Page 135 of Seeking Vengeance

His confusing suffering. His unsettling battle.

I want to soothe him and stab him all at once.

“Leave the suitcase.” He straightens, his order blanketed with a subtle level of control. “Go eat breakfast.”

I rage, wanting to yell at the top of my lungs. To claw at the severity in his eyes. To steal the oxygen from the air to dispel his intoxicating aftershave while suffocating us both.

“I’m not staying.” I swing back to the door and snatch at the handle, turning the metal toward freedom, erupting with relief when it opens.

He steps into me, the wall of pressure smothering my spine as he slams the wood shut with a chest-rattling snarl.

“I’ll scream,” I warn.

“You don’t want to do that.” He presses into me, his hard body grazing my ass.

The threat is clear in his voice. The pure conviction. But my blood doesn’t react in fear.

It warms.

My pulse throbs.

My body still reacts to our chemistry. Succumbing. Yearning.

“You’re threatening me?” I turn again, this time concentrating on my hatred when I look him in the eye.

He’s even closer now, our noses almost brushing as he intimidates me in the cage of his arms.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he purrs. “We’re not done, Layla.”

So be it.

I force a smile. Bat my lashes. Pray to God I’m not making another mistake. Then launch my knee at his groin, making direct impact.

Shock splashes his face. Eyes wide. Mouth, too.

He grunts.

Crumples.

My regret hits just as fast, the remorse heavy enough to suffocate.

I don’t let it consume me. I scramble for the door, swinging it wide, leaving the suitcase behind. I’m one step over the threshold when I’m viciously yanked backward by a painful grip on my upper arm, then dragged into an entirely different body.

“My turn,” Bishop seethes. “And let me warn you, I’m far less patient.”

31

Layla

I’m shovedonto the sofa, my suitcase left at the door, my cell confiscated.

Bishop scowls at me from a few feet away, the minutes passing in silence until Matthew limps into the living room. His shoulders hunch as he makes his way to the kitchen to lean heavily into the island counter.

“I knew we had secrets, but I underestimated just how many.” His voice is graveled as he clings to the marble, his face now a paler shade of sun-kissed beauty. “You should’ve told me your grievance with the Costas had nothing to do with dating Remy or Salvatore.”

I remain quiet, my hands in my lap, my eyes glaring in rage.

“What reason did you have to keep the details of your daughter’s abduction and husband’s murder from me?”

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