It Destroys Me (Betrayal #6)

6. Astrid

Chapter 6

Astrid

It was midnight, but I was still awake.

My sleeping patterns had changed since moving in with Theo. He was usually home late, so I found myself staying awake in the hope I would see him. Sometimes he woke me up in the middle of the night in the most delectable ways, but other times, it wasn’t until I was awake the following morning that I saw him.

It was hard not to text him to ask when he would be home. He said it didn’t bother him, but I didn’t want to start bothering him. We felt closer now, our attachment deeper than the flesh, and the last thing I wanted to do was make another mistake like I had when I’d invited myself to his bed. What we had felt special, and I would die if I lost it.

My phone lit up on the nightstand, his name on the screen.

I grabbed it and read the message .

On my way home, sweetheart.

His message was just five words, but I read it multiple times like it was so much more. I’d had to restrain myself from texting him, but in the end, he gave me what I wanted anyway. Before I could think clearly, I texted back. Can’t wait to see you.

His three dots didn’t pop up.

My mind and heart soared in the clouds. As if I hadn’t seen him last night or the night before, I was excited. Excited like it was our first date. The first time we would sleep together. He made me so nervous…his stare, his presence, his natural intimidation…and I’d become addicted to it.

I got out of bed and opened the drawer of my dresser until I found the stuff I’d picked out with Scarlett. Lacy black lingerie that she insisted every man loved. I hesitated as I felt the satin in my fingertips, unsure if I could pull it off the way his favorite whores probably did. But then I ignored all the doubt and insecurity and put it on. I didn’t know how close he was to home, so when I went into the bathroom, I brushed my hair and added some mascara to make my lashes look thicker. Then I got back into bed, my heart racing, and waited.

Ten minutes later, the door opened, and a mountain of shadow entered the room. He was just in his boxers as he approached the bed, his skin and muscle his armor, his ink his scars. He pulled back the sheets to get into bed beside me, but he hesitated when he spotted me in my crotchless bodysuit, my tits pushed up so high they looked several cup sizes bigger. He continued his stare, his hungry eyes roaming over my body like he’d never seen it before.

Guess Scarlett was right.

His knees sank into the mattress when he moved onto the sheets. His body came over mine, and he immediately adjusted me underneath him, folding me, bending my knees, getting me into the position he wanted to fuck me in. Didn’t even kiss me. Just got straight to the point, and I liked that.

He knew the lingerie was crotchless without checking, and he slicked his head before he pushed himself inside me, forcing himself without any gentlemanly patience. He just took what he wanted like I didn’t matter, and I also liked that.

When I felt him plow into me, I released a gasp, my nails sinking deep into his flesh, his muscles hard as rocks. It had been just a moment ago when he’d laid eyes on me, and within the snap of a finger, he was at full mast and hard as steel…for me.

He could have anyone else, but he wanted me.

It was the kind of fuck that knocked the headboard into the wall and made a mark. It was the kind that his butler probably heard two floors below. The kind that would make me come and make me sore. The kind that made me feel like a woman he spotted across the bar and had to have .

The kind that made me feel secure for the first time in a long time.

I was in my bedroom when he texted me. I’m taking you to dinner. Be ready in an hour.

As always, I read his message several times because I was always shocked by the things he said. With another guy, I wouldn’t appreciate being bossed around like that, but Theo was different.

He could boss me around all he wanted.

I put on a black dress with another piece of lingerie underneath, a push-up bra with a matching thong. Since the bodysuit had worked so well, I decided to deploy the tactic again. I made my eyes smoky and applied my favorite lip gloss before I headed downstairs.

He picked me up outside then drove several blocks until he handed his Range Rover over to the valet. When he got me out of the car, he immediately grabbed my hand and took me inside. He normally circled my waist with his arm, so holding my hand like this was a first.

I liked it because it felt more intimate. An arm around the waist said this is my woman . But holding hands meant she’s mine…and I’m hers .

He barely checked in with the host before he was given a table farther in the restaurant. Hand in hand, he took me to the table and pulled out the chair for me like he was a gentleman and not the caveman who’d nearly broken the headboard last night. He pushed in the chair to catch my ass then dropped into the chair across from me.

A waitress was there right away, and before she could say a couple words, he cut her off. “We’ll take a bottle of red. Something from Barsetti Vineyards.” He didn’t look at her as he gave the order, just pushed up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows like he was warm on a cold spring night.

She walked away without saying a word.

Once she was gone, I felt my heart beat again. Felt it drum in my chest as the nerves got to me. His appearance was burned into my memory, so it wasn’t like I could ever forget how sexy this man was. But every time I looked at him, I was shocked by it. The jawline. The eyes. The confidence. God, it was all too much.

He ignored the menu and stared at me. A stare that had teeth and ate me alive. It was smoldering and possessive but also intense. He looked like he could either compliment me or scream at me.

I broke contact when it became too much and grabbed the menu.

He continued to stare at me.

Bolton used to look at me in a similar way, but nothing compared to this. He was a spark compared to Theo’s inferno. The longer I was with Theo, the more my marriage felt like a strange dream.

“What are you going to get?” I asked, trying to break the tension, even though I never wanted it to break.

He didn’t answer.

I continued to look at the menu, settled on the risotto, and then placed my menu aside.

He was exactly where I left him, still as a statue with eyes that could see into the underworld.

The waitress returned with our wine and asked what he wanted.

When he didn’t reach for the menu or look flustered, I asked, “Are you ready?”

He turned to the waitress. “I’ll take a steak. Medium rare.”

“Do you want potatoes or rice?” she asked.

“Surprise me.”

She seemed put off by his coldness because she didn’t smile. She took my order then walked away.

He broke his stare and took a drink of wine.

I did the same, needing the booze to take the edge off. My muscles were so tight they might split in half. If he already wanted me this much over dinner, then he would be really pleased by the outfit I wore underneath. “How was your day? ”

“It was fine. Yours?”

“I sold a painting. A big one.”

“Big in size or big in price?”

“Both.”

He gave a slight nod. “Have you considered painting again?”

Of course he brought that up. Like always. “Honestly, life has been pretty hectic.”

“I can have your supplies placed in your room.”

“You—you still have everything?”

His eyes locked on mine once again, the way people appreciated a full moon or a falling star. “Yes.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t throw them away.”

“I would never throw away art.”

My eyes softened when I wished they wouldn’t. I didn’t want to accept praise I didn’t deserve. I didn’t want him to treasure something that wasn’t worth being treasured. But now I knew his words weren’t just words, because he had kept it. “You’re too much.”

He continued to watch me.

“You could have any woman you want, but you’re here with me. I don’t get it. ”

“I do.” He said it with the same confidence in his eyes that he always possessed. His sincerity rang with truth. It wasn’t a line to get me into bed because he already had me in his bed. He’d become the bulletproof vest that protected me from the weapons of my enemies.

“That’s sweet of you to say.” He’d been my provider and my protector since the moment I laid eyes on him. He changed my tire in the rain. My phone was dead, so I couldn’t call Bolton even if I wanted. When I turned my back on Theo and my world went to shit, he broke down the door and came to my rescue. His affection for me almost felt…unconditional. I would never feel good enough for him.

He continued his hard stare, continued to burn holes into my face with the sharpness of his gaze. Looked at me like he hadn’t already looked at me a hundred times. And then his eyes flicked away, and the connection was severed like a knife through a taut string. “There’s something I need to say to you.”

Our moment was so heated and intense, and then it just evaporated. Changed within the blink of an eye. It’d been so overwhelming that I could barely withstand it, and now I missed it with every fiber of my being.

Because I knew whatever he was about to say wouldn’t be good. “I’m listening.”

He continued his stare, slowly crossing his big arms over his chest. His eyes were down for a second before they found mine again. “I don’t want kids.” A heavy pause followed, his eyes watching mine for a reaction.

I didn’t know how to react to that. I hadn’t thought about the destination of this relationship because the ride had just begun. Tomorrow might be my last day. Tonight might be Theo’s.

When I didn’t say anything, he continued on. “He wasted your time and your youth. I don’t want to do the same.”

My eyes narrowed on his face. “It’s not the same at all.”

“I just want to be honest with you. You deserve all the information up front so you can make the best decisions for yourself.”

The last week had been a fairy tale. An intense, erotic fairy tale. And now it was starting to slip away. “I appreciate your honesty, Theo. I know I never have to doubt your integrity.” For a man who made a living as a criminal, he was morally superior to everyone else. “Can I ask why you feel that way?”

He stared at me across the table, arms still crossed over his chest.

I wasn’t sure if that was a quiet brush-off or a pause.

“I simply have no desire.”

I gave a quiet nod in understanding. “I think that’s pretty common for a bachelor. And the circumstances of your marriage didn’t permit you to consider a long-term future. Most people don’t want to have kids just to have them. It usually happens when they’re with someone for a long time, and they think about things differently. So, I think it’s reasonable for you to feel that way.”

His dark eyes were like rocks, inanimate and lifeless, impossible to read. “But you know you want children.”

“Well, I didn’t feel that way until after I was married. At least a year into it.”

“But he’s gone, and you still want them.”

“I don’t want them right this second,” I said. “But I know I’ll feel that way again once I get settled with someone…preferably you.” I was tired of hiding my heart underneath my clothes. I wanted to wear it on my sleeve, let him watch it beat and bleed.

He had no reaction to my honesty.

“I’m just saying it’s reasonable that you feel that way.” I’d never met a man who was enthusiastic about children. Some said they were open to it, but they weren’t leading the charge with a torch in hand. Theo wasn’t that different in that regard.

“Sweetheart.” He said the endearment with a different tone than usual. “There’s a high probability that I’m not going to feel differently about it, regardless of what happens between us.”

I meet the man of my dreams—and of course he has a flaw. A big-ass flaw I couldn’t ignore. “But you’re open to feeling differently about it.”

He hadn’t moved since the conversation began. Hadn’t even blinked. “You know who I am. You know what I do. Do I look like the father type to you?”

I stared.

He stared back.

“I’m the Skull King, sweetheart. I push drugs on the streets and across borders. I kill anyone who gets in my way. My body count is bigger than the notches on my belt. I can’t see myself dropping my kid off at school in the morning after doing deals throughout the night. I don’t want to lose you, but I care too much for you to lie to keep you.”

How did he break my heart and make it melt at the same time?

“Make the decision that’s best for you. Because there are an infinite number of guys out there who would be happy to give you what I can’t.”

“I don’t want anyone else.” I let the words out when I shouldn’t. Let my heart beat on my sleeve. Put cards on the table when there wasn’t a pot to win. I just did it because…I couldn’t hide it anymore. “Theo…” There were no words for the depth of my emotion, nothing that could describe how much he meant to me without using the specific words that would scare him away. “I don’t care what our future looks like, as long as I’m with you.” I could live without kids, but I couldn’t live without him. Maybe I would love someone else someday, but it would never compare to the way I felt for Theo. This was the man who put his life on the line for mine, always put me before himself, who looked me in the eye and told me the truth, even when it hurt. “I’m willing to consider not having children…if you’re willing to consider having them.”

His eyes remained on mine like he was listening to me even when I stopped speaking. Unlike most men who seemed only somewhat interested in conversation, he was always present, always attentive, even in his silence. He didn’t add a lot to the conversation, but he made his enthusiasm known in that dark stare. “That’s fair.”

I wanted to inhale a deep breath in relief, but I bottled it inside. We’d moved past the trying stage and into the serious stage without even realizing it, because there would be no need to talk about kids if there wasn’t a chance it would go somewhere. Theo didn’t share his feelings directly, but he showed them by having this conversation with me.

The waitress arrived at the table with our entrees. She placed each dish in front of us, coming right at the end of a tense conversation. She refilled our glasses then walked away.

I didn’t have an appetite when we arrived, and I didn’t have one now. I was nervous and relieved at the same time. It was the first time I felt secure with him, like this relationship was more than just a trial run, like he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

He dropped his linen across his lap then cut into his steak, elbows on the table, hungry like a bear.

I watched him for a while.

He stared at me as he chewed, never uncomfortable by my scrutiny.

I grabbed my fork and dragged it through the risotto.

He ate in silence, watching me as I watched him, not filling the silence with unnecessary conversation. Like he was comfortable enough just to be there with me.

Just the way I was comfortable with him.

When we entered his bedroom, he took off his clothes like he felt suffocated by them. Whenever he was home, he never wore a shirt, only wore sweatpants when he visited the rest of the house, even if it was in the middle of winter. He seemed more comfortable in his bare skin, like he was in a constant state of summer.

I unzipped my dress and let it slide off my body, revealing the bra and thong underneath. My back was to him, but I somehow felt his stare, felt it right on my ass. I lifted my ankle to slip off one heel then the other, still feeling his presence, hot as the sun .

He came up behind me, his dark chest hitting my back as his arm hooked around me. His head dipped, and his mouth was on my shoulder and neck, kissing and tasting the skin, his arm squeezing me like I was trying to get away. His hand slipped underneath my bra, gripped one of my tits, and squeezed it.

My head tilted back into him, and I let him have me, my hand gripping his big forearm, feeling his hard dick in my lower back. His other hand moved to my thong and pulled it over my ass to make it come free before his fingers pressed into my clit and rubbed in a circular motion.

I released a quiet gasp when I felt his touch, my nails digging into his forearm as his hand continued to grope my tit. He was aggressive in his touch, like he wanted to make me come before we even got to the bed.

I almost did—but then he pulled his hand away.

He scooped me up from behind like I weighed nothing and adjusted me in his arms before he dropped me on the bed. He grabbed my hips and dragged me to the edge before he gripped the backs of my thighs and spread me apart.

Then he guided his monster cock to my entrance and pulled me down over him, clutching me by the hips until most of his dick was sheathed in my slickness. Once he was fully buried, he paused to release a quiet moan, a low growl like it was the first time he’d had me. He adjusted his footing at the edge of the bed and pushed himself a little farther inside me. When I winced, he stopped. “I’ll be a gentleman tonight, sweetheart.” He kept my thighs pinned back as he thrust inside me, keeping a fast pace that never went too deep, stopping just before he did too much damage. “But just tonight.”

It was the deepness of his voice, his choice of words, the size of his dick—all of it made me come, holding on to his wrists for dear life. The tears burned before they released, and once they streaked down my cheeks, they took my makeup for the ride. I felt them drip down my cheeks as he fucked me faster. As his dick hardened and my climax burst his ego. I didn’t realize my iron grip until I let go and left marks behind.

He never cared if I scratched him or made him bleed. Probably didn’t even notice the damage. The fair skin between his black ink had turned a blotchy red, patches of redness across his chest and stomach. The veins in his neck were distinct, like rivers on a map. He gripped me harder as he prepared himself to finish, careful not to push his dick farther than my body preferred.

But I was his woman, and I wanted him to have all of me.

I reached for his hips and tugged, pulling him deeper than he’d been before.

The look on his face, the smolder mixed with the arrogant smirk, was so damn sexy. “If you want it, sweetheart…” He gave me all of himself as his hand went to my neck and squeezed, squeezed me like a possession rather than a person, like a whore rather than his woman. He plowed hi mself fully inside me and got off on my moans and whimpers as he finished, treating me as harshly as I asked him to.

He pumped his seed inside me with his final thrusts, his hand digging into my hair next because his previous grip hadn’t been enough. Instead of his dick softening to half-mast, it remained rock-hard inside me like he’d never fired the load in the barrel. “Can you take another?” He was already rocking gently, giving me a sample of his size after pounding the entire thing.

I would never say no to this man, not when a million women would happily take my place and cry tears of pain and joy all night long. “Yes.”

I jerked up from the bed, my eyes snapping wide open and seeing the darkness in front of me. I gasped for air like I’d been held underwater for five minutes and my lungs were about to burst. Sweat coated my forehead and the small of my back.

“Sweetheart.” He sat up behind me and placed his hand on my arm. “Just a bad dream…” He sounded wide awake, like he hadn’t slept at all. His arm circled my stomach, and he started to pull me to him.

My back hit his chest, but I continued to breathe like the danger hadn’t passed. I was stuck in the house that used to be a home, Bolton sitting in the armchair and looking at me with his threatening gaze. When I looked in the mirror, my face was gone…because he ripped it off. It was just blood and open pockets of flesh. I couldn’t shake the image from my mind, whether I opened my eyes or clenched them shut.

Theo pressed a kiss to my shoulder and neck when I didn’t calm down. “It’s not real.” He kissed me again. “This is real.”

I threw off the blankets because I was soaked in sweat. I couldn’t get enough air, even though the cool air came through the vents. My fingers went to my face and felt my soft cheeks, feeling them intact. My eyes were still there, my lips.

“You can talk about it…if you want.”

I stared at my hands in the dark, seeing they were clean of blood. “No.” I didn’t want the nightmare to become reality by speaking it into the world. I didn’t want to repeat it, to burden Theo with my fears.

Sometimes it was easy to get lost in this new life. Waiting for Theo to come home late at night. Having breakfast with him in the morning. Going out to dinner, sometimes with his friends Axel and Scarlett. We talked about the future like we had a chance.

It made me forget what I was running from.

Made me forget that my ex-husband had punched me in the face, thrown me against the wall, made me do things I didn’t want to do .

But he was still out there, and until he was dead, I would never know peace.

Just the peaceful moments that came in between the chaos.

Theo dipped his head and kissed my shoulder again. “Go back to sleep.” He guided me down, guided me back to the bed and the soft pillow that waited for me. He’d been on the other side of the bed when I woke up, but now, he was right beside me, his arm across my stomach.

I looked at the shadows on the high ceiling before I turned my head to look at him beside me. “You weren’t asleep.”

“No. I’m usually out at this time of night.”

“You don’t have to stay in bed with me.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I like watching you sleep.”

“You watch me sleep?”

His eyes flicked back and forth between mine. “Sometimes.” He continued to watch me, his eyes on my face the way they had been over dinner, like the same face he’d seen so many times was somehow still intriguing.

“Theo…when are you going to kill him?” I didn’t need to tell him who my nightmare was about. There was nothing else in my life that would make me jump out of bed like that. Nothing else that haunted me like a monster in a horror film.

His expression didn’t change, but his eyes somehow looked different. They hardened in both anger and sympathy. “I’m close.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s taken a while to figure out where he is. But now I have a lead, a solid one.”

“Where do you think he is?”

“Rome,” he said. “I’ll take some of my guys and put an end to it. But that means I’ll have to leave you, and that makes me uncomfortable. I don’t think it’s a double cross to draw me away from you, but I’m not arrogant enough to assume anything.”

“He has a couple properties around Europe, but none of them are in Rome.”

All he did was stare, like he knew something I didn’t.

“What?”

His eyes shifted back and forth before they hardened. “I tortured one of his guys. Suggested he might be with Carson, and that’s where she lives.”

Carson—the woman he was texting. “Oh…”

He continued to study my reaction.

“Then maybe he’s moved on?” I asked hopefully. “Maybe he’s busy with her now and we don’t need to worry about him anymore.”

When his look didn’t change, I knew that wasn’t the case .

“You aren’t telling me something.”

“You don’t need all the details,” he said. “But no, he hasn’t moved on.”

“Have—have you spoken to him?”

“I told you, this is my problem?—”

“But you can’t bury my head in the sand. You can’t exclude me from a problem that directly involves me. What did he say?”

He gave a quiet sigh before he rolled onto his back. “The situation hasn’t changed. That’s all that matters.”

I’d grabbed on to the fleeting moment of hope, and just when I got my fingers around it, it vanished. “Let me get this straight.” I sat up in bed. “He’s shacked up with his side chick, the same side chick he had when we were married, but he still demands I be his wife? How the fuck did I marry a psychopath and not realize it?” When he’d told me he was a hit man, I should have seen the red flag and booked it. But I fell in love and looked past it, like a dumbass.

Theo sat up and leaned against the headboard, the sheets to his waist.

“Please kill him.” I’d never wished death on anyone, but I wished it now. Wished it on the person I’d vowed to love for the rest of my life. The very person who’d choked me until I blacked out and left me on the kitchen floor.

“I will, sweetheart.”

I wanted to be free of him. Not just to be with Theo, but to move on with my life without looking over my shoulder. Whenever I was at the gallery, I expected Bolton to burst inside and drag me home.

“But I might have to kill her too,” he said. “How do you feel about that?”

“Why would you have to kill her?”

“If she loves him, I doubt she’s going to stand by and do nothing. They’ll have guns in the house. If she takes a shot, I’m shooting her first.” He continued to look at me. “Is that okay with you?”

“Why are you asking my permission?”

“I don’t hurt women. Never hurt a woman in my life. The last thing I want is for you to look at me differently.”

“She’s an innocent person who doesn’t deserve to die. Having an affair with a married man isn’t a legal crime, just a moral one. But if she really tries to kill you, then you won’t have a choice.”

I’d just had the guys place the painting in the back of the moving truck outside. One of my clients had bought another vacation house, and he needed something special to go over the mantel in the sitting room. He bought it without seeing it in person because the picture on my phone was enough to make him fall in love with it.

I returned to my desk and texted him. She’s on the delivery truck. Will be there in a couple hours.

He replied right away. Thanks, Astrid. He sent a thumbs-up emoji.

I made a fifteen percent commission off my paintings, so a €50,000 painting like the one I’d just sold netted me about seven thousand euros. Sometimes I felt guilty taking the commission when my sales tactic was not to have a sales tactic. If they wanted to buy the painting, they would. I didn’t feel right manipulating them into the purchase. Or flirting with the male clients just so they would try to impress me. That was a tip my old coworker had given me, but I’d never taken her advice.

I definitely wouldn’t take her advice now, not when I had Theo. Not when I had the man of my dreams in my bed every night. Not when he was the best thing that ever happened to me. I wouldn’t squander that for any commission, no matter how big it was.

My phone started to ring. It was a blocked call.

It wasn’t unusual to get calls from blocked numbers because some of my clients were really wealthy and really paranoid. I took the call. “This is Astrid.”

Silence.

“Hello? ”

“It’s nice to hear your voice.”

My day had been going so well, and just like that, it went to fucking shit. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Even if he altered it, I would still know it was him. Just by the way he said things, the inflection in his voice on certain words. Ice floated in my veins, and my heart gave a sharp jolt as it contracted sooner than it was supposed to. All I could think about was Theo, wanting his help but not able to ask for it.

Bolton remained quiet as he waited for me to say something.

I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know if he was across the street watching me. If he would grab me when I walked out to my car after I closed up the gallery at the end of the day. “What do you want?” I pulled the phone away from my ear and hit the speaker button before I opened my messages and typed a quick message to Theo. I neef helpp . My hands were shaking so bad that I couldn’t spell shit. I sent it off and knew he would figure it out.

“What do I want?” he asked, like it was a dumb question.

I took him off speaker before I spoke, knowing he would notice the change in my voice and grow suspicious if I didn’t. I didn’t say anything back, so caught off guard that I could barely think.

“What kind of fucking question is that?”

My phone vibrated next to my ear, and I glanced at the screen. Theo had already written back. On my way . I stopped myself from breathing a sigh of relief at the message. He hadn’t been there when I’d needed him before, but it barely took him five seconds to respond now. I had no idea if he was at home sleeping in or if he was at work. But whatever he was doing, it didn’t stop him from dropping it to rush to me.

“I’m still your husband, Astrid.”

The word husband triggered me. Because a husband should never do any of the things he’d done to me—his fucking wife. “You’re nothing to me, Bolton.”

He was quiet.

“Tell me what you want so I can get off the phone and forget this conversation ever happened.”

“I thought I’d given you enough time to cool off.”

“Enough time to cool off…” I said it with such incredulity. Because there was not enough time in the fucking world to cool off from the shit he did. “You know when I’ll cool off? When you’re fucking dead.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could feel his rage through the phone. “We were happy?—”

“ You were happy. I was at home while you were off screwing Carson and whoever else. You were going to use me as an incubator to have your children and raise them like a fucking maid while you continued to live a bachelor life that I didn’t know about. ”

“Astrid, I ended that relationship because I loved you?—”

“Why are we doing this?” I snapped. “Why are we having this conversation again? When I said I would rather die in that burning building than be with you, I meant it. I want nothing to do with you. I begged Theo to kill you, and he promised me he would. So, fuck off.”

“You think he’s going to kill me?” Obnoxious arrogance was in his voice. “Let’s not forget I kill people for a living, while he sits on his ass and orders people around. He’s been wasting his time picking off my guys one by one like I’m stupid enough to tell any of them where I am. The guy is a fucking moron.”

“The only moron here is me—for ever believing a word out of your goddamn mouth.”

“When I said I loved you, I meant it.”

“Did you mean it when you said it to Carson?”

He turned quiet.

“If you think you can love two people at once, then you’re the moron…”

“Astrid, listen to me. I’m going to kill your fuckboy, and when I do, it’s going to be so much worse for you. So I suggest you make the right choice and save yourself the unnecessary suffering?—”

“Abuse,” I said. “That’s the word I would use…”

“Believe it or not, I don’t want to hurt you. But he’s going to be dead soon. Very soon?—”

“Then you better kill me too because I’d rather die with him than be with you.”

“Don’t make me?—”

“I love him, Bolton.” I didn’t plan on saying it, but my heart had decided on it. It was an unwise decision that would probably lead to unwanted consequences, but in the heat of the moment, I didn’t give a damn. “I love him.” I said it again, saying it to myself this time because I hadn’t allowed myself to even acknowledge it. “And if you ever loved me, you’ll let me be happy.”

He was quiet.

I waited, my breathing elevated in the tension, waiting for the results of my decision. If I’d just pulled the pin out of the grenade or if I’d defused the bomb.

Click .

I looked at the screen before I set down the phone, even more tense because I didn’t get my answer.

The door flew open, and Theo walked inside wearing a bulletproof vest strapped across his black t-shirt with an automatic rifle in one hand and a pistol in the other—in broad daylight. He did a quick sweep of the room before he approached the desk .

I saw the two Hummers outside in the parking lot. Guys climbed out, similarly armed.

“Are you alright?”

“Bolton called.” I looked at the guys outside again. “I’m sorry…I should have specified. But in the moment, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what he wanted or what would happen?—”

“Sweetheart.” He silenced me with the command in his gaze. “You did exactly what I wanted you to do.” He moved back to the window and looked at the guys outside. Then he pressed his finger into his ear as he listened to one of his guys over the comms. “I can take it from here.” He locked the front door, flipped the sign from open to closed, and then pulled the strap of the gun off his neck so he could lean the rifle against the wall. The handgun was returned to the back of his jeans.

I hadn’t risen from my chair. My legs were still lead. “He hung up right when you walked in.”

“Is he in the area?”

“He—he didn’t say.”

“Then why did he hang up?” He pulled up a chair to my desk to sit close to me, the corner of the desk between us.

Because I love you.

Theo’s presence was threatening, as if I was the one who’d done something wrong. He looked at me like I was on trial, when I was the victim of the crime. His eyes seemed darker than usual, storm clouds on a spring day. “What happened?”

“You seem angry.”

“I am angry.”

“But you seem angry at me.”

He continued his hard stare. It was practically pulsing.

“What did I do?—”

“Why did you take his call?”

“I didn’t know it was him. It was a blocked number?—”

He raised his voice. “Why would you answer a blocked number?”

Now, I raised mine. “Because my clients call on blocked numbers all the time. Rich people are paranoid. You think I wanted to talk to him? What are you trying to imply here, Theo? That I want the man who’s made me so miserable I almost took a bottle full of Vicodin to kill myself?”

The daggers in his eyes immediately withdrew, and he looked away, leaning back in his chair as the ominous clouds from his mood passed and the blue sky returned. After several seconds of avoidance, he looked at me again. “What happened?”

I wanted an apology for the way he acted, but I was so happy he was there that I let it go. “Honestly, it was the same shit. Said he hoped I’d had enough time to cool off…like my flames will ever die.” They burned hotter than the fire that took my home. “Said if I don’t come back to him willingly, it’ll be much worse after he kills you and takes me.”

The threat didn’t make him hesitate. “Don’t let him scare you.”

“I’m not. Just don’t underestimate him.”

His stare was so hard, he had the power to make mountains cower. “I never underestimate anything when it comes to you.”

I looked away to hide the way my insides melted.

“Sweetheart.”

I could only avoid his stare for a couple seconds before I caved.

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

With eyes like the dark side of the moon, a confidence higher than an ancient sequoia, his look had the power to give me wings. Even on the happiest day of my marriage with Bolton, I was never as happy with him as I was on my worst day with Theo. This relationship had been so brief and occurred under such strenuous circumstances, but it somehow felt so right. “I don’t want anything to happen to you either.”

“Don’t ever worry about me. It’s not your job. ”

“If it’s not my job, then whose is it?”

“Mine.”

“Well, I’d like it to be mine.”

He stared at me for a while before he gave a slight shake of his head. “That’s not how it works, sweetheart. I take care of you—not the other way around.”

“But I want to take care of you.” I wanted to rub his sore muscles when they ached. I wanted to make him soup when he was sick. I wanted to watch him grow old through the decades…and be there every step of the way.

His gaze remained hard as stone, not giving me any entry into the conversation. “Why did he hang up?” What little vulnerability he’d shown in his expression was long gone. He was back to business, back to his coldness.

I felt the jolt of terror at the question. I was blinded by the flashlight he pointed at my eyes. “I told him to fuck off.”

“And that was all it took? Then you should have said that at the beginning.”

I did.

His eyes were never kind like Axel’s. They were fierce, intelligent, sharp. Even in our most intimate conversations, he rarely showed warmth. His eyes didn’t soften at my compliments. He seemed to always be on guard, even with me. “I’ve never lied to you.”

I knew he smelled my bullshit—and called me out on it .

“At least by choice.” He didn’t ask the question again verbally, but his eyes continued to dig into my flesh like a shovel. “So, are you lying to me willingly or because you think you don’t have a choice?”

There was no escape. My eyes shifted away to avoid his angry stare.

“Look at me.”

My arms crossed over my chest.

“I won’t ask again.”

“Theo—”

His hand went to my chin, and he turned my gaze on him. His fingers were as gentle as a bee landing on a flower. He didn’t yank my face toward him, just gently guided it until it was where he wanted. “There.” His arm rested on the desk between us, and his stare burned into mine with such hostility and more heat than the surface of the sun. “Now, answer my question.”

I didn’t know how to answer it. Didn’t know how to circumvent the precarious position.

“Tell me what you said to him.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his impatience was as loud as a scream.

I didn’t lie because he seemed to know my tells now. Seemed to have stared at me long enough to understand all my reactions like details scribbled on a notecard. So I went with the truth and hoped he would leave it alone. “I—I don’t want to.”

The anger in his eyes told me he wouldn’t let it lie. “Why?”

“Because.”

“Because…” He gave a slight nod, but it was a sarcastic one, the anger visible in the tightness of his arms. “I’m willing to give up my life for yours, but you can’t tell me what you said to him?”

“That’s not fair?—”

“Bolton gave me a choice. I can give you back and get my brother’s remains back. Or I could keep you…and let him throw Killian’s bones in an incinerator. You know what I chose, but you can’t fucking tell me what you said to him?” He raised his voice. He looked at me in a way he never had before, like he hated me. “Good to fucking know.” He slammed his hand down on the desk before he rose to his feet, pushing back the chair until it tipped over behind him.

“Theo, listen to me. It’s not what you think it is?—”

He grabbed the rifle and headed to the door. “How can I think anything when I don’t know anything? This is the guy who punched you in the face, but you still keep his secrets.”

“It’s not his secret.” I followed him to the door. “Theo, please just let this go. I beg you. ”

“So you’ll tell him something but not me?” He looked at me before he opened the door, his disappointment heavy like a pile of snow on a mountainside about to slide down in an avalanche.

I knew he wasn’t ready to hear how I felt. Our relationship was still beginning in a lot of ways. It would put pressure in places where we were weakest, and we would crumble. “Please…just trust me.”

Disappointment was still in his eyes, the curtains drawn closed over the windows. He unlocked the door and opened it to walk out.

I knew I was going to lose him no matter what I did, but this wasn’t the way I wanted to lose him. “He said he would kill you, and I said he would have to kill me too, because I’d rather die than lose you.”

He halted but didn’t turn around, his eyes still toward the parking lot.

“Because I love you.” I felt the terror the moment I said it, felt his hand slip from mine forever. The only thing he’d offered was to try. Try to have something that might fly. But before we could even achieve lift-off, I burdened it with too much weight. “That’s why he hung up.” I turned away from the door because I was too scared to see his reaction. He would be either disappointed or annoyed. Might even feel the ick because of my clinginess. Our relationship finally had its first spring and bloomed, and then I brought the rain. I stepped farther into the gallery so I wouldn’t have to watch him leave. So I could sit and give my legs a chance to recover from the shakes.

But then I heard the click of the lock…followed by his footsteps.

There was a gentle thud as he placed the gun on the desk.

I couldn’t see him because I chose a chair that faced the opposite way, my hands on my knees.

He came around the chair and stared down at me.

I kept my eyes on the coffee table. I’d never been more scared to look at him.

After a moment, he sat at the edge of the coffee table, elbows on his knees, his eyes unreadable.

“I didn’t want to tell you.” I wished I’d never said it to Bolton. Should have just hung up. Why didn’t I just fucking hang up? “Especially not like this.” My eyes moved down to the rug beneath us because I was too much of a mess to look him in the eye. I’d felt so secure in our relationship minutes ago, and now I felt it shatter.

“Sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, with a hint of remorse.

I didn’t look at him.

He didn’t grab my chin like he did before. He let me be. “It’s my fault. I should have trusted you.”

Instead of him being calm and understanding, I expected him to be distant. So distant he was an island off the coast.

“I’ll get you a new phone. Don’t answer blocked calls anymore.”

I hadn’t expected the conversation to go well, but I was somehow still disappointed. My eyes lifted to his.

They were already on mine, like they’d been there all along.

“I was angry that you spoke to him at all, and I lost my temper.”

“I don’t know how a man like you could possibly be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Then what are you?”

He was quiet for a while. “Indignant. Because that man doesn’t deserve to look at you ever again, let alone speak to you. He should be dead right now, but he lives because he’s a rat in a sewer and I don’t chase rats. If he were a greater man, he would meet me face-to-face under the eyes of David, and we would carve each other like pumpkins until one of us bleeds out first. But he’s a fucking coward, a coward who didn’t deserve you in the first place. I’m indignant that you spoke to him because he’s so fucking beneath you. You should have hung up the second you heard his voice.”

“I—I froze. I’m sorry.” It was a wild moment, and I was scared and my ass was sweating. “I wasn’t sure if he was waiting for me outside. Or if he already had you and wanted to make a trade… I didn’t know.”

He stared at his hands for a while, his knuckles locked together, before he spoke again. “It’s okay.” His eyes lifted to look at me again. The hardness of his stare had softened noticeably, like a knife that had been dulled by time.

“I don’t want to lose you.” Even when it seemed like things were better, I knew they were irrevocably different. Before today, our relationship had possibilities, but now it was weighed down with obligations. I told Theo I loved him, and now he was tasked with reciprocating or rejecting that love. I already knew what he would choose.

He held my stare with his intensity. “I’m right here.”

“I don’t want to scare you away.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t get scared.”

“You know what I mean.” He could walk through bullets and knives unscathed, but words were invisible and impossible to dodge. They hit him everywhere, all at once. “I told him if he ever loved me, he would let me be happy. I don’t know if I started a fire or if I put it out.”

He seemed unencumbered by the weight of my words. I didn’t say I loved him again, but I shared that I was happy with him…and he was the one I wanted. “Neither. You kicked the hornet’s nest.”

“I’m sorry?— ”

“Don’t be. Maybe now he’ll show his face.”

When I came home, it was past seven.

I wasn’t sure if Theo was there. Sometimes he was gone for the night. Sometimes he was in his room. After my revelation at the gallery, I suspected he would be out until morning. A good excuse to avoid my tentacles until morning.

Truth be told, I wished we could just forget it ever happened.

I went by his room and knocked, expecting no answer.

“It’s open.”

I stilled when I heard his deep voice. I waited on the other side of the door, trying to remember if he sounded annoyed.

“I said, it’s open.”

I stepped inside and found him on the couch in front of the TV. There was a game on, and he watched it in just his sweatpants, his decanter of scotch there, along with a bucket of ice. Most guys preferred a beer when they were off the clock, but that would practically be water to someone like Theo.

He looked at me, one arm over the back of the couch.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect you to be home.”

“Didn’t want you to think I was avoiding you. ”

“So you stayed home to make me think you weren’t avoiding me, even though you do want to avoid me?”

“I don’t want to avoid you, sweetheart.” He patted the seat beside him. “Now get your ass over here.”

I stood there and stared at the vacant seat. “Can we just forget what happened earlier today?”

He stared at me for a long time, the reflection of the TV in his eyes. “I don’t want to forget.”

It was stupid to expect him to say he loved me back when I knew he wouldn’t, but I was somehow still disappointed when it didn’t happen. So I prepared for the worst-case scenario, of losing him altogether. But this reaction was much better than that, and it felt like a win.

He patted the seat again.

I joined him on the couch, still in my skirt and blouse, and immediately felt his arm circle my waist and pull me close. He cradled me into his body, his lips brushing across my hairline, his hand making itself welcome underneath my blouse on my rib cage.

My face went to his chest, and I lay still, not paying attention to the game on the TV, just the warmth of his skin, the way he held me, the way nothing had changed. My hand went to his thigh and felt the hard muscles underneath the soft material.

His fingers continued to graze my skin underneath my top as he watched the game. He didn’t yell at the TV when the plays were made, but he seemed to be into it because he watched with intensity.

“I didn’t know you liked sports.”

“I like gambling.”

“You bet on a team?”

“Manchester United.”

I didn’t watch sports at all. Bolton didn’t either. So I knew nothing about it. “I’m surprised you like to gamble when you’re already so wealthy.”

“It’s not about the money. It’s about the win.” When the game was over, he grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. The second the remote was tossed aside, he was pulling at my clothes like he’d been anxious for the game to end so he could get them off. He pulled down the zipper at the back of my skirt so it slid over my hips. He tugged the thong with it too, making me naked on the bottom. Then he yanked down his boxers until his dick popped out, and he guided me over him, telling me he wanted me to do the fucking tonight.

He pulled me onto his fat length like it was a bicycle seat and then ground against me. My clit dragged over him and immediately made my fingertips go numb in desire. His big hands squeezed my ass as he looked at me the way he did across the dinner table, like I was all he wanted in this world .

His hand cupped my neck, and he kissed me, kissed me hard and slow at the same time, making our kiss purposeful and raw, like it was the first time.

I felt the air leave my lungs. Felt the uncertainty leave my thoughts.

I just felt him.

He ended our kiss to lift me by the hips, his eyes never leaving mine as he lifted his dick and pointed it at my entrance. He let me sink at my own pace, let my wet lips kiss his head before I started to inch down his length, pushing him inside me even when my little body wanted to resist.

I was only able to make it work because I was soaking wet. Drenched for this man and those dark eyes and that heavy stare. He saw my bleeding heart on my sleeve, but he didn’t run. Didn’t shut me down or close himself off. He was there when I got home, ready to prove that a couple words, no matter how powerful, weren’t enough to chase him away.

His eyes closed as he released a satisfied moan. He always enjoyed me like it was the first time, like he’d finally claimed me after several dinners and late-night conversations. His fingers dug hard into my skin as he gripped my ass, a hot metal pipe inside me. The tint moved into his skin, the desire in his eyes, a man unafraid to show how much he wanted a woman. He sank into the couch as his thumbs moved across my stomach, squeezing my petite frame like he wanted to watch me break.

I stopped when it started to hurt as his big dick rammed me too far. I had the sudden thought of being pregnant with his child, my stomach enormous because it was a big, healthy baby. With my legs spread, I pushed for hours to give birth to his son, a boy who would grow up to be immense just like his father.

I blinked, and the vision disappeared.

His muscular arms hooked under my thighs, and he helped me rise up his dick before lowering back down, moving his arms like he was doing bicep curls with weights. It seemed effortless on his part because his focus on my eyes hadn’t changed. “Fuck, this pussy is better than scotch.” He helped me rise and fall, doing most of the work as if he knew I would tire easily on my own. I didn’t do lunges or squats. Didn’t do weights. I had the stamina to run on a treadmill, but I didn’t have the muscular strength to do anything more intense…like this.

My hands were planted on his chest near his shoulders, and I used his body as the anchor to help me move, to carry my own weight so he wouldn’t have to do it all. He was the one always on top, the one doing all the fucking while I lay there and enjoyed it. It was his turn to get fucked.

“Take off your top.”

I was still in the blouse I’d worn to work, a button-down. I unbuttoned the top few buttons to get it loose enough to pull over my head. A black bra was on underneath, and I snapped open the clasp and let it fall. My tits immediately hardened once the warm fabric was gone and I was bare to the air.

He stared at my tits like he’d never seen them before. “That’s better.” He lifted me up and down at a greater pace, pulling my pussy over his hard dick over and over, the sounds of our slick bodies as loud as clapping hands. “Much better.”

I ended up on my back in his bed, his arms pinned behind my knees as he rocked into me with regular, even strokes. He was a tattooed god on top of me, bulging muscle underneath beautiful skin, and he seemed to be the one honored that he got to fuck me—when it was the other way around.

His dark eyes were locked on mine as he worked, as he thrust, as he made me feel good like it was his job.

Bolton had been good in bed, but he’d never been this dedicated to my needs. Theo knew he had me wrapped around his finger, but he was still enthusiastic about my pleasure, like getting me off was what got him off. Sometimes making me cry from too much dick got him off too, but it depended on his mood.

I felt my body tighten around his length as the explosion hit without warning. Sometimes, I could feel it approach like the sunrise over the horizon, and other times, it hit me like a train without brakes.

“Come all over my dick, sweetheart.”

My nails clawed into his skin as my thighs widened farther, the moans mixing with the little cries in the back of my throat.

When he felt my legs droop in his arms, he scooted a little farther to pin me back more and ram me with his humongous dick. He gave me his hard thrusts, unable to stop when he watched and listened to me come. He gave me all of it even when it hurt, and no amount of pain could diminish how good it felt.

I came as hard as he did, tears squeezing from the corners of my eyes, stuffed full of a dick that wouldn’t fit. My nails clawed at his forearms as I convulsed in his arms, a hurricane of pleasure ripping through my body and destroying it in the process.

He slowly came down with me, his dick gradually softening inside me, his dark eyes turning gentle rather than lethal. He gently withdrew himself and stared at the flood of come that seeped out after his exit. He had a subtle look of possessiveness before he rolled over onto his back and lay there.

I winced as I felt the stiffness in my spine and legs when I dropped my legs and let my body unfold from the pretzel shape he had bent me into. My body was exhausted like I’d done something strenuous, when I’d only lain there and gotten fucked by a six-and-a-half-foot dark god. Even when his come leaked from my entrance, I lay there because I didn’t want to move. I wanted to lie in that bed forever.

After a couple moments of silence, he left the bed and walked into the bathroom. The water from the shower was audible a moment later. He usually showered before bed, so it was his nighttime routine.

I finally found the strength to go into the bathroom and clean up, feeling the ache between my legs like I did every night. I stopped to look at him in the shower before I walked out without washing off my makeup. I would do that in my bathroom down the hall.

I returned to the sitting room and gathered my clothes that had been scattered on the other couch and the floor. I didn’t want to get dressed just to walk down the hallway, and I assumed it was unlikely I would bump into his butler on the way, so I balled up the clothes in one arm and held my heels in the other.

He stepped into the room buck naked, his hair slightly damp after the towel-dry. He eyed my pile of clothes before he looked me in the eye. “What are you doing?”

“It’s late.” Even if he wanted another round, my body was done for the night. Needed to head to the garage for repairs.

He cocked his head slightly as if he didn’t understand what I’d said. Then he approached me, his tall frame slowly growing into a mountain the closer he came, his chin tilting down to keep our gazes locked. “Then get in bed.” He pushed his hand down on the pile in my hands, making everything drop into a mess on the floor. “Come on.” He gave me that commanding look, treating me like one of his men whom he ordered around.

I liked it when he ordered me around. “You want me to stay?”

“Was that unclear?”

“I—I just didn’t want to overstep?—”

“If I wanted you gone, I would tell you. I say what I mean?—”

“And mean what I say,” I said. “Yes, I remember.”

He flashed me a look of irritation, like he didn’t appreciate the taunt. “Then get your ass in bed before I throw you in it.”

I loved feeling wanted. And I loved the way he made me feel wanted. He took what he wanted without apology. Made demands like he was entitled to whatever he set his eyes on. The fact that I was what he wanted still felt like a dream come true.

I left my clothes behind and returned to his bedroom before I pulled back the sheets. There was a stain in the middle from the way I’d oozed for him.

He walked to his side of the bed, checked his phone before he set it down, and then got under the sheets .

“Do you have a shirt I can sleep in?”

One arm moved behind his head. “Help yourself, sweetheart.”

Every part of my body was reveling in his affection. The way he called me sweetheart, the way he invited me to open his dresser and take whatever I wanted, like whatever was his was mine.

I left the bed and picked out a black t-shirt, a blanket on my small body, and came back to bed.

He turned off the lamp on his bedside then immediately moved to me, spooning me from behind and putting me into the position he wanted, my back against his chest, his face pressed into my hair.

I was certain his mattress and mine were the same, but his was infinitely more comfortable. The sheets were softer. The room was quieter. The chaos of my life had been silenced when Bolton had taken my hand and elevated me from the stress and misery of a bad lot in life. But he never gave me peace, not the way Theo did.

It was different.