Page 121 of Sinful Bride

I force a smile. “I won’t get mad. Just tell me.”

“Well, nothing’s free, right? Brennan helped me, so I helped him. I had to, he said. Thank God he didn’t last longer than a few minutes.”

A myriad of emotions whirl through me. Fury, followed by something close to compassion. That sick fucking bastard. That absolute fucking monster.

I rise to my feet as my stomach churns. “Thank you, Paris. You were very good. I’m going to make sure you’re very well taken care of.”

My wife and siblings are all stunned into silence as we retreat, leaving Paris on her knees in the middle of the floor. She’s singing softly to herself under her breath. I catch my name in the lyrics more often than I’d like.

My skin crawls.

“Mak,” I order out of the side of my mouth, “use one of your burners and call it in. Make sure she’s given the best room with the best care. Somewhere that will allow us to keep tabs on her.”

He’s already dialing the phone before I finish. “On it.”

Sofi heaves an exasperated sigh and runs her hands over her face. “I hate this. I fucking hate this, Pash. This is too easy.”

“I agree.” Daphne makes a face like she’s swallowing back her own bile. There’s nothing but disgust in her eyes when she looks down at Paris. “She shouldn’t get off so easy.”

“Oh, I agree. And I know she’s not, which is why we’re doing this instead.” I stride over to the dining table and pick up a pile of mail. “Judging by the looks of it, Daddy cut her off. The power company is about to do the same.”

“And the phone company,” Paris blurts suddenly. Her face lights up and she blinks at me. “You’ll fix this though, right? You’ll make it all better? I’ll pay you back…”

I hesitate to answer. Paris’s behavior disgusts me—there’s no denying that.

But so does my contribution to her mental state, shattered as it is. Brennan’s abuse may have been the final straw, but I hammered a fair number of nails into her coffin long before we got here.

I was once a monster. No better than Brennan.

I’m not that man anymore, though.

I’ll never be that man again.

43

DAPHNE

Don’t do it.

Don’t look.

I let out a sigh. I can get through this without giving in to temptation. I know I can.

Then my phone buzzes again.

For the eighth time.

I snatch it off my desk and chuck it into the top drawer, keeping it facedown the whole time. I refuse to see whatever the screen says, just in case it gives me an irresistible urge to open the lock screen and read whatever bullshit is in my inbox.

Bzzt.

Bzzt.

Bzzt.

The desk vibrates under my arms.

Son of a bitch…

---