Page 27 of Ruthless Redemption

“What’s wrong,amore mio? Can’t find the words to ask for what you need?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” I smile and raise the shirts Bishop gave me. “I’ve got all I need right here. It doesn’t get much better than being able to wear an attractive man’s clothes.”

Matthew continues to grin, only now it’s brittle. Forced.

“I’m going to get dressed.” I wink at him. “I’m looking forward to smelling like your best friend all day.”

8

MATTHEW

She saunters into her room,my jacket dwarfing her frame as she shuts the door behind her, then yanks the curtain closed.

It takes all my control to remain in place. To not stalk after her. To stop myself from killing Bishop.

“Jesus Christ.” He lights a cigarette and takes a drag. “It didn’t take her long to throw me under the fucking bus.”

“Why did you give her your clothes?” I keep my voice level, not allowing a hint of jealousy to spill free.

“I thought that was the better alternative to seeing her tits again.” He keeps his back to me as he takes another long drag, his attention on the horizon. “Was I wrong?”

I clench my teeth, picturing her in his shirt, the smell of his aftershave on her skin. Yes, it’s a better alternative, butmyclothes would’ve been preferred.Myscent.

I move to his side, resting my ass against the railing, my gaze remaining on her door. “You’re smoking again.”

“Desperate times,” he mutters.

I cringe. I haven’t seen him succumb in years. Not since we were in the trenches with Lorenzo. “Has a set of tits got you running scared? I would’ve thought you weren’t so easy to spook.”

He scoffs. “It’s not the tits. It’s the motherfucker who owns them.”

I don’t own them. Or her. Maybe I had at one point, but nothing of hers is mine now, and I’m not sure if it ever will be again.

Her hatred is impenetrable. I hadn’t wanted to believe it, especially last night while her pussy had clamped around my thumb, her arousal dripping to coat my hand. I’d thought I was winning her over. That desire would be the toppling point for her anger. But she’d walked from the living room with just as much vehement superiority as she’d had when she entered.

“Why are you taunting her?” He pushes from the railing to turn to me. “I just told her to quit doing the same thing, then you waltz out here to start shit again.”

I don’t know.

There’s no strategy. I’m riding the waves here. Up one minute. Free-falling the next.

“Answer me,” he grates. “Tell me why we’re here. Whyshe’shere.” He glances toward Layla’s room and lowers his voice. “What did you say to her brother? Why did he agree to let you abduct his goddamn sister? Did you threaten him? Are we at war?”

“There’s no war.” Not yet, anyway. Only time will tell.

“Then what’s happening? Why am I playing house with homicidal Adam and psycho Eve?”

“Because I won’t let her go.”

He rolls his eyes. “That much is obvious. But why did he?”

I don’t know. Maybe her brother felt sorry for my pathetic ass. Or maybe he knew only death would stop me from leaving without her. “She loves me.”

“Shelovedyou. Past tense.” He points a menacing finger toward her door. “That right there is contempt.”

“I’ll change her mind.” I pivot to the sunrise and bridge the space between me and the railing, grabbing the cold metal in tight fists. “She was somewhat receptive to me last night.”

“If you’re talking about your hand all up in her cookie jar, then I’m well aware. I had the misfortune of coming upstairs to return my dinner bowl and got yet another front-row seat to you two going at it.” His eyes harden. “Tell me something, Langston, do I look like someone who wanted to be signed up to your OnlyFans?”

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