Page 142 of Vicious Addictions

“Because why?”

“Because I didn’t like feeling fucking helpless wondering if you were dead or alive.”

“So let me get this straight, you couldn’t stand feeling terrified for my safety for one day, but when I went through the same experience with you back in London—for years, might I add—it was perfectly acceptable to you? What gives you the right to be so vocal about such thingsnowwhen I had to endure them in silence?”

“Fair point.” I exhale, knowing damn well she’s right.

Back in London, Mina had no idea what I was up to during the week. She had to wait until the weekend just to confirm I wasn’t lying dead somewhere, especially in the early days of our relationship. It wasn’t until things turned physical that I gave up my London flat and made the manor in Kent my official home.

Aside from her kidnapping, I always knew Mina was safe. She didn’t have that same luxury when it came to me.

“Still, would it hurt to let me and my crew help you? There’s no shame in relying on your friends when you need them most.”

“We’re not friends,” she replies dryly.

“We were once.”

“You were a great many things once. Not anymore.”

“Fuck, Mina. Are you going to give me the fucking cold shoulder the entire time you’re here?”

This time, she turns to face me head-on, her expression hard and cruel.

“And how exactly do you think you should be treated? I don’t know you.”

“You know me, Mina. You, more than anyone, knows me!”

She merely scoffs.

“This is what I know, Jude. That you’re a liar. A manipulator. A weak man still scrambling to earn his daddy’s approval. You would do just about anything—lie, cheat, steal—and wrong everyone who ever cared for you to get it. This is what I know.”

“You’re wrong.” I shake my head vehemently. “It was never about my father’s approval. It was always about wanting to be worthy of my birthright. You know this, Mina.”

“Right. Birthright. How could I forget?” she mocks. “Tell me, does your birthright keep you warm at night?”

I thin my lips, only for her to lean in until our faces are inches apart.

“You know what keeps me warm at night?” She breathes huskily, seductively. “My fiancée.”

When she sees the hatred in my eyes, she pulls away and leans back in her chair, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

I don’t dare reply to that. If I do, I might just punch my fist into a wall. It would hurt less than the image she just planted into my brain.

So, I shove my hand into my pocket instead and pretend not to be eviscerated by her sharp tongue.

“That? What the hell is that?” she asks after a long bout of silence.

“You’ll have to be more specific, Mina. I’m not a mind reader,” I respond, still feeling far too raw to be amicable with her right now.

“I’m talking about this new tic you’ve picked up,” she says, staring at my hand moving about my pocket. “What exactly are you fiddling with? Every time I see you now, you’re always fiddling with whatever toy you have in there,” she explains, curiosity edged in her voice.

That’s the Mina I know, always too curious for her own good.

“It’s nothing,” I lie.

“You’re lying. You should have figured out by now that I can always tell when you’re lying?”

“Let it go, Mina,” I snap, tired of hearing that she doesn’t believe me.

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