Page 122 of Ruthless Oath

“You’re awake,” Danny said from a chair in the corner of the room.

I focused on his angelic features, knowing he was anything but. There was evil inside those piercing blue eyes of his. I had seen it.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Awful.”

“I’ve been checking on you every couple of hours to make sure you didn’t die in your sleep.” He put his phone into his pocket. “Concussions can be deadly.”

“You wouldn’t have had to do that if you didn’t hit me so hard.” I touched my swollen cheek. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I had to get you under control. You were acting crazy. I wasn’t in the mood for your nonsense.” He got up and came toward me.

“Don’t.” I held up my hand. “Don’t come near me.”

“As long as you keep your hands to yourself, I’ll keep mine away from your face. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Liar.

“Here.” He picked up a glass from the coffee table. “Drink this.”

“What is it?”

“Water.”

I peered into the glass and examined the contents, which appeared to be water, but what else was in it?

“You’ve been taking small sips all night,” he said. “You were just too out of it to remember.”

“I don’t trust you.” What if he had been drugging me and that was why I was so groggy?

“I’ll drink some if that makes you feel better.” He took a sip from the glass. “It’s fine, see.”

I gazed up at him, still not believing he wouldn’t drug me.

“You’re a lot bigger than me. That little sip wouldn’t do much to you.”

“Why would I slip you something?” He handed me the glass. “If I want to knock you out, we already know I can do that. I don’t need drugs.”

That made sense. I was thirsty, so I took a long sip from the room-temperature tap water. I preferred sparkling water with a lemon twist, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. The liquid coated my dry mouth and throat, but I was still thirsty.

“Let’s start over,” he said.

“If you mean from the day we met and you don’t acknowledge me this time, I’m in.”

“That blow to your head didn’t cause you to lose any of your edge, I see.”

“You had no right to hit me. When my father finds out you put your hands on me, he’s going to kill you.”

“You shouldn’t have struggled,” he said. “You were out of control. Your father knows how difficult you are. He’ll understand that I did what I had to do to keep you safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“Yourself.”

“I want to go home.” I placed the glass on the table. “I want to see my mother.”

Why had she moved back in with my father? They despised one another.

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