Page 80 of Possession

I need him to leave, but his father already doesn’t like me, and I know both these men have a direct line to Alamandos. I don’t want to do anything that will be bad for Boz.

I swallow over the lump in my throat, but can’t force myself to smile, no matter how hard I try. “If you tell me why you’re here, maybe I can help you until Boz gets back.”

“Maybe you can.” His brows rise as he motions to the side. “Shall we talk in Damian’s office—I mean,Boz’soffice?”

I shake my head. “Just tell me why you’re here. Or if you’d rather wait for Boz, feel free to relax, and I’ll have June bring you something to drink. But I need to get back to what I was doing.”

He tips his head and contemplates me. “You’re Dennis Alba’s daughter. Come to think of it, I’d rather talk to you.”

“I know nothing about my father’s business,” I insist and motion to the room we’re standing in. “I’m here, which is proof that he’s not even good at what he does. Really, let me have June bring you a drink. I can call Boz and let him know you’re here.”

“That’s cute you still think they’d give you a phone.”

Shit.

“Why wouldn’t I have a phone?” I lie.

“You were payment, Landyn. A trinket that Damian wanted to play with. A sexy-as-fuck one, but nothing more. I know what you’re here for, and there’s a reason you haven’t been given direct communication to the outside world.”

All the air in my lungs leaves my body in a woosh. He might as well have punched me in the gut.

A smile takes over his full lips. Sleazeball. Goosebumps race up my body at the same time my palms go sweaty.

He moves.

I take a step back.

“Chill out,” he drawls in a low voice. I can’t step away fast enough when his hand grips the back of my arm and squeezes. I try not to call out in pain, but I have a feeling that will leave a mark. He dips his head, and his voice slithers through my messy hair, causing a tremble to vibrate down my spine. “I just want to talk to you.”

“No,” I bite and try to pull away. This reminds me of how his father dragged his mother out of the house that night. I struggle and pull, but he’s moved us the short distance to the office off the front of the house. “Nic, stop. You’re hurting me.”

And just like that, he lets me go. He pushes me into the room and I stumble forward, forced to right myself on the desk as he slams the door behind us. I look around the space for the first time. It might as well be in a furniture store showroom. No computer, no papers, no pencils. And there’s definitely no letter opener, which I could really use at the moment.

I spin around and hold onto the desk behind me. “What are you doing?”

He reaches behind him, and I hear the click of the lock.

It might as well be the last tick of my heart. I can barely catch my breath.

He moves forward, one foot in front of the other until I have to tip my head back to look up at him. His fingers grab the ends of my hair, but on the way, the backs of his fingers brush the underside of my breast.

No.

This is not happening.

This cannot be happening.

He leers down at me.

“I feel like you haven’t gotten to know the Marino family. Your husband…” His lip twists into a sneer as he focuses on curling my hair around his fingers. “Boz Torres is not a Marino. He poisoned Damian against me. Had Damian not been killed, this would have happened, and Damian would have allowed it.”

My chest heaves, and there’s no staying calm anymore. “What?”

He leans in closer, and his words are like a slap. “Didn’t Boz tell you? Damian wasn’t jealous or possessive. Controlling, sure. But he didn’t plan to actually keep you to himself. You think he gave a shit about you enough to do that?”

“Stop it,” I bite and reach up to slap him away, but he’s fast.

My wrist is caught in his big hand and twisted behind my back in no time. I cry out in pain.

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