Page 33 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
Chapter Fourteen
Anthony
Of all the scenarios I expected to see when I came home, Iris in Byron Fucking Pearce’s arms never crossed my mind. The sight of their embrace guts me.
Because I know, deep inside my heart, that Byron is the better choice for her.
There’s no blood on his hands. His family loves him. Everyone adores him. He has a great reputation. He’s a star—a brilliant, beautiful star. And in a million ways, he deserves Iris more than me. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be the better man and give her up.
Over my dead body.
“Tony,” Iris says, pulling away from Byron. “I didn’t realize it was already time for lunch.” She glances at the clock.
“Blackwood,” Byron says curtly.
“Pearce.” I look at his hands on Iris’s arms meaningfully. If she weren’t here, I would be breaking them. But, inexplicably, she’s fond of him.
He doesn’t drop them. Iris subtly moves away, which is the only reason I haven’t turned his face into hamburger.
“I haven’t had lunch yet,” he says to Iris.
“Then—”
“You aren’t invited,” I say.
Iris gapes at me, probably thinking what a rude bastard I am. I care about what she thinks of me, but not enough to feed the son of a bitch. If he were on fire, I’d pour oil over him.
“Get out,” I say.
“I’ll talk to you later, Rizzy,” he says. “And I’ll definitely look into it for you.”
When frogs and monkeys have butt sex with each other, I think at the same time Iris waves and says, “Thanks.”
I push him out of my place, not touching him but crowding and herding him until he’s on the other side of the door. He sneers. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You. Trespassing. My home. My woman.”
He tilts his chin arrogantly. “Your home, fine. But your woman? Don’t flatter yourself.”
I clench a fist, wishing Iris were just a tiny bit less fond of this son of a bitch. It’d be my pleasure to break his jaw. But that isn’t the only way to bring him down. “My previous business dealings with Milton were exactly that—just business. But things can become very personal, very fast, and you won’t like it if they do.”
I slam the door in his face.
* * *
Iris
I almost jump when the door slams. I stare as Tony returns to the living room. I didn’t catch what he was saying to Byron, but from the murderous gleam in his eyes, I can guess. And there’s the hard lines of his shoulders and arms, the clenching of his hands, body language similar to when he attacked Jamie Thornton. I’m glad Tony didn’t break Byron’s nose…or anything else.
“What’s that about?” I ask, purposely making my voice light.
“Him. Being here. With his hands on you.”
It should sound petty and ridiculous. But the look on his face is pure torture. He’s like a man tormented by some irrepressible demon, egging him to feel angry, to feel like he has to compete with Byron for me.
“He’s just a friend,” I say quietly.
“Right.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, then stops when he notices the roses and chocolate on the coffee table. “Did Byron bring those?”
