Page 101 of The Heart of a Villain

“The music is nice.” I tiptoe into another common topic. “Brings back all the memories from my childhood.”

Mom takes another forkful of cake and then washes it away with her tea before pressing the mug to her cheek, looking at me strangely. “Yes. It played when your father kidnapped me from the studio I used to work at.”

I choke on my tea, coughing loudly, and tear some tissues out of the nearby box, wiping my mouth and gaping at her in shock.

Out of all the things she could have said, I never expected to hear something like this.

“He brought me to our house and locked me in his dungeon.” She grins and winks at me. “Back then, it was scarier than it is now. I made some changes to it.” A gentle laugh slips past her lips, warming me up. “And then he proceeded to be very cruel… and hot.”

Too scared to continue this topic and yet unable to stop myself from asking questions, I put my mug on the table. “Why did he do that?”

My father worshiped the ground my mother walked on. I never saw him be anything but gentle to her. So imagining the things she just mentioned seems almost unreal.

“He wanted revenge. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

I freeze at this, holding her stare before lowering mine and clasping my hands together.

We never spoke about Rush.

I raise my face to the wind, allowing it to slap me in the face, hoping the discomfort grounds me in the present and doesn’t make me think about…

About a man who abandoned me so easily, even though he claimed me.

A man who treated my body as his personal and most beloved instrument, playing the strings so masterfully he could emit any sound… only to forget about me the minute he knew his revenge was misplaced and disappeared from my life as if he never happened.

Except the imprints he left on my soul burn anew every single day, driving me insane and building anger within me that continues to grow.

How typical of a man, isn’t it?

They pursue you relentlessly until you give in to their advances and then change their mind in the blink of an eye by dumping you with a broken heart.

Familiar self-loathing swipes over me along with shame as I long for a man who did unspeakable things to my family. I should hate him, and yet every cell in my body wishes to see him and run into his arms, wondering if they have the power to scare away the dark clouds permanently hovering above me.

“Not really,” I finally reply, and my mom’s brows rise. “Dad didn’t try to kill your father, did he?” Whatever Dad’s reasons for revenge were, they couldn’t be so catastrophic; otherwise, Mom wouldn’t have stayed with him.

I almost jump up on my seat when my mom’s laughter echoes through the space, its melodic sound washing over me while her tea spills a little on the ground. “Oh, my darling. There is so much you don’t know.” She must read the confusion on my face because she elaborates, “Your father was never a saint, and based on what I heard, Rush was way softer with you than Lachlan ever was with me.” My jaw drops at this, and she leans forward, closing it for me. “I always said I fell in love with a monster.”

“But… but… you mean Dad actually killed…?”

I can’t even fathom such a notion! Granted, I’ve never heard anything about my mom’s dad—her stepfather filled the shoes as our grandfather, but still.

What in the hell happened in my parents’ past anyway, and why did we never ask them how they met?

She cups my cheek, rubbing her thumb over my skin, and sighs heavily. “Someday, I’ll tell you everything, but not today.”

“Mom, seriously? My curiosity will kill me indeed.”

“Well, I need to keep the suspense going.” We share a laugh that eases the tension a bit, but then it pierces into me once again when the smile disappears from her mouth. “Rush. Is this his real name?”

“As far as I know.” I grab the mug once again, taking a large sip. “It suits him.”

My fingers drum on the porcelain, needing to do something so all the flashbacks won’t come back at me, and I do my best to avoid thinking about him.

I fail miserably on most days, especially at night, when my body craves him so much it aches.

“As children, we read fairy tales about brave princes who would come and sweep us off our feet.”

I blink at the abrupt change of subject.

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