Page 73 of Sardonic Burn

“Would you be okay if you were in my shoes and had witnessed that?”

I wince.

“Listen.” I take a step forward. “You and I had an agreement. After the wedding, this won’t be happening again.”

It all happened too quickly.

I didn’t have the time to understand what I did a moment ago with the man I’m sworn to hate until the day I die. Anger builds inside of me, and it’s no one’s fault but my own. Taking it out on Dylan won’t change anything.

It won’t change the fact that I allowed Hudson De Santis to fuck me in the restroom of a pretty venue with both of our families a wall away from us.

Dylan takes a deep breath.

“That agreement didn’t include Hudson De Santis.”

“It didn’t exclude him, either.”

Dylan takes in a deep breath and closes the gap between us. Softly, he strokes my cheek and tries to wipe away the mascara from underneath my eyes with his thumb.

“I’m not the one to ever question you, Noah.” His voice drops to a whisper. “But he will hurt you. He isn’t one of your casual flings. He’s someone who wants you dead. And you should want him dead, too.”

“I do. What you saw was nothing but a monumental mistake. It won’t happen again.”

Something twitches in my stomach as the words leave my mouth. A part of me truly wants to run away and not have to face Hudson after what happened, whereas the other part is yearning for it to happen again.

How did it all start?

Whendid it all start?

When did the hatred that filled my mind, body, and soul become something much deeper than that? Something that I never should even think of.

“Does he know that?”

I tilt my head to the side. “It’s irrelevant. Now, open the door. You and I need to talk.”

Dylan shakes his head. “We’ll talk at your place. I have something to show you, too.”

I’m questioning him, but he doesn’t respond. It takes us thirty minutes to reach my home, and it’s the longest thirty minutes of my life. The air around us is tense and no matterhow much I try to pry into what the fuck just happened, he’s not responding.

I’m overwhelmed, and I’m ashamed for all the wrong reasons.

Instead of feeling disgust and pure revolt, I’m more embarrassed that I was caught. Caught with the man who makes my blood boil. The man who I’d love nothing more than to see dead with a bullet between his eyes.

And I’m afraid that Dylan sees that, too.

He barely glances at me as we walk toward my door. He uses his key and unlocks it, stepping inside and turning the lights on. There’s a little note for me; it was probably slid beneath the door while I was away.

Dylan bends to pick it up, but I’m quicker.

If it’s Lucas, then things are going terribly wrong, and it’s for my eyes only. Dylan raises a brow, silently questioning me, but I only fold the piece of paper in my hands and squeeze it tightly.

Dylan loosens his tie and takes off his jacket, throwing it to the couch. He slumps, and his hands immediately start shaking. His eyes widen, lip trembling as he stares at me.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” he says through a choked whisper. “I just provoked Hudson De Santis. Oh my god.” He buries his hands in his face.

“Your act was top notch, though.”

He immediately looks up, terror on his face. “Is this a joke to you? He’ll kill me.”

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