Page 47 of Heart of a Devil

“Yes, completely crazy,” I say quietly but firmly. “And I don’t ever want to hear you talk about it again. In fact, don’t even think about it.”

He stares at me, obviously shocked by my cold tone, and a fire blazes to life in his eyes. “What? Why? And since when do you get to tell me what to think?”

“Since you started making plans formybody, you chauvinistic asshole.” I stand up and slam my hands on thekitchen table, and he follows suit. Within seconds, we’re glaring at each other like mortal enemies. This really was not what I needed tonight, and telling him about my meeting with Patrick Galway and showing him the photos is becoming less and less appealing.

“That’s not fair, and you bloody know it. I wasn’t making plans for your body. I was trying to have a conversation with you. Is it so fucking bad that I want to discuss the possibility of starting a family with you?”

“Well, that shows how little you actually know me, doesn’t it, Sebastian? Just because a woman is young enough to have kids doesn’t mean she wants them or needs them. Not every woman thinks her life is incomplete if some big, strong man doesn’t fill her with his seed. If you’re with me because you’re looking for a prized heifer to breed the next generation of Donovans, you’re going to be very disappointed.”

I grab my coat and pull it on. I’m angry and sad, and I’m not going to stop being either of those things if I stay here with him. I’m a mess and I need to leave.

“Where the fuck are you going?” he shouts, trying to block my way.

“Anywhere away from you. Now get out of my way before I pepper spray you. This isn’t a game—I mean it, Seb. Let me past, right now. And lock the door when I’m gone.”

He steps to one side, his face contorted with fury. “Be my fucking guest, Lauren.”

Chapter

Twenty-Five

LAUREN

Istorm out of the house in tears, tears that I managed to control until my back was turned. I didn’t want him to see me like this. I didn’t want to talk about why I was so upset, or why I was so shocked by his suggestion. I’m sick of feeling vulnerable, and I need to go back to my default setting: When the going gets tough, Lauren gets going.

It’s all been too much today, and it’s time for me to lick my wounds. Once he calms down from our fight, he will be hurt that I walked out instead of staying and “having a good scrap,” as he calls it. He’s a man who would rather see a fight through to its conclusion than let it fester. Normally, I like that about him, but I had no choice but to leave. It’s not forever, I tell myself. I will call him later and explain. Maybe I’ll come back or invite him over, and we can get right to the make-up sex.

Or maybe not. It’s possible I’m too broken for all of this domestic crap. That I’m not cut out for a life like this, with a partner and routines and babies. Part of me wonders if I can’t ever be fixed because part of me will always be halfway out the door.

I walk briskly down the street, keeping a constant eye on my surroundings but noticing nobody lurking, watching, or in aparked car. Seb can look after himself, but he’s got the baby with him, so I need to make sure. The photos indicate that Torres is only interested in me, but I won’t risk any collateral damage.

It’s raining again, which is fine by me as it washes away my tears and suits my mood. I decide to get the bus back to my part of town, purely to delay getting there. Once I’m home, I’ll have to think about cameras and surveillance and the fact that my life doesn’t feel like my own anymore. Sure, I can hide in the bedroom, but doing that makes me feel worse. I curse the fact that I was born a Montoya, that I ever crossed paths with Carlos. That no matter how hard I try, I can never completely sever the ties that bind me to them.

On the bus, I force myself to handle the necessary chore I’ve been dreading and message Jax and Alejandro, telling them I don’t think Diego Torres is in Istanbul.

The first response comes from Alejandro.

Are you safe?

Then, my phone dings with a message from Jax.

Are you with Sebastian?

Fuck that. I can look after myself. I send the same response to both of them:

I’m safe, don’t worry.

The other people on the bus all look like they have ordinary lives. Like they’re going to or from work, maybe headed for a night out with friends, or whatever it is that normal people do. None of them are constantly looking over their shoulders, checking for a psycho stalker while messaging their Mafia boss relatives. Shit, maybe they are. Who knows? Not like I can tellfrom looking. I probably look pretty normal from the outside too.

I get off at my stop and walk through the rain toward my apartment. Every bar and café I pass seems to be full of lovey-dovey couples laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Other people make that shit look so easy, and I wish I could be one of them. I wish I weren’t so fucking messy.

This whole love thing is still so new to me, and I’m discovering that the amazing highs come with their share of remarkable lows. Loving someone means being at least a little bit scared of losing them. Seb didn’t deserve my outburst tonight.

Yes, I was stressed because of what happened with Patrick Galway. Sure, I was deeply unnerved by seeing photos taken of me by a stalker. And yeah, Sebastian was a presumptuous ass when he talked about us starting a family.

But he didn’t know about the first two things, and as for the third… Well, was he being unreasonable? Was he being malicious? Was he actually being a chauvinistic asshole? No, he wasn’t, but the cumulative effect was too much.

I reach my apartment building and glance around cautiously, paying particular attention to the small café across the street. Some of the pictures of me were taken from that angle. The place is closed, windows dark, and there’s no sign of anybody loitering nearby.

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