His jaw tensed. “You don’t have a choice my bride. Remember those pesky terms and conditions of your trust fund?”
My stomach sank, and bile tickled the back of my throat at the reminder of the many ropes my parents had created to control me over the years.
“I asked them not to press the issue,” Wesley said, softening his tone. “But it’s time now. I need you back with me. The business needs you back.”
It felt like a noose was tightening around my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. All I could do was rage. “Get out!” I shouted, scanning the area for something I could cut or shoot him with. Nothing. Dammit! My cell phone was the closest thing at hand, so I grabbed it and launched it at Wesley.
He ducked, and it shattered against the wall behind him before crashing to the hardwood floor. I didn’t care. I grabbed pens and started pelting them at him. He swatted at them as he backed away.
“I see that you need a little more time to accept your fate.” He rounded the counter, putting it between us once again. “This is happening, Julia. We can do it the easy way, or the hard way, but my patience is coming to an end. If I don’t hear from you by this weekend, I’ll have to press the issue.”
“How dare you!” I shouted. “You can’t blackmail me into being with you!”
“Really?” he asked, shaking his head. “That’s your defense? Pathetic. But don’t worry, your mother will have you back to your old self in no time.”
The paperback I’d been reading was the next thing I lobbed at him. He didn’t bother ducking and as it bounced off his shoulder and hit the floor, he laughed. “I miss that fire. That passion. Don’t let Havoc fuck that out of you before you come home. I’ll see you this weekend,” he said confidently before strolling out the door.
I looked for something else to throw, but there was nothing but my laptop and he was already gone. Angry, frustrated, ready to kill the motherfucker for good, I regained hold of the countertop and raged, screaming, swearing, kicking, and generally throwing a fit.
In the middle of my tirade, Havoc appeared. He calmly reached behind him to close and lock the door before turning around the open sign and flicking the outside lights off. I stilled and watched him, seething as my heart and mind once again battled out how to deal with him. Anger beat the shit out of both organs and poured itself in my index finger as I raised it and pointed at him.
“You. You could have told me about your mom. I would have helped you. Why the hell would you go tohim? Was it your manly pride that couldn’t allow you to accept help from me?” I laughed, sounding manic and crazed, as tears of anger and helplessness flooded my eyes. Swallowing around the lump forming in my throat, I said, “You should leave.”
“What are you talking about, Jules?”
“He fucking called me that!” I shouted. Tears leaked from my eyes. I swiped them away. “How could you? Why are you here? Did you come to gloat?” A sob ripped through me. “Because that cancerous cumstain beat you to it.”
Havoc looked from me to the door. “I’m here because you’re not returning my calls or texts. Other than the text telling me to leave you alone. Then I see that asswipe leaving and you’re in here losing your shit in full-on crazy redheaded white-chick mode and I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”
“I didn’t send you a text to leave me alone.”
“Are you back with him?” Havoc asked.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Would he give you a bonus?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Done screwing around, I shouted, “Did he pay you to fuck me?”
“What?” Havoc took a step toward me, hands out, stance non-threatening while anger ignited in his eyes. “Is that what you think? Why you told me to leave you alone?”
“I didn’t. And he knows things, Havoc! Shit he has no business knowing. How the fuck did he know about your pledge to make me scream your name ifyoudidn’t tell him?”
“I don’t know. I can’t believe you think I’d tell that dipshit anything! What kind of man do you think I am?” Anger radiated off him, blending with mine. He grew darker, bigger, more dangerous. Lightning crackling in the middle of my bookstore. I knew I should seek cover, but I was so far beyond self-preservation that I stepped closer and lent the storm my thunder.
“How the hell do I know? I know nothing about you. You showed up conveniently right when I needed a date and for some reason agreed to come with me to my sister’s wedding. Doesn’t that sound a little suspect to you? I mean, why would you agree to go to a wedding with someone you don’t even know?”
“Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror?” His gaze landed on my lips before gobbling up the rest of my body. “You’re a knockout, Jules. You could ask any man in this city and he’d take you anywhere you wanted to go. And if you weren’t so busy trying to control every goddamn situation and emotion, and allowed yourself to be that vulnerable, gorgeous, real woman you showed me on the ferry, this thing between us could be amazing.”
I blinked, trying to process his compliments as one ragged breath after the next ripped from my chest. He’d called me a knockout. Vulnerable. Gorgeous. Real.
“You know what I think?” he asked, storming on. “You know damn well what’s going on, and you refuse to admit it because you’d rather blame me. It’s safer. Easier. That way you don’t have to feel anything. You’re being a goddamn coward, Jules. So, stop with the ice queen bullshit and admit you like me.”
I wasn’t a coward or an ice queen. My problem was the opposite. I wanted to go all in and feel all the things with Havoc. “Fuck you,” I said.
He quirked an eyebrow at me and that cocky smirk reappeared, tinted with anger. It was hot. And irritating. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to slap it or kiss it away.
“Is that an offer?” he asked, his gaze once again raking over my body.
