Page 104 of Bitter Rival

I’m drunk and angry but most of all…hurt.

I hate being left in the dark.

I hate being an unwitting accomplice.

And I hate that he’s trying to minimize my feelings when all I’ve ever done was try to validate his.

“I can’t believe I went along with your plans. You’re going to destroy this place if it’s the last thing you do, aren’t you? You’ll set this place on fire and dance on the ashes.”

His eyes are at half-mast, and he doesn’t look the least bit repentant. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll save the last dance for you.”

And that does it. I’ve had enough. “Enjoy your hot tub, asshole.”

I stand, intent on making a speedy but graceful exit, but as soon as I get to my feet, all the blood rushes out of my head, and little dots form in front of my eyes.

The smart thing would be to sit back down until it passes.

But I, of course, don’t choose that option.

Which is how I end up sprawled on the ground, with Beckett crouched over me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Beckett

“What were you trying to do? Break your wrist again?”

“It wasn’t broken,” she grits out.

I sigh and help her to her feet, my hands wrapped around her arms to hold her upright, but she still looks dazed, and I’m afraid she’ll go down again.

Fuck it. I scoop her up into my arms and start walking.

“What are you doing?” She sighs loudly. “Put me down.”

If I put her down, she might pass out again, and since she’s not even trying to fight me, I keep right on walking.

“I can’t trust you to walk on your own. You’re like Bambi on ice.” I follow the stone path through the trees, gritting my teeth when I step on a sharp rock.

Why the fuck did I put the hot tub so far away from the house?

“I guess the wine hit me when I stood up. I felt a little dizzy,” she admits.

No kidding. I saw her swaying on her feet but didn’t reach her in time. “And yet, instead of waiting for the dizzy spell to pass like a sane person would, you attempted to leap out of the hot tub?—”

“I didn’t leap.”

“Catapult?”

“I’m not a gymnast.”

“Clearly. You didn’t stick the landing.”

“I bet you’d be that mean, unsmiling judge who gives me a two out of ten,” she mutters.

“You’re being far too generous.” I stride across the terrace and shoulder my way through the French doors.

All the lights are on because as soon as I got home, I searched the house for Daisy, who once again could not be reached by phone when I tried calling her.

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