“Fuck.” He curls his hand into a fist and slams it against the mahogany wood. “Wedidn’t agree to anything. That was all you. You made those terms yourself, and it’s been eleven years. Are you seriously trying to crucify me for the rest of my life over one fucking mistake?”
“Rebecca was more than a mistake. She was destroyed because of you Holt.Destroyed. So, excuse me if I’m trying to prevent you from doing the same to all my friends. I would like to keep this group intact without any of them being touched by you.”
He presses his lips tightly together and massages his fingers over his mouth before huffing out an exhausted breath. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I just care, that’s all.”
“Care about who?” he shouts, shooting daggers in my direction.
I open my mouth to answer but again, he shuts me out. His pain and stress is evident. Clearly, this wasn’t a good time to talk, and I bury my confession beneath all the hurt he’s piling on.
“Because it sure as fuck doesn’t seem like it’s me you care about,” he continues. “If you did, you’d be more worried about this lawsuit than interrogating me for kissing Selene last night. You know as well as I do that I wouldn’t hurt Selene.”
I swallow back the tears threatening to spill over. Straightening my spine, I take a few steps forward and feather my fingertips across the glossed wood. I stop close enough for Holt to see how serious I am just by looking at me. “Selene just lost her grandmother—the only real family member she felt truly understood her—and she’s been through a lot of shit in her life. Horrifying things no one should ever experience. You took advantage of her last night.”
“Like you didn’t?” He tilts his head. “Like you didn’t ask her, practically beg her to go up on that stage to help you?”
I pause, allowing his words sink in for a moment. “Break her heart or hurt her in any way, and I’m not sure the outcome will be the same as last time. My forgiveness only goes so far.”
“You truly think that low of me?”
I arch a brow. “Track record speaks for itself.”
“Jesus Christ, Jules.” There’s a vulnerability in his usually contained appearance. His expression relaxes, and his lips part to take in a breath. His eyes shift toward the full-length glass windows overlooking the city. He’s attempting to conceal his hurt. “Get out,” he grinds, clenching his jaw.
But he’s also hurting me.
I came over to his office, first thing, to tell him the truth. That it was me. That it’s allmy fault.
At one point in time, I thought Holt and I were as close as a brother and sister could be thanks to the endless nights as kids spent sneaking into our secret hideout in the garden of our manor on the outskirts of the city. But we’re no longer those kids trading secrets. Instead, we’re keeping them guarded, locked inside a vault having tossed out the key.
“Leave,” he says, turning his angry eyes back on me. “Leave before I lose my patience all together and say something I might regret, forgetting you’re my little sister.”
The lump in my throat is unbearable. Everything is fucked.
I keep my confession to myself as Holt holds on tightly to his secrets. Rhys, the development of Rome’s lawsuit, and his feelings for Selene.
Because as much as I don’t want him anywhere near Selene, deep down I know he’s different when it comes to her. I see it in his eyes. I hear it in his voice when he talks about her.
But through the glimpse of softness and vulnerability, reality hits me: I can’t confide in Holt. I never have been able to truly count on him.
I leave his office without another word, allowing the guilt to wrap itself around me. I won’t be able to contain the truth much longer—I can’t.
I’ll tell him soon, it just won’t be today. Not when we’ve traded cuts and wounds, exposing each of our vulnerabilities, knocking each other down until we’re at our lowest.
Selene for him.
Rome for me.
His mention of my and Rome’s tit for tat being childish is the biggest cut of all. He doesn’t know it, but he’s widened the wound that’s festered for years, opening the sore and allowing it all the spill out of me like the breaking of a dam. I try to keep it contained, never showing that the rivalry between Rome and me isn’t simple. It never has been.
EIGHT
HOLT
“Tell me you have a handle on this, Holt.”
I stop dead in my tracks and hang my head, pinching the bridge of my nose so tightly, I think I might fracture it right down to the bone.
