“That’s not all.” Jules’s voice shook so violently she sounded like a distorted version of herself.
My foreboding hardened into icy disbelief when she reached into her purse and retrieved three additional items.
My watch. My iPad. My rolled-up wad of emergency cash.
No.
She set them on the coffee table, the tremble in her hands matching the one in her voice.
No, no, no.
“Tell me you hunted down the thief and recovered those items.” I barely heard myself over the roar in my ears. “Tell me the burglar had a crisis of conscience and dropped those items on my porch when I was in the shower and you found them. Dammit, Jules, tell me something!”
Something other than the suspicion winding its way around my throat and choking off my air.
“I stole the items.” Jules’s confession hit me like a bullet in the chest. Pain pierced my flesh, making me flinch. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to do it. He was blackmailing me, and I didn’t know what else to do except go along with it, and I…”
Her rambled explanation faded as the roar grew louder. Her words ran together into a murky stream that painted the world in ugly grays and vicious reds.
She was the artist, and I was trapped in a surrealist nightmare of her making.
“Who?” I latched onto the last thing I remembered hearing.
My brain was sluggish, and it took more effort than usual to get the word out.
Jules wrapped her arms around her waist. “Max.”
Max. The guy I met at Hyacinth.
Liquid dark rage seeped through my veins and into my voice at the mention of that smug-faced fucker. “Start from the beginning.”
I listened, numb, as Jules explained everything more clearly this time—the jobs she pulled in Ohio, her relationship with Max, her sex tape, his blackmail, how she broke into my house and how she finally got rid of the video and recovered the painting.
When she finished, the ensuing silence was loud enough to deafen me.
“I’m sorry.” Jules swallowed. “I should’ve told you all this earlier, but I didn’t want to ruin what we had when we were just starting to get along. I wasn’t sure how you would react, and I thought…”
“You thought?”
“That if I told you about my past, it would confirm everything horrible you’d ever thought about me.” Her voice grew smaller with each word, like she was realizing how fucking stupid they were.
My rage pulsed harder. It leaked from my veins and spread into my chest, hollowing it out until nothing else remained.
Half of it was directed at Max for what he did to Jules.
The other half…
Breathe.
“I see.” No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t summon an ounce of warmth. My blood had iced into one solid, painful pool, and I was afraid any movement would crack it. Splinter it into a thousand icicles that would shred me open from the inside out. “So why are you telling me now?”
“I didn’t want to lie to you anymore. I never wanted to lie to you, but I...” Jules took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “I wanted us to have a fresh start. No more secrets or lies.”
“I see,” I repeated. The cold in my chest intensified. “I forgive you.”
She faltered, her face twisting with confusion at the contrast between my words and my chilly tone. “You do?”
“Yes.” I smiled. The movement felt strange, like I was contorting my mouth into a position it was no longer capable of. “Come here, Red.”
The nickname tasted bitter on my tongue.
After a moment’s hesitation, she stepped toward me.
Even with ashen skin and dark circles shadowing her eyes, she was the most beautiful, treacherous thing I’d ever seen.
I curled my hand around the back of her neck and rubbed a gentle thumb over her skin before I yanked her toward me and kissed her hard enough to draw a whimper of pain.
“That hurt?”
Jules shook her head, her muscles taut beneath my touch.
“Good.” I softened the kiss, soothing her lips with my tongue. “You shouldn’t have lied, Red,” I whispered. “You know I hate liars.”
I detected a soft tremble in her shoulders. “I know.”
“But you…” I dragged my mouth over the line of her jaw and down her neck. “You are so beautiful. So sweet beneath that prickly armor you wear. You know things about me no one else ever will.” I sank my teeth into the curve between her neck and shoulder. “How can I stay mad at you?”
Jules let out another whimper when my hand inched beneath her skirt and brushed over her pussy. For once, she wasn’t wet for me.
But we would change that.
I slipped my hand inside her underwear and caressed her until she flooded my fingers and her body melted into mine.
My movements were cold. Mechanical. I’d done them a million times, and I watched her mouth part in little moaning gasps with apathy.
My cock strained against my zipper, hard and angry. It was a physical reaction more than anything else, but it was the only part of me that still felt alive.
Jules was teetering on the edge of orgasm when I yanked my hand away.
“Get on your fucking knees.”
She jerked at my harsh tone, but after a second’s hesitation, she slowly sank to her knees without argument.