Page 122 of The Heart of a Villain

“Elena,” I address her, and she blinks several times. “It’s nice to meet you.” I extend my hand to her, and she is about to take it, when Pierre pulls her back.

A grin spreads on my mouth at this. “No need to be territorial. I already have a woman.”

I expect him to bristle at this, but instead humor brightens his eyes while his tone stays even, although I hear traces of amusement in it.

“Good for you. What do you want from us?”

I expected him to be more hostile toward me. After all, she did mention what I did to her.

So their brazen attitude just proves to me that their friendship and loyalty to each other is real and true, as Aileen accepting me means they don’t question her decisions.

If there is one quality I like about Pierre, it’s his intelligence. He’s smart enough to know when someone approaches him with an agenda in mind.

“You know Aileen better than anyone.” I focus my stare on them, slightly annoyed Caroline isn’t here, but then again…

She’ll have to deal with Dante, and good fucking luck with that. I’ve met the man a few times, and crazy doesn’t even begin to describe him.

Elena crosses her arms. “So? If you expect us to spill the beans, then you’re mistaken.” She makes a zipping motion across her lips. “You won’t hear a thing from me.”

As if I already don’t know all her secrets. Her life is an open book to me, as my eyes are always watching over the most precious thing in my life.

My reward, salvation, and atonement all combined in one woman, who completely owns me.

“I need you to help me woo my woman.”

I’ll do whatever I need to get her back.

Even play the role of a prince.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“True love shouldn’t hurt.

So why then does it always suck?”

Aileen

Aileen

The soft classical music plays through the speakers as I grab the bar and lift my foot, stretching myself and welcoming the aching sensations all over my body.

My leotard sticks to my skin from the sweaty workout I’ve just done, and I point my toes, wincing at the pain, and put the foot down, changing it to the other one.

The short skirt attached to the leo flips up, and the washed-out purple color indicates I should have thrown it away a long time ago, but I’m too attached to it to ever let it go.

Besides, who cares what I work out in within my own house, right?

Finishing up my workout, I do one more stretch of my upper body before exhaling heavily and grabbing a bottle of water. I flick it open, only to choke on it when, through the window of my mom’s studio, I see another delivery car pulling up to the main door with a flower shop sign on it.

“That infuriating man!” I huff in annoyance, gulping my water before putting it back on the floor and slipping off my shoes, wincing at the blood on my toes that will take a day or two to heal.

Even in the place I once considered a sanctuary, he managed to force himself in, although it probably happened the minute I used dance to focus on something else besides him, the man who barged into my life as if he owns it.

Ever since our encounter in the library—after which I rushed home and stayed holed-up in my room, thinking about my choices—Rush has been relentless in his pursuit.

Every morning and evening, the deliveries arrive with various interesting flowers with cards attached.

Usually, they were excerpts from famous poems about love and desire, as if he’s trying to confess his feelings through those.

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