Page 161 of Beautiful Venom

“You’re the one who had your fucking arm around Osborn, Dahlia.”

“And Isabella had her claws all over you.” She narrows her eyes. “Did you fuck her?”

“You think there’s another woman who can handle me?”

A smug look covers her features. “Well, you better remember that.”

I fist her hair and jerk her back. “And you better remember you’re fucking mine.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“And if this is an attempt to weasel your way into Vencor again, that’s out of the question.”

Her throat works up and down and I release her hair.

“I understand.”

Silence beats like a presence as she shifts. “Kane?”

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you ask me about my real reason for wanting to get in? You must’ve figured out it’s not for some vain purpose like status or power.”

“If I ask, will you tell me?”

“Maybe one day.”

I nod.

She doesn’t need to tell me. Not really.

Because it doesn’t matter. Now that she’s mine, nothing and no one will change it.

“I just want you to know I didn’t mean to use you.” She swallows. “Maybe that was true initially, but I just want to make this thing between us work right now.”

“Me, too, Dahlia.” I stroke her back. “Me, too.”

She smiles, her eyes so bright, I want to fucking engrave them in me. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“What’s with this all of a sudden?”

“I want to get to know you better. I’ll go first. When I was younger, I wanted to be a rich lawyer who used my money to do as many pro bono cases as possible. I wanted to focus on those who were failed by the system.”

“But you chose medicine. Why?”

“Because Violet has always had poor health. I wanted to take care of her.” A sheen of sadness flickers in her eyes, turning them a turbulent yellow. “Not that it matters much right now.”

“How did you come to care about a non-blood-related person this much?”

“Vi is my world. You don’t need blood to care. If anything, some blood relations are like a curse.”

“Touché.”

“I didn’t mean to?—”

“It’s fine. You wanted to know something about me? My father considers me a machine instead of a son.” The words carry in the silence, loud and heavy. “I’m not allowed to lose, mess up, or humiliate the Davenport name. If I do, he’ll make sure I remember it, preferably with a physical or psychological scar.”

Dahlia shifts until her face is close to mine. “Can’t you cut off your relationship with him?”

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