Page 9 of The Heart of a Villain

Not that his childhood excuses his behavior, but it at least explains something.

“I’m so sorry.” A monster or not, no one deserves to see their mother being hurt and then raped. He didn’t say it out loud, but I can read between the lines.

He ignores me and instead continues, “However, she saved one of the diaries. She hid it somewhere in the house and told me to find it if anything happened to her, as it holds the answers to everything.”

“Did you?”

“No. I couldn’t.” He doesn’t elaborate on that part of the family history. “That’s where you come in and why I brought you here.”

I blink at him several times, combining all the information in my head and putting it together in aligned blocks. “You want me to find the diary?”

“Ah, it’s so good to have a conversation with a smart person. It’s a rarity in this world.” He nods. “Yes. You’ll find the diary and give it to me.”

A humorless laugh escapes me, and he narrows his eyes, clearly not appreciating me mocking his plan. But is he serious? I might be curious, but I don’t really care about his mother’s diary. I have my own family to think of and all the fucked-up shit that just happened to me!

“Why would I? I have my own problems.” I swirl my finger in the air. “I’m kidnapped on an island, if you haven’t noticed!” I yell the last part, not caring who hears me. Based on my experience, their staff doesn’t give a shit about anything anyway.

“We have no time for your hysterics.” My mouth opens and closes at the sheer boredom in his tone. “Find the diary for our mutual benefit and go home unscathed.” A beat passes. “Well, sans whatever the fuck has gone on between you and my twin.”

My cheeks heat up while a hot flush travels through me at the reminder of me losing my virginity to Rush, my core still sore between my legs, while muscles I didn’t even know existed ache.

“Why should I trust you?” I ask him, shifting to the other end of the couch, and then get up, crossing my arms. “And why should I help you? Find the diary yourself. You knew your mother better than anyone.” He can claim whatever he wants, but if a man behaves as cruelly as he did with me, it means he has no morals.

I don’t believe a word he says. He must have his own agenda. And why would a Wright sibling help me anyway, since they all hate my father so much?

He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “That’s a bit difficult, since Rush forbade me to enter our family home. I’m not welcome there.” What in the hell? “George and William feel so guilty for screwing up all those years ago they do whatever he says and are deeply loyal to him. So they won’t go behind his back either.” Judging by his tone, he harbors a lot of resentment where those two are concerned. “And Lavender is in no condition to help me.”

I hear an emotion in his voice, something akin to softness that contrasts so much with his harsh coldness. At least he has affection for his sister—although, little good it did her. “So that leaves only you.”

This family dynamic is the most bizarre one I’ve ever seen. How surreal my situation is.

I put my hand on my forehead, rubbing it and wincing at the headache enveloping me, trying to make sense of all this and not erupt into real hysterics, wondering how I ended up in this mess in the first place.

As bad as it sounds, at least with Rush, I knew his agenda and was semi-safe at his mansion. I don’t know what kind of psycho his twin is. And what will he do if I refuse him?

Running away right now doesn’t seem like an option either, since I have no idea where we are or how to get away from here.

My dad needs time to arrive, so I’m back at square one, where my survival once again depends on a man, and I have to play my cards right in order to survive.

And hold myself back from begging Rafael for Rush’s whereabouts and what’s going on with him.

My affection for the villain should stay firmly locked in my heart without anyone shining a light into it, for how shameful it is to care for and lust after a man who kidnapped you?

Clearing my throat, I take a deep breath and ask again, “Still, it doesn’t answer my question. Why should I trust you?”

He implied he can get me away from here, once I do what he says, but what guarantees can he give me?

“Not to be rude, darling, but you’re in a fucked-up situation, and I’m literally the only one who might give you the key to saving your family.” He must read confusion on my face, as he elaborates, “If what I suspect is true, my mother’s diary will save your father. Rush believes only what he sees. Emotions don’t rule him.”

I still at this. “What do you mean?’

“My mother’s diary tells what happened on this island twenty-seven years ago. Find it, give it to me, and the rest will be history.” He opens his arms wide. “And this nightmare will go away.”

We stare at one another in silence as I digest his proposition, the wooden clock hanging on the wall ticking loudly and sending prickles over my skin, while everything in me cheers at the idea of him helping me.

A man of his caliber uses whatever weapons he wishes, as long as it means his victory. His reasons for finding out the truth are vastly different, and I can almost feel his anger directed toward someone.

If Rush believes my father is responsible for his parents’ death, then Rafael blames someone else. So while the variables in this equation might change, the reason is all the same.

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