“What are you doing? I am not for sale.” Aster’s voice was aghast. Horrified and filled with disgust.
“He’s bluffing, Aster.” Jarek tossed in the chip.
It was the first time I let myself fully look at her. To sit back and take her in like she wasmine to take. Sickened terror ridged her gorgeous face because I was pretty sure she knew this wasn’t close to a bluff.
I couldn’t do anything but crack a grin. “It seems you are tonight.”
Then I laid down my cards.
A straight flush.
TWO
ASTER
“You bastard.”The accusation flew from my mouth.
Horror that sliced through the pressure-addled air. Through the bitterness that had poisoned the oxygen.
Toxic.
Lethal.
So malignant I thought I would suffocate.
How could he even suggest it? He had no idea what he was doing. How dangerous this was. What was riding on the line.
Logan Lawson merely cocked his head to the side. Vile arrogance lapped from him on waves, the man a stake impaled directly into my mangled heart.
Seeing him had nearly done me in. Dropped me to my knees. But I had to stand strong.
“You can’t do this, Logan.” My voice was anguished. “I am not an asset. Not a plaything to be bought or sold.”
Such a lie. I’d been a possession since the day I was born. Paraded by my father like merchandise.
Logan smirked back like he was enjoying my outrage. Feeding off my pain.
He wanted to hurt me, and it killed me that he did.
What did I expect? Something different than his hatred? It wasn’t as if I could wipe the memory of the last time I’d seen him seven years ago. It wasn’t like I could forget what had been written in his expression.
I’d crushed him.
Devastated him.
Almost as much as I’d devastated myself.
Now he watched me with this hollowed-out disdain that made my skin crawl.
Like death had come to smother him, but the only thing it’d managed to rob him of was his soul.
Because his body was alive. Bristling with strength. Tall. So tall. The man built of sinewy, bristling muscle. Fierce but trim. A viper who would strike.
Perfect beneath his designer suit. Every chiseled angle of his unforgettable face was ethereal, but there was no mistaking the demon lying underneath.
He wore his beard short and trimmed, his dark, dark hair short but long enough on top that it appeared carelessly mussed.
And his eyes—they were the deepest green set in a thousand, intricate layers. Swirled in blacks and golds and old forgotten dreams that he was supposed to have shared with me.