Page 9 of Room One Hundred and Five

For all the places for him to find me.

My lips curl with bitter disgust. Fire burns at the edges of my eyes. But I fight to hide every single hot tear that wants to fall from this demon in Armani.

“William Allen Brigh.”

I swallow hard. “I knew the devil would spit you out of hell and back into my life, eventually.”

Three

Stella

My hand drops to my abdomen and I rub the puckered scar two inches to the right of my pelvis bone.

Willam’s eyes track my movement and the cruel laugh that peels from his lips sends chills through my body. “Is that how you should speak to the first love of your life?”

Hetsksat me like I’m a child who needs correcting.

Malice drips from his metaphorically forked tongue.

I’m not a malicious person but this one time I wish the floor would open up and the devil would pull this snake back into the pits of hell where he belongs.

I scrunch my nose in disgust. “First love? You mean the nightmare I barely escaped, right? You’ll never be any woman’s true love,” I retort hoarsely, barely containing the need to drive the nearest sharp item through his heart. Past fear, regret and bile burn my vocal chords.

He takes a step in my direction, sending a wave of fear crashing over me. Dread drops into my stomach.

My hand flies up as if I can snatch magical powers out of thin air to send my trash flying out of the nearest window.

I’m not that fortunate.

“Stay the fuck away from me,” I warn. I have zero defenses against this asshole, but I'm not beneath tearing my stiletto off and using it to make him bleed.

William’s eyes narrow on me. Arrogance pulls the bastard’s shoulder back and forces his chin high. Like his body is physically saying, “how dare I tell him what to do.”

For every step I take in reverse, the snake who tried to off me in the dead of night two years ago slithers closer. My vision blurs and I’m right back to the night I nearly died because of this man’s greed, rage and lack of respect for another person’s life.

I glance around the lounge to see who I can put between me and my psycho ex but it seems everyone is gone. Even the freaking bartender is nowhere in sight.

A blonde clings to his left arm while another snuggles into his right. Both look at me like they want to fight me for the right to have him all to themselves.

I make eye contact with them. “He’s all yours. Be warned though, if you have an ounce of decency in your bones, he will try to cut it out of you and then leave you bleeding out on the kitchen floor. Ask me. I have the scar to prove it.”

Both blondes drop their attitudes at the same time and look up at their date with disbelief.

“Baby, she’s lying, right?”

I snort. “I wish.”

“You little lying bitch.” Fury washes over his features. The black of his pupils fade into the darkness of his irises. I can’t believe I thought he had sexy eyes at one time.

“I’m lying, huh? Sure. Check the police reports. Ask Detective Lafleur from the New Orleans police department how untrue all my blood on the kitchen floor was. Or how unreal my hospital stay was.”

“They didn’t find anything and never will.”

I take another step back to put more distance between us from the spiteful man looking to ruin me in every way he can think of.

Baby blues swing up to Lucifer in human form. “William, baby. What is this woman talking about?”

Baby?My stomach rolls.

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