Page 22 of Alliance

I’m damaged goods. Depressed and pathetic with a slight drinking problem.

If he wanted a pretty wife, he should have looked elsewhere.

“Lana!” my mother calls from downstairs, her voice high pitched and already filled with annoyance. That’s all I am to her, another problem, another issue she needs to handle.

I take my sweet time heading for the stairs, not really caring how much of a rush she’s in.

The liquor has given me a false sense of bravery.

Davis is standing at the bottom of the stairs, his hands tucked into his pockets while he listens to my mother drone on. In another life, I might find him handsome. With his honey-colored hair and southern drawl, he has a charming look playing around.

But I know underneath that suit and pretty face, there’s a monster lurking in the shadows.

As if on cue, my arms throb. The marks he left on me haven’t hurt in days, but it’s like my body knows he’s here and is protesting. The ache in my heart practically screams at me.Run, stupid. Why are you walking toward a predator?

And that’s what Davis LaFontaine is.

A predator.

No matter how nice his clothes are or how charming he appears, that man is bad news.

He looks disappointed when he sees me coming down the stairs. His bold eyes rake over me, taking in the faint marks on my arms, my messy hair, and bare feet. Dark eyes stare into mine and I think he’s looking for something, some sign that I’m not about to throw myself over the balcony railing.

If only he knew how badly I wanted to.

I don’t know why I couldn’t do it. I tried to swing my legs over the metal, tried to find a sick sense of satisfaction in killing myself the same way Lily did. But I couldn’t do it. My legs stayed glued to the patio until I finally collapsed onto the tiled surface and cried.

Even with the desire to die flooding my system, I couldn’t do it.

I was weak.

“Lana,” Davis says, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.

My mother scowls when she sees me, her face twisting as if seeing me in this dress is actually painful. “What happened to the outfit I put out for you?” she questions, trying and failing to hide the anger in her tone.

I shrug. “I wanted to wear this, it lets my arms breathe.”

Davis’ lips pull into a straight line at my words. Clearly they hit a nerve. I feel proud of myself for the small jab. A new version of Lana has stepped forward, drunk Lana, and she doesn’t cower. Or maybe it’s just that she doesn’t care anymore. I’ve run out of fucks to give.

I move past my fiancé and my mother, heading toward our formal dining room.

“Carlotta.” I hear Davis’ smooth voice as he turns to my mother. “Can I have a second alone with your daughter?”

“Sure.” I don’t turn around to watch my mother leave, instead I keep moving forward. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” she tells him. “Damien should be home shortly.”

Before she’s even gone into the kitchen, I can feel Davis stalking toward me. He feels like an invisible weight, his presence looming over me. His fingers wrap around my arm to stall my movement.

I’m weak when it comes to Davis. Can’t seem to hold on my own as he squeezes my arm in his hand and drags me back to him.

Tears burn at the edges of my eyes, but I refuse to cry for this monster. He spins me around and grips both of my arms, forcing me to face him.

“You look like shit,” he growls.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Hmm? You need to take care of yourself, and if you can’t do that, I’ll send someone over here to do it. Do you need to be force-fed, Lana?” He looks delighted while he berates me. I think he gets off on demeaning me.

“When you saw her…” I can’t help the words that rush from my lips, the question that’s on the tip of my tongue. “You saidthat’s a shame, but you didn’t care.”

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