“You, Kat. You were taken from me. One day we’re in love, about to run away and start our lives, and the next, you’re telling me you feel nothing for me, that it was all a lie and what we shared wasn’t mutual? My sanity, my peace of mind, my faith in humanity, it all died when you shut me out.”
“It was my only choice. I did it to protect you, Heath.”
“Well, Kat, I can protect my fucking self. And I sure as hell could have protected you better than your pathetic husband or your piece of shit brother.”
Why does she still have a pull on me? Why can’t I shake her off like I do everything else? I told myself that buying the land was about Henry, to finally bring him to his knees. To show the pompous ass that the poor, white trash kid from the Bronx could outsmart him and outbuy him despite all his connections and his pedigree. Money might get you far, but you can’t buy magnetism. In the end, if I’m honest, everything I did was for her. To make her see me as worthy so she’d want me again.
“I never believed you were unworthy,” Kat whispers. She casts her eyes down to the sand beneath her bare feet. She has the nerve to look contrite.
She loses her footing and falls to her knees when I push her away from me. Her touch is like poison seeping into my skin. My fingers circle her soft, delicate throat, and I squeeze.
“You ruined me, Kat. You cursed me to damnation. You killed all the benevolence inside me and left an empty husk. All the discrimination, the betrayal, the beatings, all the bullshit Henry and his minions put me through here, was nothing compared to the brutal pain you lodged deep in my heart.”
Kat’s hands grip mine, her nails digging into my flesh. She’s hoping I’ll loosen my hold because of the pain she’s inflicting, but I welcome it. I’ll take anything she’d be willing to give me, still a dog begging for scraps at her feet.
She was my world, and all I was to her was the charity case her father took in. The pathetic boy from the wrong side of the tracks that she used to slum with before she settled where she belonged, with the upper crust of society.
Her creamy skin turns a light shade of blue as she tries to grasp a breath. “I could kill you, Kat, squeeze a little more and end you.” I push her down on the ground, flexing my fingers. “But damn you, because killing you would be killing myself. I don’t want to live in a world without you in it. You’ve bewitched me, Katelyn Shaw. Ruined me. You’ve destroyed me, but I still can’t bear the idea of hurting you.”
“How did I destroy you? Seems like life’s been good to you, kinder than it’s been to me.”
I grip the lapel of my Italian leather jacket. “You think this is the meaning of life? Money? Material things?”
Shock flashes in her eyes as she looks up at me, “No, of course not. You know I’m not like that.”
My head falls back as I stare at the star-lit sky and laugh. “How would I know that, Kat, since the last choice you made was wealth over love, status over connection, them over me? Remember how you said you didn’t love me, never had? How you were provided for, and all I could give you was a roach-ridden run-down apartment in the Bronx.”
“I-I was young and scared.”
I fall to my knees in front of her, move in until my nose is pressed against hers, fist her hair and yank her head back. She winces. and I shove the pang of guilt aside.
“Yeah, so was I, Kat. So was I. Eighteen, alone, and I’d just woken up and told myself that the life I’d planned my future around was a joke. When you fuckin’ dumped me like trash, you took everything from me. Now, I’m back, and I’m going to take everything from you. You and those entitled assholes you surround yourself with. You’re mine, Kat, forever mine. That hasn’t changed. I realized you were right. Money is all people like you know, and if it’s money you need to tie us together, then so be it.”
“You don’t need that, Heath. I don’t need any of that.”
My fingers tangle in her hair, wrapping her soft tresses around my hand as I yank her head back again and peer down at her. “I do because money is what will get me the only thing I’ve ever wanted.”
“What do you want?” she asks me, eyes wide, lips barely moving.
“You.”
I crash my lips to hers, and they part for me. The kiss is violent. It’s not loving or sweet but an inferno of need and desperation. It’s five years of misery and a past so turbulent that I’m shocked we both haven’t died a million deaths from its gravity.