Page 113 of Desperate Secrets


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And I’m angry. So damn angry.

I’ve waited my whole life to find someone like Atlas. To be loved like he loves me. And if this asshole thinks he’s going to take that from me without even a fight—well, I’m about to prove him wrong.

I never did like sitting still and looking pretty.

“You fucking coward,” I spit, even though my voice cracks.

His eyes—wild, unfocused—snap to mine.

“What did you say?” he shrieks, spit flying from the corner of his mouth.

“You heard me.” I grit my teeth and lift my chin even though my hands are strapped painfully behind my back, cutting off circulation.

“What kind of man ties up a woman just so he can hit her? Oh—that’s right. You’re not a man. You’re a pathetic old drunk with delusions of grandeur.”

The room goes silent.

His men shift uneasily.

They aren’t sure if they should intervene or run.

Good.

Let them all see what a monster he is.

But also—if I’m lucky, he’ll get cocky.

Untie me.

Make a mistake.

I didn’t take years of MMA for nothing.

He’s bigger, stronger, and mean. But he’s also old, out of shape, and his hand trembles every time he raises it.

I could take him.

God, I want to take him.

But right now? I’m strapped to a damn chair in what looks like a storage office—concrete floors, cheap curtains, dust everywhere, and the stink of old cigars seeped into the wallpaper like mildew.

I swallow.

The fear is there, crawling under my skin like fire ants.

But so is the rage.

Dimitri circles me like a vulture. His breath hits my cheek—whiskey and body odor.

He mutters to himself, switching between English and Greek, half of it unintelligible. His sweat drips onto my shoulder as he paces.

“Ungrateful,” he snarls at no one. “After everything I’ve done for that little bastard, he thinks he can replace me? Take what’s mine? My company. My inheritance. My name.”

He’s spiraling.

It’s like watching a storm collapse in on itself—violent, chaotic, unstoppable.

One of the guards—tall, nervous, younger than me even—says something in Greek, pointing toward a window like he’s suggesting they should move me.