Page 188 of Tempting Little Thief

That reminds me …

“Where are we?” I whisper.

Bastian takes two steps back until he’s nearly flush with the wall of windows behind him. His brows pull in and he looks away, so I glance around the space, realizing the suite we are in is no average suite.

It’s lavish and littered with high-end design and crystal decanters.

“Brayshaw,” he shares, his tone clipped, and finally, his eyes return. The hint of softness that slipped through is nowhere to be found, the color fading, nearly overtaken by black fury.

“What happened?”

A scoffed laugh leaves him, and he shakes his head, a little of that anger now pointed at me.

“When are we talking about here, Rich Girl? What happened the night you kicked me out of the gala when you should have said fuck the world? What happened the night after that? Week after that? Are we talking the last few months? Or you want to talk about yesterday when I grabbed you or why I brought you here? Be a little more specific for me, huh?”

“I want to know all of those things and everything in between. Is that specific enough?” If he wants to fight, we can fight. I’ll take the anger from him. I’ll take anything he gives and I’ll ask for more.

His eyes narrow and he shakes his head a second time, turning and looking out the window at the small patio decorated with roses and vines. “I can tell you right now you won’t like half the answers to those questions.”

“I want them anyway.” I need them. Desperately.

For the first time ever, I feel like an outsider in my world, clueless as to what’s going on and unsure who to trust or what to do. I need to go home and find my dad and protect my sister and … deal with what happened to Sai, with what I did to Sai.

I can’t do any of that in this moment, so yes, I want his answers, if only to keep from falling to my knees. I can’t do that right now, not when it’s clear Bastian might need someone to hold him up.

“Yeah?” He glances at me over his shoulder. “How’s it feel to want and not get?”

I refuse to feel embarrassed, so I give him the honest answer because that’s the only one he’s interested in.

“Like shit. Like losing. Like lacking in every aspect of everything. It has felt like breathing with one lung in a room steamed with chlorine and acid, like walking on broken ankles and sleeping on spikes. That’s what I’ve felt like,” I tell him. “That’s whatmissing youfeels like.”

I’m not exactly sure what he expected me to say, but I know that wasn’t it.

He knew I missed him; he knew I was going out of my mind and couldn’t do a thing about it because I told him so with fewer words. There are no less than twenty texts sitting in our message thread to prove it and we both know that. He knew and I’m almost positive that’s exactly how he wanted it.

I take a step toward him, his eyes narrowed and flicking between mine. “And being denied or forgotten by you?” My brows lift. “That feels like a brand on my skin, over every inch of it. It’s like burning flesh, painful and raw and without remedy. It’s been like living with the spokes of a Taser buried in my skin, the button frozen in the on position and the battery everlasting. That’s what being unwanted by you feels like. Literal torture, actual physical pain that won’t go away and I didn’t even want it to because I knew I deserved it.

“I don’t want to make excuses for myself because, trust me, I’m well aware of what I could have done, even if I stillbelieve the outcome would have been a really fucked-up one, but I warned you. I told you this would happen. I told you my world was unforgiving and unwelcoming, but I still wanted you. Having you was enough for me and a part of me believes I should hate you because havingmewasn’t enough foryou.”

He jerks forward then, gripping my chin and lifting it so I have to look up at him as he speaks through clenched teeth.

“Got that one right. It ain’t. Never gonna be, ’cause to be mine means everyone needs to know what they can’t have, can’t touch, and most aren’t even allowed to look at. It means everyone knows what’s at risk if they dare. It means everyone who does learns a lesson so their mistake isn’t repeated. There is no other option. Not when it comes to you. They can take anything of mine and burn it to the fucking ground and I will not bat a lash, but you?” His eyes flare with rage. “I told you from the gate. I warned you what would happen. This is the result.”

The way the words leave him sends a sense of dread through me, his eyes flaring with a deeper meaning I can’t decipher.

When I speak, I tread lightly. “I need you to understand I’ve had nothing for myself, not completely. You were the only thing I had that was only mine. My dad.” My chest aches at the mention of him. “He … he’s had his hands in every aspect of my life in one way or another.”

He scoffs. “That right there is the understatement of the fucking year.”

I frown, shaking my head. “It’s true. You’re the only thing I chose selfishly.”

“But did you?” he fires back, getting in my space and backing me up until the back of my calves meets the side of the couch. “Did you choose me? Did you ‘pick me’ like I did you? Truly and completely.” He presses closer. His body hard against mine. His hand slides down the underside of my throat. His eyes burn a trail along its path as he whispers, “Absolutely fucking psychotically?”

There’s a reckless edge to his tone, a thread of warning that has me shivering.

My tongue pokes out to wet my lips and his eyes slice toward the contact, his teeth sinking into his own as a low groan escapes him.

“I warned you, Rich Girl. I told you you were mine and what that meant. Everyone had to know. Everyone had to understand.”

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