Page 40 of Vermilion Desire

A crazed expression appears on Braxton’s face, and I push Scarletta’s chair back, so I’m the closest to him. “Finish it.”

“What?” she asks, amber eyes blinking in confusion.

“You’re not doing it right. Finish that fucking black! It needs to match!” Braxton shouts, slamming his hand on the table.

“I don’t want to.” Scarletta wrinkles her nose, and she incites another outburst from him.

Braxton jumps up from his chair, the metal screeching across the floor. “Fucking do it!”

I wrap a hand around her elbow, jerking her away from the hostile man and putting her behind me while I curl my other hand into a fist. One more move on his part and I will have to use physical force to make him settle down.

Cal takes the prosecutor behind him while he gets ready to subdue Berkshire boy.

“There it is, that little tingle in your leg. It’s coming, and you know it. Why don’t you walk over here and prove my point?” Scarletta taunts, and she’s playing a dangerous game.

“We are done here!” the defense lawyer demands this interview to be done.

“Do you want to know what the new findings are right now? It might come in handy if you decide to approach the cure yourself since you have money, and you can most likely control your research from a cell.” My baby needs a lesson on knowing when to hold back because danger is just about to blast in her face.

“I’ll sign whatever the hell you want. Just tell me what the cure is!”

Everyone shakily shudders, the next breath losing to the shock in our system. The defeat on his face is devastating as Braxton growls, teeth barring at us with a twitch on his lips—but only one side of his face is moving.

“Wait—!”

He glares at his lawyer. “Shut the fuck up!”

“This is unethical! You can’t threaten him by withholding his chance to survive! You have to save him!” His lawyer proves to be a decent one when he still wants to protect his client, or rather his paycheck.

“Fuck! Just do what she says!” Braxton screams at his lawyer, and he spins his wild eyes to her.

“You bitch, I want that research result!”

“Sign first, rotten prince.” Scarletta calmly nudges her chin at the papers on the table.

He signs, scribbling and slamming the pen down. He shoves it toward the defense lawyer and has him look over it again. He reluctantly agrees, then gives it to the district attorney who looks it over.

“It is effective immediately.” The agreement from the tone of satisfaction in the prosecutor’s side feels downright miraculous.

It’s as if we could finally breathe from waiting for his moment.

“Good, good. My talented seniors have developed a beta-blocker that targets the specific type of adrenaline only Idée Fixe Syndrome patients have. The first phase has passed, and it is proven to work.” Scarletta bats her eyes with fake sympathy to Braxton.

“Would you like to be a guinea pig? It’ll hurt, but it will lower the outburst of your symptoms, so you’ll reduce the progression of the disease.”

Her words render everyone speechless as we watch the crumbling spirit of Braxton. He is just a shell of shock and defeat, knowing that he has to choose between his freedom and his life.

Even this side of Scarletta is loved by me. I’m not angry at her for toying with Braxton, but I don’t feel sorry for him either. He deserves every kind of torment thrown at him for putting Addison in more pain than a young woman should ever feel.

She giggles, depraved and insane. “Oh, please send the check to Earl Research Facility. My seniors will be conducting their research there, and the rate is quite expensive for equipment.”

Braxton’s eyes flash up, a moment of weakness and desperation until it’s covered by what’s left of his pride. “You have to promise me I’ll live.”

“We’re exploring the unknown here. Also, I can’t guarantee you anything when you’re in prison; you’re on your own with your perfection in a roach-infested cell.”

He sneers, “Fuck you, you fucking witch. You’re going to burn in Hell!”

“How does despair taste? It’s how Ms. Addison felt,” she sneers back, amber eyes glaring with fire.

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