Page 89 of Vengeful Lies

CHAPTER 47

Jewel

He’s silent on the drive, not providing me with any explanation. I note that it’s not just his lip that’s been split but his cheek as well. His shirt is torn at the shoulder, and the unapproachable energy that crackles around him is palpable.

I don’t want to push any further because part of me wonders if it’s because of my rejection of him. Earlier tonight, he asked if this thing between us could be real. But I’m too scared of the prospect of rejection, to be laughed at for falling for his mind games, to genuinely believe it could be. This is probably because Eli feels like his father is too close to discovering the truth. If they know our marriage is a sham, who knows how they’ll react. It’s best for both of us if I squash the delusional thought of us being together. Eli’s simply covering his tracks, and I’m over here fooling myself that this man might actually care for me.

I can’t tell Eli about the text message. The moment I do, I make myself vulnerable. He might kill me right on the spot.

I try not to laugh at him, mentioning that he was trying to protect me.

Don’t fall for it, Jewel.

The second he realizes I might really kill him, he’ll get rid of me.

I either use the element of surprise to my advantage or I… Or I what? Don’t make the hit?

My thoughts get away from me as I consider what my future might look like, and I immediately shut it down. I can’t fantasize about these types of things. It’s too cruel. I’m expected to look through a scope and shoot him in a matter of days. No, I don’t even have my favorite sniper rifle. I’ll have to do it close-up with my handgun so he’ll know exactly who his Grim Reaper is.

An uneasy feeling runs through me, and I try to shove it away.

An hour later, we’re on the outskirts of the city in a neighborhood I’m not familiar with. We stand in front of an abandoned club. There are a few people on the streets, and I don’t feel all that out of place wearing a simple outfit of tracksuit pants and a baggy sweatshirt.

And my gun.

Gosh, how I have missed my gun.

I still don’t say anything as Eli stares at the vacant building. I wait for him to… I’m not entirely sure yet.

“I want this to be the next hot spot,” he says with determination.

“What do you mean?” I ask, glancing around. This isn’t a popular area; in actuality, it’s considered a relatively bad area.

“I bought this building two years ago, and it’s just been sitting here. I want to change this neighborhood. I want to make it mine.”

“But your father already basically owns half the city,” I say. Crue Monti doesn’t physically own the businesses or property; he owns those who own the businesses and property, which is a much better position to be in.

“I don’t want to be compared to my father. I want to own everything. To prove to everyone that I am more than capable of adding to my family’s success.”

“That’s very ambitious of you,” I reply cautiously, still unsure as to why he brought us out here.

“I wanted to show you so you understand how important it is that I have a wife by my side who can handle the position and the risks involved.”

I angle my head toward him, trying my hardest not to roll my eyes. He’s laying it on thick tonight. But what he’s envisioning isn’t something that can happen. I’ve literally received the go-ahead for the hit, and it’s scheduled for two weeks before our wedding day. Which is so absurd.

“Eli, you were the one who made this a temporary agreement. Perhaps you should’ve chosen arealwife.”

“And an agreement can always be renegotiated. I won’t stand for my father threatening you. You have proved yourself in so many ways that you’re the perfect candidate for me.”

I scoff. “Why? Because I can fit your cock in my mouth?” I try to derail his intensity because I know there’s something off about him tonight, and I’m still not sure why he’s brought me here. I want him to come back to me like the Eli I know. He’s easier to keep at a distance that way.

But these things he’s saying, the way he’s talking about us having arealfuture, hurt too much to consider it as a possibility. I’ve denied myself that fantasy because it’s been the one thing that’s kept me alive all these years.

I want to believe him, but I can’t risk exposing myself and being discarded once again. I can’t take the risk of being humiliated by admitting what I’m feeling inside.

Love is not unconditional.

Nor is it nurturing or kind.

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