Page 42 of Ruthless Truths

I want to tell her yes, but I saw the flicker of desire in her eyes when she realized what I was doing to Abel. It may have been brief, but the thrill of the torture he was about to endure triggered something inside her.

“While you did make me realize we need better security where the stairs are concerned, I’ll leave that choice up to you,” I say before grabbing my phone from my pocket. “I’m ordering dinner. Are you hungry?”

Her tongue darts out, unconsciously wetting her lips as she stares at me with a hunger I yearn to satiate. Leaning further back against the couch, she brushes her hair away, her eyes locked on mine as she says, “Famished.”

Fucking hell.

I was trying to do the right thing by her in the shower earlier, but if she continues to beckon me with her eyes, practically pleading with me to fuck her, I won’t be able to hold back. At least, not with everything.

When she’s ready for everything, she’ll have to use her words. Not just actions.

19

OLIVIA

Sweat drips down my temples, my chest heaves, and my legs burn with an intensity I’m certain I’ve never felt. Yet, I can’t stop running. The pain brings me a relief I didn’t expect when Justine dragged my ass down to the gym a few days ago.

She said I was a little too tense and should exert some energy. If only she knew how right she was.

After the shower and proceeding conversation with Luca about whatever is going on between us, he’s buckled down with work…or whatever it’s called when mafia kings do mafia-like stuff, and I’ve rarely seen him in the last four days.

Worse, he hasn’t touched me. Not even a passing brush in the moments we’re in the same room. I’m not sure what to think, but I do know that running on this treadmill has shown me that exercise isn’t as evil as I previously assumed.

Though, the rising tension that continues to throb at my core has hardly eased. The only things I’ve been able to get under control with a few trips to the gym are my thoughts.

When I’m running, I don’t overthink the craziness of everything that’s happened in the last few weeks. I consider the facts and accept that there is nothing I can do to change what’s happened, but what I can do is prepare myself for what’s to come.

I don’t get lost in the treadmill the whole time, though. I also spend a decent portion of my newfound gym time with the weights and punching bag, learning how to use my body as a weapon so that nobody can ever use it against me again.

That brings me more solace and motivation than anything else ever could.

Knowing Abel is dead has relieved me of the nightmares, but I know he’s not the only person to wish me harm. Letting my guard down isn’t an option. Pretending everything is going to go back to normal one day after all I’ve seen is a fairytale that I won’t allow myself to live in.

Justine’s hand slams down on the red button in front of me. “Time for your beating.” Her sinister smile frightened me the first time, but it hasn’t taken me long to match her thrill.

We don’t actually beat on each other, but that doesn’t mean we don’t feel the impact when one of us pounds on the bag and the other is holding it or when we use the punching gloves and hand mitts to practice our right hooks.

She’s already wearing the gloves, meaning it’s my turn to put the mitts on. As soon as I lift my protected palms into the air, she strikes, and it takes every bit of strength to keep my legs from stumbling back.

Justine doesn’t let up, either. She throws hit after hit, punching until her arms are shaking and sweat trickles down her chest. “I think I’m done for the day, but I can hold the punching bag for you if you want.”

I shake my head, reaching for my water bottle. “I got enough punching in before the treadmill. I’m going to go shower and then have dinner.”

She uses a towel to wipe her face, then frowns. “I’d join you, but I have plans with Jaxon tonight.”

Oh, how I envy her.

“It’s all good,” I assure her. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Have enough fun for the both of us.” My tone is teasing, but on the inside, I’m already wondering if we’re at the point in our friendship that I could ask her to get me a toy that would at least ease the ache deep inside me.

She laughs and nudges my shoulder. “I bet Jax wouldn’t mind if you came home with me.”

“I’m not that desperate,” I chuckle, adding, “Yet.”

Our laughter fills the gym as we exit and head toward the elevator. “Luca will come…around soon,” she jokes. “Maybe just stop getting dressed for the day.”

It’s an idea that immediately has merit, but I dismiss it just as quickly. I won’t show him that he has power over me to make me desperate for his touch. No, at this point, I’ll go upstairs and take care of my own needs with my hand, something I should have done days ago. I’d held off after the trauma of what happened at the nightclub and needing time to process.

I thought it would take longer, but with my nightmares gone, my sexual appetite doesn’t seem to understand the word no.

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