Page 82 of Broken

“I’m stupid?” I snort a laugh. “You seriously think he’s stupid enough to let you pull a stunt like that and not figure out something’s going on? You have heard about drug tests, right? Exactly how loyal do you think this poor woman you roped into your scheme is going to be once Nathan gets a hold of her? Or reports you both to the cops for sexual assault?”

“You fucking told him?” he screams again. “If I go down for this, you’re coming with me, Melanie. I’ll tell everyone you were in up to your neck.”

I let out a triumphant but hollow laugh. “So you’re admitting it was you?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds. “Fuck you!”

“I hate you, Bryce. I’ve always hated you, but this is unforgivable.”

“If anything happens to me because of this, it will be on you, Melanie.” His voice takes on a whiny tone now, and it makes my stomach roll.

He’s such a manipulative little shit, and I can’t believe I didn’t have the strength to do this years ago. “You are dead to me, Bryce. You even come near me again and I’ll go to the cops and tell them what you did to him myself. Do you hear me?”

The line goes dead, and I’m left holding the phone in my hand, my chest heaving. An overabundance of emotions charge around my body, fighting for dominance. I close my eyes, trying to make sense of the thoughts racing in my brain, but there’s no peace to be found. Everything is broken, and I don’t know how to even begin to fix it.

Chapter

Forty-Three

NATHAN

Two fucking days I’ve been scouring this city looking for this prick. Like I have nothing better to do with my time. I’ve barely eaten or slept since I got back from Chicago and Mel hit me with her little revelation, and work has been put on the backburner. My secretary is dealing with what she can in my absence, but I need to get back to the office as soon as possible. It’s the only place where everything still makes sense to me. A place where I can have ice in my veins instead of the fire that’s currently burning through them. Once I’ve dealt with this sack of shit, my life might get back to some semblance of normalcy.

Bryce Edison throws back his head and laughs at the blond sitting beside him. She flutters her eyelashes, pretending to hang onto his every word. And I have to assume she’s only pretending because he talks nothing but shit. The fact that he’s evaded me for almost forty-eight hours means Mel must have told him I was onto his fucked-up scheme. Which is only further evidence that she’s a lying, scheming bitch too.

But the fact that he tried to dodge me tells me what a stupid asshole he is. Like there is anywhere in this fucking city, or the entire fucking country for that matter, where he could hide from me. If he’d done any homework on me, he would know that I have contacts everyfuckingwhere. As soon as he popped his little weasel-like head out of whatever hole he was hiding in, my sources were quick to let me know.

Which is why I find myself here, in a bougie little Italian restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen, staring at the man whose life I’m about to ruin. I walk toward the table at the back of the restaurant, tucked away in a corner like he thinks that makes him less conspicuous.

The blond sees me first, and her eyes widen with confusion. I jerk my head toward the door. “Get the fuck out.”

She pouts and looks at Bryce—who, upon hearing my voice, has turned an unnatural shade of gray. “Brycey, you gonna let him talk to me like that?” she whines.

He opens and closes his mouth. Pathetic piece of shit. I glare at him. “Bryce and I are going to have a talk, and I’m sure he doesn’t want one of his whores to hear what I have to say.”

“Get lost, Pammy,” he snaps.

With a dramatic huff, she grabs her shiny pink purse and stomps out of the restaurant. I take a seat opposite him, and Bryce glances nervously around the almost-empty room.

“There’s no help for you here, Brycey. Who do you think told me you were here?”

He swallows hard and shrinks back against the leather bench. “What do you want?”

“I want you to tell me what the fuck you hoped to achieve by having me drugged?”

He shakes his head vigorously from side to side. “I had no idea, I swear. It was all Mel’s idea.”

Unable to stop myself, I lash out and punch him square in the jaw, causing his head to snap back. He wails like a fucking child, clutching his mouth as tears leak from the corners of his eyes. “Don’t fucking lie to me, you useless prick. I know you were there.”

He holds his hands up in surrender, his tongue swiping at the blood welling from the cut on his lip. “Okay, I was there. But it was Mel’s idea. She wanted to fleece you for whatever cash she could, and I just went along with it.”

Motherfucker. I could smash his head into this table right now and not bat an eye. But I ball my hands into fists and stop myself. Everything about him screams lies, and I need the truth.

I roll my neck. “So, that little bitch planned it all, yeah?”

He nods, his eyes flashing with unrestrained glee.

“So she must have known the bartender, Ariana?”

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