Brutal Prince (Brutal Birthright)

“You’re sure it was Castle?”

“One hundred percent. He left right after they talked, and I followed him back to his car. The gray Maserati.”

I nod. That’s definitely him.

“And there’s something else,” Jack says.

“What?” I bark.

“They kissed.”

The floor seems to drop out from under me.

I completely forget about Zajac. All my anger, all my desire for violence and revenge is turned on Castle instead. If he were in the room right now, I’d shoot him in the face.

“Thank you for telling me,” I say through stiff lips.

She kissed him. Then she came home to me, cheerful as ever, like nothing happened.

Maybe to her, it is nothing.

After all, we never really talked about this. We never promised to be faithful to each other. Our marriage is a business arrangement, I can’t forget that. The vows we spoke mean nothing, not really. The only real promises were the ones made by my father and hers.

Still, it gnaws at me.

Is she meeting up with him secretly? Are they fucking? Does she love him still?

I’m going to ask her.

I stride down the hallway to our bedroom, determined to confront her.

When I push my way through the door, she’s typing something on her phone. She closes it out abruptly, swiping upward to change apps, then flipping her phone over and laying it face-down on the bed.

“What’s up?” she says.

“What were you doing?” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“Just now. On your phone.”

“Oh,” she says, cheeks slightly pink. “Just adding some new songs on Spotify. Gotta make a victory playlist for after the election.”

She’s lying. She was typing a message, I’m sure of it.

I should grab her phone, demand to see what she was doing.

It has a password though, and Aida is stubborn as fuck. She won’t give it to me. It’ll turn into a battle.

Better to wait. I’ll steal her password, then go through her phone uninterrupted, without tipping her off.

So I force my face to be calm and inexpressive, and I say, “Okay. We should eat something before we head out.”

“What do you want to eat?” she asks, relieved that I dropped the subject.

“I don’t care,” I say.

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