Page 133 of Vicious Addictions

“Yes, you fucking do,” he growls.

“Is that guilt gnawing at you, Jude? Afraid your father will hate you even more when he discovers you played him?”

“I did what I thought was right at the time.”

“Are you really using the twenty-twenty-hindsight excuse to explain your poor behavior?” I scoff.

“Damn it, Mina! You told me not to come back, remember! You said that if I left, we were as good as done. The fuck was I supposed to do?”

Fight!

You were supposed to fight for me!

Fight for what we had!

But I don’t tell him that.

Instead, I turn my emotions off and tilt my head to the chess board.

“Is that why you gave up playing? Or did you just forget how?” I taunt.

Jude takes one look at the chess board, acknowledging the fatal mistake his father made, and releases his grip on me. He then shows me the moves he would have made to guarantee his win by sacrificing his queen. The move hurts me more than he could possibly imagine.

“There! Satisfied? I didn’t forget. How could I when I dream of chess moves?” he confesses, his eyes searching mine, desperate for any sign that I understand what he’s trying to tell me.

But I don’t.

Not when my gaze remains locked on the queen chess piece, pushed aside, sacrificed for his own gain.

Just like he did to me.

Just like he did with my heart.

“You might not have forgotten how to play the game, Jude Romano, but it’s painfully clear you still have a lot to learn.”

And with that, I turn my back on him as easily as he turned his back on our love.

Chapter 22

Jude

“You look nervous, kid,” Dom mumbles under his breath so the othercaposin the meeting room don’t hear him.

“You’re seeing things, old man,” I retort, a little too harshly for him to be wrong about my nerves.

The amused chuckle he lets out has me cracking my neck from side to side to ease the tension laying heavy on my shoulders.

He’s right. I am nervous, but not for the reasons he thinks.

It’s not the many anxiouscaposthat are here at the late Great-Uncle Sal’s mansion that are causing my anxiety to spike up, but the one girl—or woman, as she’s prone to remind me—who still hasn’t shown up to my father’s meeting that gives me pause.

Where the fuck are you, Mina?

If she’s a no-show because of our little fight the other day after dinner, sooner or later, my father will start asking questions in regards to her hatred of me and accuse me of fucking withhisbusiness.

He already suspected something was up when he offered my men and me to aid her rescue mission and got a second resounding no for his troubles.

If I’m honest with myself, that’s the real reason why I’m on edge.

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