actions, but I’m not a free man.” His eyes are bloodshot, like he’s bleeding. “Far from it.”
“Neither am I. Guess whose fault that is?”
He sucks in a breath, clenches his jaw, and sighs. Then he starts walking toward me again.
“You’re acting like you’re so perfect, like you haven’t hurt me too,” he says lowly, dangerously.
I keep moving back until I hit the wall behind me.
“But you were in my brother’s room earlier this evening.”
The accusation in his tone makes me bristle.
“Oh. That’s why you called me a whore—because your brother is nice to me.” I take a threatening step toward him, furious and fearless now. “Because he treats me like a human being and doesn’t look at me like I’m filthy. Somehow that’s my fault? I’m the problem?” My voice shakes in the end, giving away the pain I feel.
“I’m sorry.”
Silence stretches between us at his words. I never expected him to apologize. Now he has, and I don’t know what to feel about it.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Rosalia.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?”
I don’t have an answer. How can I tell him that hearing my name from his lips makes me weak? Because when he says my name, it makes me feel like I belong to him.
“You’ve won,” I whisper. “You humiliated me, broke me. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Something cracks in his expression. His voice drops as he takes another step closer until he’s standing directly in front of me. Until I can feel the heat emanating from his body.
“Is that really what you think of me?”
