He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer. “So what if they did? I want them to hear. You’re my fucking wife, and I’ll please you any goddamn way I want.”
Fuck me, I’d almost say that was hot … if it didn’t come from the one person I should hate more than anything.
“You’re using me as a toy. Like something you can show off,” I spit. “I’m a human being, Luca. I have feelings.”
“And you think I don’t?” he quips, nostrils flaring.
For a moment, I stare at him in silence. “What—?”
Suddenly, he grips both my arms and forces me to look at him. “After I gave you the best orgasm you could ever have, you compare me to my fucking brother.”
Best orgasm? What an ego.
“Your brother was a better version of you.”
The fire in his eyes rages on, and it feeds my soul. Maybe it’s because I’m vicious, or maybe, just maybe, I want him to hurt the way I’ve been hurt.
He stares me down for a moment, letting my words sink in. “My brother was a coward who wanted to run away from responsibility. He didn’t even want you.”
I’d be lying if I said that didn’t hurt me. “At least he would’ve treated me better than you are.”
He stares at me for a moment, my own hurt reflected in his eyes as though he’s made it his.
“I’m done fucking talking about my brother.”
He’s done talking, but he won’t ever be done punishing me.
He grabs my arm and drags me along. He stops in the middle of the street as a car comes riding down the lane. It comes to a halt right next to us, missing my body by a hair, and Luca opens the door.
“Get in,” Luca growls.
I ignore him and go straight for the jugular. “You’re angry with Liam because he stole a kiss from me, aren’t you? And you’re taking it out on me.”
“I’m not angry with him,” he spits. “I’m angry with you.”
Tears well up in my eyes. “Why?”
“Did you forget you killed him?”
“So all of this … all that dirty stuff you do … it’s all just to punish me for killing him?” Liar. “And you wonder why I ran away from you and your family all those years ago.”
His eyes almost shoot fire. “Get. In.”
I do what he asks, but not without a protesting glare. I know how he feels about me. He hates my guts, but the feeling is mutual. I wish I could stop longing for a better life. One where I wouldn’t have to hate the man who put a ring on my finger and made me his.
To him, I am nothing but an object to own.
A prize taken from the battlefield.
And he’s the victor reigning over the blood and bones of his own damn family.
When he gets inside the car and shuts the door, nothing but silence is left.
But I’ve spoken all the words I wanted to say. It all means … nothing.
Nothing to him or his ice-cold heart.
And I have to stop letting him into mine.
Chapter 20
Luca
* * *
The disgusted look on Jill’s face makes it incredibly hard to feel anything other than rage.
She makes my blood boil, and not in a good way. She’s a strongheaded vixen who doesn’t even know the kind of power she holds, and fuck me, it’s infuriating as hell.
We’re both fuming in the car, refusing to speak with one another, and it feels like a goddamn volcano is about to burst.
I want to get home as fast as possible and leave this mess behind. I have enough to worry about as it is.
I look sideways at the girl stewing in her own juice beside me. We’re one and the same. If only she could see. But nothing I can say will change her mind.
Nothing I do will ever make her …
I groan to myself and look away again, rubbing my forehead.
When the car stops, she immediately opens the door and kicks off her shoes.
“Why are you taking off your shoes?” I ask.
“They hurt my feet. And now that the dinner is over, there’s no point in wearing them,” she responds as I get out too.
“I asked you to wear them,” I reply, looking at her over the hood of the car. “You can impress me.”
“Impress you?” She throws me a confused look that immediately turns sour. “Do you enjoy playing with my heart?”
I shrug. “I have nothing else to play with right now.”
She rolls her eyes. “Right. So you married me out of boredom. Got it.” She picks up her shoes and marches inside.
I rub my face. All this time, I thought I was a sadist, but fuck me, I must be one fucking depraved, starving masochist.
My phone rings, so I pick it up.
“Luca! Why the hell aren’t you here?” It’s my father, and he’s whisper-yelling through the phone like he’s trying to be quiet.