Page 113 of Relentless Sinner

The door swings open, and Jaxon walks in. At first, he doesn’t see me, but when he spots me sitting on the floor, his jaw clenches. Of course, while I probably look like I feel—like shit—he looks like he just walked off a Davidoff advert.

He’s got his hair pulled back in a ponytail again like he did at the wedding, showing off his high cheekbones.

I like his hair like that. Or down. I like running my hands through it because it’s the softest part of him.

He closes the door behind him and walks toward me. When he reaches me, he crouches down and stares at me.

“What’s going on, Krasota?”

I stare back at him wondering how he can ask me that. It’s like asking me if I need help when I’m hanging from a shark’s mouth.

“Take your pick,” I mumble, lifting the bottle to my lips again.

When he takes it from me, all I can do is frown. I don’t have the energy to fight him.

“Did you seriously drink all of this?” He glances at the bottle.

“Yes, and more downstairs.”

“This isn’t like you.”

“How do you know? You don’t really know me. But I guess you know more about me than I do about you.” The words roll out of my mind, bypassing any ounce of common sense trying to stop me from speaking without thinking first.

“You’re upset with me. I’m trying to figure out why.” He keeps his tone in that low controlled volume that annoys me. It would be better if he were shouting at me.

“Don’t bother yourself,Pakhan.” God, I think I’m drunk.

“You don’t need to call me that.”

“Why? Isn’t that what everyone else calls you now?”

“You’re my wife.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“I doubt you remember that when you’re with Estelle, or God knows who else. I’m a contract, remember? Just a thing.”

His brows knit. “What makes you think I’m with Estelle or God knows who else?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. Who made you think that? It certainly wasn’t me.”

“Levka.”

His jaw clenches so tightly it looks like it might snap. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

“If it’s true, it’s true.”

“But it’s not.”

I blow out a ragged breath and try to reach for the bottle again, but he holds it away from me. “Give it back.”

“No. You obviously have some stuff on your mind. Stuff I need to hear, so tell me.” His bright blue eyes bore into me. “Say what you need to say.”

I had this whole speech prepared and ready to deliver, yet now my brain is a landmine of mush with everything sloshing everywhere. I really shouldn’t have hadsomuch wine if I had any hopes of sounding strong and confident. But what the hell? A chance is a chance and I’m taking it.

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