Page 54 of Fractured Loyalties
He leans back, swirling the amber in his glass. “You know, Roman, I always thought you were smarter than this. I can’t let you in on the good stuff, without you learning how to ensure a deal is done correctly.”
My jaw tics, but I hold his gaze. “Maybe I just don’t care anymore. I know nothing about what you do, and therefore, why should I give a shit?”
My father sets his glass down with a clink. “Careful,” he says. “You’re starting to sound like a liability.”
“I’m the only son you have left,” I say, and hate how desperate it sounds. “Who else is going to do this fuckery for you?”
He laughs, low and cold. “Anyone. That’s the problem. Loyalty is cheap, just takes a little cash. But competence?” He shakes his head. “That’s rare. And you’re squandering it.”
I want to reach across the desk and break his fucking nose. But I just sit there, glaring at him. Suddenly, he stands and comes around the desk so we’re face-to-face. He leans in, his eyes full of nothing but contempt.
“If you keep fucking up,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ll give everything to your stepsister. She’s smarter than you, and at least she’s not a total disappointment. She knows that this life is a luxury, not a guarantee.”
It’s meant to hurt, and it does. But I can’t let him see it. I smile, slow and venomous. “Funny, I thought you preferred your bastards to have a dick like you.”
For a second, there’s a flicker of something. His hand moves faster than I can track, and his knuckles crack against my jaw. I hear the pop of flesh splitting, and taste the blood before I feel the pain.
My father stands over me, not even out of breath. “Don’t fuck with me, Roman. Let’s not forget that kid you put in the bay. He was worth much more to me than you.”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, smearing red across my knuckles. I look up at him, my eyes burning with a hate that’s older than both of us. “Wouldn’t dream of forgetting him.”
“Get out.” He turns his back and steps over to the window.
I stand, slowly and deliberately, and leave the office. The taste of blood lingers in my mouth, sharp and electric. My jaw throbs, but it’s a good pain. A clarifying pain.
I don’t fucking care. If my father wants to hand everything to Ivy? Let him. I’ll take more than this house, and more than his money. I’ll take every fucking thing that means anything to him. And if all Ivy means to me is leverage, so what?
But that’s a lie, and I know it.
I can’t stop thinking about her, about the way her mouth tasted when I bit her in the fitting room, and the way she looked at the photos in my room as if she was seeing her own funeral. Obsessing over her may have started as a weird, desperate attempt at control over my broken family, but now…
She actually wants me.
I move through the house like a shadow, still in my all-black suit, and still with blood running down my chin. I need her. I need her right fucking now.
Ivy’s door is unlocked, and even if it’s not, I pretend as if it is, because she wants me to be here. I turn the knob and swing it inward, stepping inside and then closing us in.
I flip the lock.
My little lamb is curled under the blankets, one pale arm thrown across her face, her hair a mess on the pillow. For a second, I just watch her, watch her chest rising and falling, her lips slightly parted.
She looks so fucking innocent, it makes me want to shred her to pieces.
Quietly, I sit on the edge of her bed, just like the first time. There’s a sick, sad part of me that wants to just crawl into the sheets beside her and cling to her, begging her just to let me hold her. Then, she stirs, eyelashes fluttering, a soft sound leaking from her lips that goes right to my cock.
I cover her mouth with my hand before she can make a real noise. She jolts awake instantly, panic in her eyes, and her hands clawing at my wrist. I keep the pressure gentle, just enough to keep her quiet, and then I lean in close.
“Shh,” I whisper, voice a ragged mess. “It’s just me. Don’t scream. I’ve got you.”
Her eyes remain huge, but she stops struggling. I feel her heartbeat pounding through her lips, steady and frantic. I movemy hand away slowly, then use it to brush a strand of hair from her cheek. She’s so warm, so alive, and for a second, I can’t believe how much I need her.
“You’re bleeding,” she says, her voice thin and scared. She stares at my mouth, at the dark smear of blood on my hand.
“Yeah,” I say. “Robert did it. Bad business deal.”
Her eyes flick to the door, then back to me. “I’m glad you’re here.”
The words squeeze my chest, but saying anything in return would be weakness. So, I take her wrist and pin it to the mattress above her head. She tries to squirm at first, but I’m stronger, and the blanket tangles around her legs. I use my free hand to slide under her shirt, dragging nails across her ribs until she shivers.
