“Anastasia,” Duke said, his voice harsher now.
“What did you tell your brother?” I asked. “He heard all of it. He’s smart enough to come to conclusions close enough to the truth.”
Something moved in Duke’s face. Surprise, maybe. He was likely expecting the breakdown now, the tears. But maybe not.
“He already knew,” he said after a pause. A long one.
I stared at him in shock. “He already knew?” I repeated.
Duke nodded. “Both he and my father knew.”
“From the start?” I clarified. “They both knew from the start that this wasn’t real? That I was a job for you?”
Duke flinched, and I knew he’d try to cage me in, to grab me. For once, I was quicker than him. Even in my grief, even with the whisky in me, I was quicker.
I put the chair between us and made it very clear I didn’t want him near me.
He glowered at the chair. Then at me.
“You were never a mission for me, and you know that,” he said slowly. “This has been real since the second you set foot on Hammond dirt.”
I tilted my head, trying to weigh that statement for truth and lies, but I didn’t know the difference between them anymore.
“Why did you make me pretend then?” I yelled. “Did you guys all have a good laugh over beers, knowing the truth?”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he clipped. “I told them because I needed them to be aware, to protect you when I wasn’t around. They’re the only people I trust with you.”
“No,” I said, quiet now. “No, that’s not it. You couldn’t lie to them about something like this. Maybe you could lie to your mother and grandmother because you had some warped idea that you were protecting them, even though your grandmother knew something was up from the beginning. But you weren’t doing it to have them protect me. You were doing it because you couldn’t lie to them. You were doing that because you hated me at the start of this, and you didn’t want your father to be ashamed of you thinking I was the woman you picked to bring home.”
“I didn’t hate you,” Duke said after another long fricking pause.
He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t even attempt to try to tell me I was wrong about the rest—because I wasn’t.
It seemed totally pointless to be having this argument in the midst of what I’d lost, but at the same time the anger was something more tangible to hold on to. A lifeboat in the middle of stormy seas.
It did make my emotions more powerful. That and the whisky.
Which was what had me darting to the French doors and sprinting out into the rain, barefoot.
Duke cursed behind me, and he was no doubt chasing me. He might’ve caught me any other time, with longer strides, more power behind them. But grief, heartbreak, and anger were a unique fuel, so I managed to run a long way before I stopped. Before Duke’s hand grasped my arm and yanked me to face him.
The rain had soaked us both, plastering his shirt to his body, rendering the white shirt I was wearing see-through.
“What the fuck, Anastasia?” he roared, yanking me into his chest.
He tried to, at least. I fought him this time. I fought him like a banshee, as if I was fighting for my life.
“Let me go!” I screamed, the wind and the rain stealing my voice away.
He didn’t let me go.
“Damn you!” he yelled.
“Damn you,” I yelled back. “Damn you for bringing me here. Why did you need to take this fucking job? Why did you have to bring me here? Why did you force me into a lie that I would eventually believe? Why would you make me fall in love with you? Is this a sick game for you? Punishment for being a bitch to you as I did my best to hide my reactions to you? I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you, Duke Hammond, and it’s been torture every moment since. So, congratulations.”
He was still now. He was holding me, his grip still viselike. But he was staring at me with something other than the frustration of before.
His chest was falling and rising rapidly, much like my own. The rain continued to pelt us, so we were both drenched. I barely noticed it under the heaviness of Duke’s gaze.
I waited for more fight from him. He gave me none. Instead, he let my arm go only so he could violently grab hold of my neck and kiss me.
I should’ve fought it. I should’ve known this was my absolute last point of escape. Anything after this would be forever and impossible to recover from.
But I didn’t stop.
I kissed him back with all my anger, all my fear, all my grief.