Page 74 of Wicked Proposal
Like…
Like she doesn’t think it’ll make a difference.
The next time I blink, Ieronim is screaming.
I realize, dimly, his arm is in my grip. His wrist, to be exact.
And it’s hanging at a very awkward angle.
Odd. I didn’t even hear the bone crack.
“Arghhh!” he yells into the night. “God, Yulian, don’t— Stop, please?—!”
“‘Please, don’t stop’?” I echo. “If you say so.”
I twist harder.
Against the railing, Mia is staring wide-eyed, horror on her face. But it’s a dim, distant sort of horror. Like she isn’t fully here yet. Like she’s still wherever she went when Ieronim called her?—
Sweet thing.
Suddenly, Brad’s voice echoes in my ears. I remember him using the same exact words with her—the same lecherous tone.
Back then, Mia froze, too.
Blind with rage, I yank Ieronim hard. He goes careening into the floor, blood spurting from his nose and staining the beautiful Portuguese tiles.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Ieronim coughs. “Jesus, Yulian, she’s just your whore for the night! You think I don’t read the articles? She?—”
“She isn’t yours to touch,” I boom. “So do not fucking touch her.”
“I—ARGHHH!”
I feel his fingers snap under my heel. This time, thecrackechoes loud and clear. Impossible to miss.
“And donot,” I grow, lower and darker and angrier than I’ve been in a long fucking time, “call her a whore.”
When I kick him in the head, he goes out like a light.
Then I turn back to Mia.
She’s still staring at me, but something’s different in her gaze. More present. More here.
“Let’s go,” I bark, grabbing her hand.
She blinks down at it. My fingers wrapped tight around hers. Like she can’t quite make sense of it. “B-but your event—your meetings?—”
“I don’t give a shit,” I snap. “We’re going home.”
Home.Like it’s something we share. If I was in a better state of mind, it’d make me fucking laugh.
When’s the last time I’ve shared a home with someone?
When’s the last time I’ve shared anything?
One thing, though, is for certain.
I willnotshare Mia.
