Page 19 of Thorns of Malice

"You don't call drugging a woman so she'll do anything you want while having sex with you, rape?" I hurl.

"They don't do anything they don't want to," he retorts.

Rage fills me. I point at him. "You've always been a sick bastard, Bobby."

"Didn't take you as a goody-two-shoes, Dax. Seems like you forgot a lot of our childhood," he threatens.

"I never drugged anyone to sleep with me."

He clenches his jaw, and tense silence fills the air.

I wait him out.

He finally says, "You partook in an event that I believe neither of us will ever forget. That West Virginia whore was more than eager to have us both, along with Lilly. Or do you have a selective memory?"

My stomach turns. I hate the fact that I was part of that foursome. I loathe the fact that I manipulated Ivy into doing what she did and didn't stop it. I'll always detest myself. I was more concerned about winning the game and having leverage over Lilly's father than stopping what should have been stopped. And I hate that I allowed Bobby to ever lay a finger on Ivy.

She wasmyIvy.

Not his.

"Ah, so you didn't forget," he smugly states, as if he has one over on me.

Don't show him any weakness.

I keep my calm demeanor and shrug. "I may have been part of it, but I had no knowledge of the drugs. If I knew you'd drugged her, I never would have partaken in it, and I would have gotten her out of that room."

"That's convenient. If I go down for anything, you're coming with me, Dax," he threatens.

"You think so?"

His eyes turn darker and his lips curve. "I know so."

I grunt. "You admitted to me in writing what you did and that I had no knowledge. My attorney's already seen the texts and has copies. If you think I would've released any of this if I was at risk of going to jail, you'd be wrong. You know I'm smarter than that. Oh, but then again, I've always been the smart one between us, haven't I?"

"You motherfucker," he snarls.

I point to the door. "Get the fuck out of my office, Bobby. Go back to the South of France or wherever it is you want to go."

He doesn't move, accusing, "Since when the fuck have you turned on me? We've been friends forever."

I start to laugh, and I can't stop for some reason.

He furrows his eyebrows. "What the fuck is so funny?"

I stop laughing and rise. I glare down at him, admitting, "I've not been friends with you since you did what you did."

He jerks his head back and then studies me. He recovers from his shock and states, "You've never gotten over her, have you?"

I don't say anything.

"You let that West Virginia piece of trash, slutty, dirty, fucking whore ruin our friendship? What? Did she come back and ask to suck your dick?" he bellows.

I lunge across the desk and grab him. I take my fist and slam it into his face. Blood spurts everywhere. I push him back. He tries to come toward me, but I hit him again. He falls over the desk.

"Get out!" I order.

He slowly looks up, cupping his hand under his bloody nose. "Jesus Christ, Dax. What the fuck is your problem?"

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