Page 73 of Ruthless Oath

“My life wouldn’t be so difficult right now if you had.”

Ouch.That’s not the response you want to hear from the man you gave your virginity to. No matter how hot he is.

I turned the page, focusing on the font instead of the words. Aggravating him felt good.

“Do you have to read that now?” he asked.

“What else should I do?” I flipped another page, glancing at him before returning my attention to the book I had no interest in.

“You could stop acting like a brat.” He snatched the book out of my hands and tossed it across the porch. “You could make my life easier for five fucking minutes.”

“I want a phone. A purple one with a matching case.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t have one,” he said. “Why do you need one?”

“Everyone needs a fucking phone.”

“Hey!” He slammed his fist on the table. “Watch your mouth.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re a mob boss who kills people for a living, and I can’t throw an occasional f-bomb to voice my frustration?”

“I’m a legitimate businessman who owns a reputable car dealership, one that took a pretty large hit last night.” He pointed at me. “I don’t like your foul mouth.”

“There are plenty of things I don’t like about you. And if you’re so legitimate, why can’t I have a phone?”

“Why are you so spoiled?”

“Let me use yours to call my mother,” I said. “This has gone on long enough. Don’t you think she’s worried about me?”

“If she knows you well enough, she probably thinks you’re already dead. It’s a miracle I haven’t killed you yet.”

“You’re a real prince. The fact that you would joke about killing me proves who you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re callous,” I said.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“How could I? You don’t tell me anything.”

“I tell you what you need to know,” he said.

“How do you think your mother would feel if you went missing and she couldn’t get in touch with you?”

“My mother hasn’t gotten in touch with me in over ten years because she’s fucking dead.” He stood, knocking the chair into the wall. “Do you have any other stupid questions you want to ask me?”

“I didn’t literally mean your mother.” Maybe that was a bad example. “I’m just trying to get you to understand where I’m coming from.”

He turned his back and stared out the screen at the gray sky.

I joined him, placing my hand on his tense shoulder. “I’m sorry I brought up your mother. You probably miss her.”

“This has nothing to do with her, how she died, or whatever you’re imagining.”

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