Twisted Lies (Twisted 4) - Page 38

I expected her to snap back, anticipated it the way an alcoholic anticipated his next sip of liquor. But the fire cooled almost as soon as it kindled, smothered beneath a layer of newly formed ice.

“Understood.” She reached into her pocket and retrieved a brass key, which she forced into my hand. “In fact, you won’t find me in your apartment again, period.”

I didn’t realize how hard I was gripping the key until the jagged edge dug into my palm.

The slam of the front door reverberated through the ensuing silence.

I usually enjoyed the silence. It was peaceful and restorative, but now it seemed oppressive, like an invisible weight pressing against my chest.

The key sank deeper into my palm before I uncurled my hand and shoved it in my pocket.

I stepped around the broken watering can and stalked to my room, where I yanked off my tie and tossed it on the bed.

It didn’t ease the expanding tightness in my throat.

Beneath the ice, Stella had been hurt. I’d glimpsed a kernel of it before her defenses kicked in.

A strange pang hit my chest before I made an impatient noise.

For fuck’s sake.

I’d had a hell of a day. Not just with work, but with all the nosy fuckers in my life who swarmed all over me now that I was finally “dating” someone. I didn’t have time to analyze microexpressions.

I removed my cufflinks and my watch, which I placed parallel to each other on the nightstand.

Understood. In fact, you won’t find me in your apartment again, period.

What the hell did that mean? If she reneged on our rent deal…

A muscle ticked in my jaw.

I shouldn’t care. I didn’t even like the damn plants. I only kept them because my interior designer insisted they “pulled the aesthetic together,” and I refused to admit failure by letting them die.

But it was the principle of the matter. I couldn’t set a precedent where people backed out of an agreement with me without consequences.

The memory of the fleeting hurt in Stella’s eyes resurfaced like an annoying gnat that wouldn’t go away.

“Dammit to hell.”

With an annoyed growl, I abandoned my better instincts, slammed the bedroom door behind me, and made my way downstairs.

Tags: Ana huang Twisted Romance
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