Page 39 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

“Don’t you dare put this on her,” Jasmine snaps, her voice rising. “You’re just using this ‘protection’ excuse to bulldoze her life. She doesn’t want to go with you, and you should respect that.”

“Enough.” Vincent’s voice is icy and final. “I’m not arguing with you about this. If you’re not going to help, Jasmine, then leave.”

Jasmine’s head snaps back slightly, her expression twisting with disbelief. “Are you serious right now? I will put my foot so far up your ass that you-”

“I promise you, you don’t want to finish that statement.” Damien growls.

“Oh, yeah? You want to try me?” Jasmine barks, tension in every one of her muscles and I can’t help but love her for it.

My voice is shaky as I speak, barely above a whisper. “Jasmine… I got this.”

Her mouth falls open, hurt flashing across her face. “Willow…”

“Please,” I murmur, my voice breaking. “I got this. I promise.”

For a moment, she looks like she might refuse, but then she exhales sharply, throwing one last venomous glare at Vincent. “Fine. But this isn’t over.” She grabs her plate of angel food cake and storms up the stairs, my bedroom door slamming so loud we can hear it downstairs.

The silence that follows is deafening. I turn back to Vincent and Damien, my chest heaving with barely contained emotion. “Happy now?” My voice cracks, and I hate how vulnerable I sound.

Vincent doesn’t respond, his expression unreadable. Damien finally turns, his gaze softer but no less frustratingly composed. “It’s for the best, Willow.”

I shake my head, the tears finally spilling over. “No, it’s foryourbest,” I hiss, my voice trembling. “Not mine.”

Vincent’s sharp blueeyes remain locked on me, his expression unyielding and cold. “You can cry all you want, Willow, but it doesn’t change the facts. This is happening.”

His words slice through me, and my fists clench at my sides as I glare at him. “Why do you care so much? I am just a contract to you. I am Cast’s pet and your pawn, just because you call me Princess don’t act like this isn’t just a transaction. Why do you insist on making it look like…”

I catch the words in my throat. My blood boiling but nothing can make me say to Vincent Beaumont that he can’t keep doing this, or I am going to fall in love with him. I mean I already am in a lot of ways, but he can’t know that, and I can’t say it.

“Make it look like what, Princess? Like I care about you?” His voice is barely above a whisper, and dripping so much devotion my knees go weak. “Because I do. I think about you all the time, and last week you ignored me. It was hell.”

Despite my base instinct to swoon, I take a deliberate step back and narrow my gaze. “So, this is about me ignoring you, isn’t it?”

“What?” Vincent gapes, his tone tinged with disbelief. “No! This is about me wanting you to be safe, Willow.”

“Safe,” I repeat, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “and completely unable to have my own space. What’s next, Vincent? Are you going to make me crawl around your mansion and blow every Tom, Dick, and Harry you point to?”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Vincent’s eyes darken, the blue nearly eclipsed by the sheer intensity of his pupils. His jaw clenches, and I can see the vein in his neck bulging as he steps forward, towering over me. His voice is a low, dangerous growl when he speaks.

“Princess, if you suck anyone’s dick, it’ll be Damien’s, Cast’s, or mine. No one else.”

I blink, stunned, the sheer audacity of his words freezing me in place. Then, despite the adrenaline rushing through my veins, I force myself to smirk. “Wow, Vinny,” I mock, lifting my chin. “So selfish.”

Before he can respond, Damien steps in, placing a firm hand on Vincent’s shoulder and yanking him back with enough force to create space between us. His voice is sharp, his eyes filled with warning. “Vincent, herfatheris in the next room. You can’t have her if her father despises you, and me.”

Vincent jerks back as if splashed with cold water, his head snapping toward Damien. For a moment, his expression is conflicted—still fuming, but there’s a flicker of shame beneath the fury. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.

“Go wait in the car,” Damien says, his voice low but leaving no room for argument.

Vincent hesitates, his gaze darting between Damien and me. His lips press into a thin line before he turns on his heel and storms out, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoes through the house, and I flinch, my chest heaving from the confrontation.

“Willow,” Damien’s voice comes out uncharacteristically soft.

“What?” The tension in the room eases just slightly, but my chest is still tight as I wipe at my tear-streaked cheeks.

Damien turns to me, leaning against the counter with a tired sigh. “You didn’t have to push him so hard, you know.”

I let out a bitter laugh, crossing my arms. “Push him? He’s the one bulldozing into my life like he owns it. What’s his problem?”

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