43. Vanessa
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
VANESSA
Irked Boden is touching me, I shove him off. “Don’t touch me!”
Boden’s smile drops, replaced with a scowl. “There was a time you loved me holding you.”
“Not anymore,” I say coldly. I search the room, my head swiveling worriedly. “Where’s Romy? You better not have harmed her.”
“She’s fine,” he says dismissively. “Riley is with her, making sure she is secured.”
“Are you fucking for real right now?!” I shout, furious that it’s not only him holding Romy hostage, but Riley too.
“Don’t be jealous,” Boden says tenderly, misreading my anger as he tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear.
“You wish,” I spit through my teeth, slapping his hand away. “The two of you are going to burn for this. Nobody fucks with the Royal Bastards. Romy is one of ours.”
“Ours?” Boden raises an eyebrow, backing me against the wall. “She might be theirs, but you are not one of them. You can’t be. You’re already mine.”
I sneer at him. “My property patch says otherwise.”
Boden chuckles softly, as if I said something funny, before his smile vanishes. “A leather vest means shit.”
I’m about to give him an earful when he shocks me stiff, running his nose along my neck. “God, I missed your smell.”
“It’s called Bitch, Please by Back the Fuck Off. I’ll ship you a bottle,” I say, ducking under his arm. I shake off the ick as I speed-walk into the viewing room in search of the mortician.
Boden roughly grabs my arm, spinning me around to face him. He grips me by my biceps with crushing strength, shaking me hard. His behavior was already alarming, but his anger seems to accelerate, and it’s scarring me.
He bares his teeth, snapping, “Stop walking away from me. I’m done with you giving me the cold shoulder.”
Without warning, Boden slams his lips against mine, forcing my mouth open. I gag, pushing against his chest—it does nothing to deter him. His fingers thread painfully in my hair at my scalp, anchoring me in place to eliminate any distance between us.
Oh, hell naw! There’s no way I’m going to tolerate this douchebag forcing himself on me.
I bite at his lips and tongue, anything to get him to stop.
Boden pulls back with a taunting laugh, still holding onto me with blood dripping down his bottom lip. “Yes, bite me. Take all your anger out on me, and I’ll do the same.”
His disgusting mouth comes down on mine again. I twist my face away from his, pushing his head away from mine with my hands. My fingers come down hard on his cheek, scratching deep enough to draw blood.
He rears back with an impatient growl. “Stop fighting, Vanessa! You know you’ve missed me.”
“Stop it!” I shout when he tries to lean in for another kiss, growing increasingly distressed.
When I try to knee him between his legs, Boden loses it. He reaches behind him, yanking his handgun out from the waistband of his jeans. He presses the barrel under my chin, forcing my face up toward his.
Terrified, I gulp, staring at a man I no longer recognize.
When I don’t resist, Boden grins like he won. “There, there, now. See. This is better. No fighting. No shouting. It’s just you and me, talking it out like we could’ve done over a month ago.”
“You’re scaring me,” I whisper, afraid of angering him further.
His smile fades at my words, regret morphing his features into a pained expression. “I don’t want to scare you, Vanessa Baby. I want to love you, for us to go back to the way things were before I messed up. Just love me again, and it will all be fine.”
I stay silent, one, because I’m freaked the fuck out and two, because if I open my mouth to say what I’m thinking, he may pull the trigger in retaliation.
My schooling kicks in, recognizing his high impulsivity, risk-taking, and aggressive behavior all point to Boden displaying a manic episode.
Hell, I’d say he’s experiencing psychosis, deluding himself into believing holding a gun to my head is the only way to fix things between us.
It all adds up to Boden being a very dangerous individual in need of intervention.
Fighting him will only send him further over the edge. If I have any chance of disarming him, I need to remain calm and make him believe I’m coming around to reconciling.
With the gun still pressed snugly under my chin, I count to ten in my head and will my body to relax in his hold. My breathing evens and my tremors lessen despite still being in danger.
Boden must feel the moment my body softens in his embrace. His eyes—still black and blue from when Cupid busted his nose—fill with tears, mistaking my silence for compliance. He slants his face toward mine.
He whispers, “Baby…”
I close my eyes, shutting out at least a piece of him and hoping it will make it easier for me.
My ex gently presses his lips to mine while I force myself not to pull away in disgust, fighting against all my instincts to throw hands. Bile rolls in my stomach, yet I ignore the urge to be sick.
Boden pulls back an inch, and I open my eyes, praying he’s done. His eyes flit between mine, searching for any sign of resistance. Whatever he sees on my face must be convincing enough for him to cry happy tears and take my lips with his again. I allow it until he tries to deepen the kiss.
No matter how much I want to fake it till I make it, I am not an award-winning actress. I’ll blow my cover if he pushes for more.
Unable to take another second, I pull back, gasping. Tears run down my face, but Boden won’t be able to tell they’re shed out of fear and not passion.
Boden presses his forehead to mine, panting. “Fuck, Vanessa. I’ve missed you. Never leave me again. I won’t be able to handle it if you try.”
“Don’t give me a reason to leave,” I say with a shaky voice, adding a layer of realism to my act.
“Never,” he vows adamantly, his eyes set in determination. “No more Rileys—I swear.”
“Speaking of reasons not to leave,” I say, licking my lips nervously. “Can you not point your gun at me?”
Boden gapes down at the firearm pressed against me, shocked by his behavior as if he couldn’t believe he’d pulled a gun on me. It tells me he’s truly not in control of his actions, acting impulsively.
Slowly, he removes the gun from under my chin, lowering it to his side while holding me tightly in one arm.
“I—I’m sorry,” he mumbles, his eyes downcast with shame. “It was the only way to get you to listen.”
“I know,” I say softly, lying through my teeth. “It wasn’t okay, but I forgive you.”
Relief washes over Boden’s face as his eyes come back to mine, swimming with hope. “You do?”
“I do,” I say with the most reassuring voice I can muster. “Promise you won’t do it again?”
He nods, a small smile forming on his face. “I promise.”
“Can you put the gun away?”
His smile falters, tension returning and tightening his jaw. “No.”
“Okay,” I say nonchalantly, trying my hardest to play it cool and not give him a reason to doubt my intentions. “I just didn’t want an accident to happen.”
There. My response seems reasonable.
Conflicted, Boden frowns. “I won’t point it at you again, but I need to keep it out for now, in case anyone shows up here.”
“Okay,” I say again, pretending not to take it personally. “Can I see my friend now?”
“Um, yes, of course,” Boden stammers, thrown off by my acceptance of his behavior. “I’ll take you to her.”
He takes my hand firmly in his and leads me to the back of the funeral home, where an elevator is located for transporting the bodies from what I can only assume is the prep area.
We enter the elevator, my heart pounding haphazardly in my chest with being in a confined space with Boden when his behavior is unpredictable.
He hits the button for the basement before looking at me with a stern expression. “Vanessa?”
“Yes?” I ask with a lump of dread in my throat.
“Don’t try anything funny,” he warns me. “You won’t like what happens if you do.”