Page 54 of Envy

“What did you see?” His voice is controlled, but there’s a sharpness beneath the surface.

I expected guilt.

But all I see is anger.

Why would he be angry? That I know what he was up to? That I think he’s full of shit when he insists Cassie and he aren’t serious?

“I saw what I needed to see,” I say, my voice hollow. “I read what I needed to read in the messages you sent.”

His jaw tightens.

“I’m just a puppet to you. A toy for your dog. I’m not important. So cut the shit and just get it over with. It wasn’t like I didn’t expect it.”

I push myself to my feet, chin high, challenging him.

“You can drop the nice-guy act and be the monster we both know you are.”

His nostrils flare.

His chest rises and falls with deep, measured breaths.

“Is that what you think?” His voice is low, dangerous, laced with something I can’t decipher.

Anger seeps into his expression, into the hard set of his mouth, the rigid lines of his posture.

I brace myself. Because I know what happens next. I’ve seen it before. My reality is about to shatter.

And I’ll be at the mercy of the monster.

“Let’s go,” he says with a finality that leaves no room for argument—like I’m a child who needs to be scolded for making the wrong assumption.

But I know what I saw.

I follow him to the parking lot, stopping when he halts in front of a sleek black Range Rover. I don’t have to ask whose car it is—this is one of many parked inside his massive garage.

“You’re driving.”

I freeze in front of the hood. My panic must be written all over my face because he frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know how,” I admit. “I don’t have a driver’s license.”

His jaw tightens. “John really wanted you to be clueless, huh?”

Dumb is more like it—but at least he’s finally catching on.

“Get in.”

My eyes widen. “I can’t.”

Letting out a frustrated growl, he walks around to the driver’s side, yanks the door open, and gives me a look that makes my stomach drop. “Get in the fucking car.”

I don’t argue.

As I step forward, he slides into the driver’s seat and grabs my waist, lifting me onto his lap like I weigh nothing.

A gasp catches in my throat. The heat of his muscled thighs burns through my tights, igniting those damn butterflies in my stomach. My body betrays me every time he’s near, and no matter how hard I try to push it down, the sensation lingers.

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