Page 28 of His Scarlette Obsession
“Don’t lie to me.” The words come out as a snarl, and I watch her eyes widen in shock.Good. Let her see what she’s done to me. Let her understand the fire she’s playing with.
“I...” She swallows hard, and I can see her pulse fluttering wildly at the base of her throat. “If I have to guess, he wants to talk to me again—”
She stops mid-sentence, her face going ashen as if she’s just realized she’s said something terribly wrong.
And she has.
Ice floods my veins, followed immediately by a rage so consuming it nearly blinds me. “You were talking to him earlier.”
It’s not a question, not with the pieces falling into place with sickening clarity.
The time she took in the bathroom.
The strange look on her face when she came out. The way she’d seemed almost...liberated during our dance.
“That’s why it took you so long to come out.” My voice is low and taut, my hands clenching against the overwhelming urge to throw away the restraints of civilized living. For someone likeme, who has the power of an entire kingdom at my fingertips— all it takes is a single call.
Just one call, and he’s good as dead.
“Lykan—”
“I didn’t give you permission yet to call me by my name.”
The words slice through the air between us like a blade, and I watch hurt flash across her face.
Good, I think savagely. At least we’re even now.
Her lip start to tremble, but I steel myself against it.
Damn you, Scarlette Hood.
I look at her.Reallylook at her. But all I can see now is my mother.
All I can see is history repeating itself, playing out in this very limousine.
My mother wanted money more than my father.
This woman wanted another man more than me.
And the thought makes my chest feel like it’s about to explode.
I can’t do this.
I can’t stay in this confined space with her one second longer, breathing in her perfume, watching her fight back tears, knowing that the other man was someone shewillinglychose...while I had to blackmail my way into her life.
I reach for the internal phone and speak curtly to my driver in Sharasan, the harsh consonants of my native language providing a barrier between us.“Drop her off first.”
My gaze flicks back to her when I finish speaking, and she wraps her arms around her body as it jerks, as if already preparing herself to be attacked.
“W-What did you tell him?”
“For him to take you home.”
“Just like that?” she asks tremulously. “You won’t let me explain?”
“Shouldn’t you be glad?” I force my voice to remain cold, detached. “It wasn’t so long ago that I had to blackmail you into marrying me.”
A second passes, and then she raises her chin. “What about my grandmother’s bakery?”
