Page 31 of Torment

When Scarlet woke up the next morning, Hunter wasn’t there. She didn’t know when she fell asleep—or when she cried herself to sleep—but judging by the way her head was pounding and her eyes were burning, she didn’t sleep for long.

Once she got out of bed, she saw the clothes she had arrived in the day before, cleaned and placed on the chair.

Her body was aching everywhere as she tried to get dressed as slowly as possible. She didn’t know whether it was her workout with the punching bag or the workout she got from bashing Hunter’s face in.

What was he thinking? Provoking her like that? Holding his fucking face up high like he wanted more? And what the hell was she thinking, just letting go? Just letting all her emotions and all her fury possess her?

Yesterday it felt real fucking good punishing him, this morning it felt real fucking shitty.

It was obvious that Hunter wasn’t leaving until he fulfilled his promise to her by making sure she was safe. She just did not understand his motivation behind it. He owed her nothing. There was nothing keeping him there with her, so why did he have to be so damn stubborn? If he would just leave, she wouldn’t have to look into those emerald eyes of his and think about what could have been if his dead girlfriend wasn’t her sister, and if Scarlet wasn’t so fucked-up. Just thinking about it had her chest feeling like it would cave in at any second.

Was she falling in love with Hunter? Or…was she already in love with Hunter?

No. Abso-fucking-lutely not. No.

The sooner they sorted out this shit they were currently in, the sooner he could leave. There was no way Scarlet would want him to stick around a second longer than he really wanted to. So she’d need to do whatever the hell she could to get it done, and to let him go.

After she was finally dressed, she took the bandages off her hands. Her knuckles were bruised and cut, her hands stiff and achy. Hunter’s face probably felt worse.

What was done was done. No use in crying over spilled milk…or spilled blood in this case. There were clean bandages lying on the bedside cabinet, but Scarlet didn’t bother. All her wounds were open for everyone to see since yesterday anyway, so screw it all.

Scarlet made her way directly to James’s office, sure she’d find him there.

Of course she wasn’t surprised to hear Hunter had beaten her to it.

“I told you, man, she won’t go. There’s no way in hell she will go claim the inheritance and come face to face with him.”

Like hell she won’t.

Scarlet walked into the office, stopping in front of the desk, and stared directly at James. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” Hunter jumped up from the chair he was sitting in, and when she looked in his direction, she sucked in a breath.

His face was covered in cuts and bruises. Almost the entire left part of his face was decorated with different shades of black and blue.

“Jesus,” she muttered while she stared at him.

Hunter softly placed a finger on his cheek. “Yeah, feels like I got beaten up by a girl.”

James snorted, but Scarlet didn’t think it was funny. It wasn’t funny at all. Nothing about this was a goddamn joke. For a fleeting moment she wanted to wrap her arms around him and say “sorry” a thousand times, tell him that she didn’t want to hurt him the way she did

What had she done?

Hunter noticed her shocked expression. “Hey, Scar. It’s okay. Nothing a few painkillers and some good whiskey can’t cure.”

“Hunter, I’m…” She couldn’t find the right words. Sorry wasn’t good enough. Not even a thousand of them would be good enough. “I don’t know…”

“It’s okay. I was asking for it.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Stop defending everything I do.”

He moved closer, and she closed her eyes as his wild spice scent wafted over her. God, that scent had a direct line to her soul, making her want things a woman like her should never want. Happily ever afters and white picket fences.

“I get it, Scar. I do. We both needed it.”

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