Page 6 of The Villain's Beloved (The Villain's Duet 2)

“Then I’d say married life has made you paranoid, worrying about shit you don’t have to.”

He shook his head then pointed to the door. “There’s another woman’s safety at stake here.”

Anger simmered, and I pressed a finger against my own chest. “And you think I’d do anything to jeopardize that? Do anything to put Charlotte in harm’s way?”

“If you love her as you claim, no. Not intentionally.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Saint pulled a hand through his hair, black curls falling back into place. “I didn’t come here to argue. I’m just concerned.”

“About what?” I snapped. “Me? Or the girl?”

“Both.”

I threw my hands in the air and let out a mocking laugh. “Just ask me what we both know you’re dying to ask me. Go on.” I dared him with a challenging gaze. “Ask me.”

“Fine.” He crossed his arms. “When was the last time you saw her? Huh, Elijah? When was the last time you saw Ellie?”

It was like a goddamn knife in my throat, slicing down to my goddamn chest. I stalked right up to him, stilling so close I could feel his goddamn breath on my face. “Do not fuck with me, Saint. You and I both know Ellie never existed.”

3

Past

His house wassmall but warm. It felt welcoming, like home.

It didn’t reek of piss and rotten food. There were no dirty dishes scattered around the kitchen or smelly clothes lying on the couches.

The walls were clean, with no greasy hand marks and mold stuck to them. The man closed the door behind him. “You hungry, boy?”

I nodded.

“The bathroom is down the hall, first door on the left. Take a shower while I make us something to eat. There’s a set of clean clothes for you on the bathroom cabinet.” He placed the cello case in the jacket closet behind the door, and I was oddly curious about the guns he hid inside it.

“Will you teach me?”

He glanced at me in question.

I swallowed. “Will you teach me how to shoot?”

He shrugged out of his gray coat and hung it in the closet with his cello case, took off his striped beret and placed it inside as well before closing the doors. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Can you aim when you piss?”

I frowned. “What?”

“Can you aim when you piss? Or do you just,” he waved his hand, “piss all around the goddamn toilet?”

“What does that have to do with you teaching me how to shoot a gun?”

He leaned down and looked me square in the eye. “If you can’t control something as small as your dick, you can’t control a gun, boy.”

He patted me on the shoulder and brushed past me. “Shower. Now.”

“I can,” I blurted. “I can aim…you know, when I pee. It’s just, in the mornings, it’s a little more…you know.”

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