The Obsession (Filthy Rich Americans 2) - Page 5

He had appeared out of nowhere. An oversized black umbrella hovered over Royce’s head, shielding him from the worst of the rain. His white dress shirt was untouched. Only the hem of his blue suit pants was wet. He was probably ruining his expensive shoes, but then again, he had more than enough money to buy new ones, didn’t he? He’d been filthy rich before he’d struck the deal with his father, and tonight he’d added seven zeroes to his portfolio.

The sight of him made my heart beat faster, and the terrifying thing was I had no idea if it was with anger or relief. Lightning strobed in the sky like giant camera flashes. I gazed at the long, slender metal pole in his hand that lifted the umbrella over his head. Did he want to get struck by lightning? Or did he think he was impervious to his father’s wrath?

We stood across from each other, simply staring as the sky was falling around us. God, his eyes. The shadow of the umbrella did nothing to lessen their intensity.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you fucking stupid?” I raised my voice over the unrelenting rain. “What are you doing with that?”

His answer was to pitch the open umbrella to the side. It dropped, bounced to the path at his feet, and I swallowed hard as he let the rain overtake him. It poured over his body, flattening his dark hair and cascading down his shirt. His white shirt. It molded to him, showing off every curve and muscle on his powerful frame. He was so fucking perfect. The only reason I knew he was real and not a statue was the way his chest moved with his uneven breath.

All the while he stared at me, his lips were silent. But his eyes? Those were loud and desperate. I couldn’t look away or escape, and it broke me. The accusation welled up and burst out, tasting like fire. “How could you?”

His shoulders lifted in a deep breath. “I didn’t want to.”

I shook my head. It was a lie. I couldn’t trust anything he said, no matter how convincing he looked or sounded. The fire flamed out, taking all my strength with it. I repeated my question as a whisper. “How could you?”

“Because no one owns you, Marist. He was stupid enough to buy something from me that’s not mine to give.” He shifted, uneasy, as if it were hard to admit. “And because I couldn’t see another way. I don’t think as quickly on my feet as you do.” His posture solidified. “You’re a hell of a lot smarter than me.”

“Don’t,” I hissed. “We’re alone right now. No lies.”

His face contorted under the rivulets of water. “I’m not fucking lying.”

“Your father told me,” the words were broken and jagged, cutting my tongue, “you’d sell me out the first chance you got, and, fuck, that’s exactly what you did.”

“I know.” He took a cautious step toward me. A brilliant line of white light cracked overhead, but he didn’t flinch. Royce didn’t seem to notice it at all. His focus was only on me. “I’m asking you to trust me. I need a little more time.”

With the rain, it was impossible for him to tell if I was crying. I didn’t know myself. My tone was patronizing. “That’s what you need?” Pain edged into my voice. “I don’t think you’re in any position to ask me for something. I gave you a seat on the board. My virginity. A whole year of my life.” My advance toward him was aggressive and adversarial. “I did what you asked, waited for you. I’ve given you everything.”

Maybe even my heart, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. I did my best to stand tall under the force of the storm and his devastating gaze.

“I’m done,” I said. “You understand me? I’m not waiting anymore, especially for someone who screwed up my entire life.” Not just with the initiation either. “Six years ago, you called me a nobody, and nothing’s ever been the same.”

He took another step, bringing him within striking distance. His face was full of regret, but like everything else, it was a lie. He wasn’t capable of remorse—only calculated moves. As the thunder rumbled through the hedges, I swore to myself I wasn’t going to fall for his manipulation ever again.

“The plan I had for my life is over, thanks to you,” I said. I tugged my shoulders back, lifted my chin, and spoke the threat with the most conviction I’d ever possessed. “Get ready, Royce. Expect me to return the favor.”

His lips parted as if he were going to say something but then thought better of it. Had he just choked back an apology? He brushed a hand over his head, slicking back his wet hair, and his gaze drifted down to my left hand. “You’re still wearing it.”

Tags: Nikki Sloane Filthy Rich Americans Billionaire Romance
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