Shattered Prince
Page 35
I didn’t think he’d noticed. I’d hoped he’d overlooked the pills entirely, and that I’d managed to get them back into the bag.
But clearly I was wrong.
Why hadn’t he said anything, and why was he only mentioning it now?
All my happy, post-orgasm joy slowly filtered away and my leg began to ache like it was only just remembering that it needed to be in pain at all times.
“Why are you asking me that?”
He shook his head. “That’s not part of the game.”
“No. I’m serious, Carmine.”
“I’m serious too.” His smile slipped away. “Those are opiates, aren’t they? Painkillers for your leg?”
I disentangled myself from him and straightened out my clothes. Suddenly, I felt very naked. I rubbed at the nasty scar on my thigh where a twisted piece of steel had stabbed into the flesh and muscle.
“I don’t take them all the time, if that’s what you’re wondering. Only when my leg hurts.”
“I know you have issues.” He hesitated, head tilted.
“I don’t want to talk about that again.”
“All right. I won’t push. But I do want to know where you got the pills.”
I closed my eyes and breathed.
In and out. In and out. I had to remain calm.
If he understood how dangerous this conversation was, he might not have brought it up.
And yet he did.
“I stole them from my father.” I grimaced as the words came out and I looked over to meet his gaze.
He seemed surprised. But he nodded slowly. “I suspected that.”
“I had to do it. He wouldn’t give me anything else. He kept insisting that I was okay, that my leg had healed, that I was fine. But I’m not fine, Carmine. I haven’t been fine for a very long time.” I inched away from him and stood suddenly. I felt his eyes tracking me. Staring me. Measuring me. Drinking me down.
“You should see a doctor while you’re here.”
I shook my head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? There are specialists in the city. I bet there are people who can help you.”
“Father won’t let me. He says it’s too dangerous. He has too many enemies.”
“Not in San Antonio. I have connections. I have money. I can make sure—”
“No, Carmine.” I stared at him, barely able to control myself.
I didn’t know why I was reacting like this. He wanted to help me. He was the first person in a very long time that’d noticed how bad I was—how much I limped and how many pills I was taking. He saw me, and I hated it. I wanted him to stop looking, because I didn’t like my reflection in his eyes.
He wanted to help, but I didn’t want his help.
Especially not if it would upset my father and cause him to haul me back to Mexico.
I couldn’t go back. Not right now.
“At least talk to someone about what you’re taking,” he said softly, leaning forward. “Or let me see.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “My pills are my business.”
“Jules, please. I can help. You don’t have to carry this on your own.”
“There’s nobody else but me.” I backed away, heart racing. I couldn’t do this. It was a mistake to let him kiss me, and a bigger one to let him get me off. I couldn’t go down this road, not when there was so much at stake.
My pills were mine, and nobody could tell me what to do with them. Nobody could take them away.
“Jules.” He stood up, eyes narrowing. “Stop walking away from me.”
“You got your question. Let it go.”
He came closer. I backed off. “You’re staying in my house. You’re under my care. How would it look if you overdosed?”
“I won’t. I’m not that bad.” I had it under control. I definitely did. He didn’t know how much I took.
“I can’t be sure. Let me have control of the pills. I’ll give them to you—”
“No,” I said viciously. “You don’t care about me. You just want to control me like everyone else. The pills will be another way to keep me begging.”
His eyes went wide. “Jules—”
“You think I don’t know how you men operate? You get something to use against me and my whole life is over. My father locked me away in his house for years after the accident and claimed it was for my own protection. Now he’s finally letting me out, and you want to find a new way to keep me as your pet.” I left out the part about Oscar blackmailing me into oblivion for most of my life.
“I’m trying to help you.” He caught my wrist and held it tight. “By the way you’re reacting, I think you need it.”
“Let me go.”
“No. I need you to understand something. I’m not your father. I don’t give a fuck if you go to school or what you do. I’m not here to run your life. I’m here to keep you happy and alive.”