But I’d only be fooling myself.
He’s a criminal. A thug. A degenerate. He makes a living off of breaking and defying the law. He’s the exact opposite of everything I’ve ever stood for and believed in.
He’s literally what’s wrong with this world.
And he has no reason to admit his sin. Not when he’s skated through his entire life without any consequences.
When men like my father, good men, try to stop men like him, they usually end up in a body bag…
He pulls back a little, a mixture of surprise and hurt on his face. “You don’t believe me.”
Why would I believe him?
“I have never lied to you,” he growls.
When I don’t respond, he leans closer to my face. “I would never hurt you like that.”
On the verge of bursting into tears now, I try to knock his hand away. “If not you, then who? Your boss? Lucifer? Or one of the other men? Was it Simon? Andrew? Johnathan? Or maybe it was Gabriel and that’s why you got him released from prison?”
With each name I say, James looks like I just punched him in the gut.
And it only makes want to cry even more.
Cry, scream, and punish him.
“Or maybe my father was in the wrong place, at the wrong time! He was just… collateral damage!”
I shove at his chest and he takes one stumbling step back before he grabs me. Grabs me and tries to pull me into him. “No. It wasn’t us, Sophia. I swear it wasn’t us.”
“Then who?!” I screech and shove at him again.
“I don’t know yet,” he says, sounding almost sad as he tugs me back.
Still not believing him, I lash out, slapping him across the face.
The sound of my hand connecting with his cheek resonates through the bedroom as a loud crack.
And his head whips back either from surprise or the force I put behind it.
Panting with emotion, I glare at him as he slowly turns his face back to look at me. I see the deadly glint in his eyes, but it doesn’t affect me.
I’m too worked up to be afraid now.
Not satisfied with the flush of red spreading across his cheek and wanting to hurt him more, wanting to hurt him as much as I hurt, I raise my stinging hand, ready to slap him again.
“But when I do, I’m going to make them fucking pay,” he growls and grabs my hand out of the air in mid-slap, tugging me to him.
Crushing me in a hug, his arms lock tight around me, so tight I can barely move.
I try to squirm free, but the more I fight, the more his hold tightens around me.
“They’ll pay. Their family and future generations will pay,” he grunts while keeping me caged in his arms.
Unable to break free, no matter hard I try, I give up and collapse against him.
Crushed by both the constriction and his threat.
“Hell will feel like a fucking vacation when I’m done with them,” he declares so vehemently, goosebumps break out across my flesh.
His breath puffs against the top of my head, followed by a tender brush of his lips. “I promise, love, I won’t let them get away with this. I’ll get them all, even if it kills me.”
His promise cuts right through to my soul, completely shattering me and challenging everything I’ve ever believed in.
To say this wasn’t what I envisioned going down when I decided to confront him about my father’s death would be an understatement.
I expected him to deny it, of course. Perhaps even try to slyly convince me there wasn’t any way he could have been involved.
Not crush me in a hug and promise retribution.
It feels like my world has suddenly been turned upside down.
I’m so… disturbed, so damn unnerved by his promise and the way things have turned, I tip my head back and peer up at him.
There’s this strange light in his eyes. An almost diabolical light, like he’s thinking about what he’s planning to do and how much he’s going to enjoy it.
“Why?”
Why would he do that?
What does he get out of it?
It’s not like we’re family or even friends.
His jaw tightens and he grits his teeth, making the expression on his face even more frightening. “Because they hurt you.”
Breath quickening, his answer causes both fear and excitement to flood through me. A mix of emotions I’ve never felt before I met him, but one I keep experiencing whenever I’m in his presence.
I seriously don’t know what’s wrong with me. Finding any joy in that…
Maybe he’s not the only one who’s sick.
Shaking my head, I try to keep my mind clear so I can stay focused on the issue. “So what? Why do you care?”
His eyes grow darker, becoming downright sinister.
“Because you’re mine,” he declares, the word ringing in my ears.
Then he adds, his voice almost cracking, “My baby.”