Fingers lightly wrap around my bicep, twirling me around to face-off with him, and I don’t stop the prompt and spontaneous cock of my elbow as I slam a fist into his ribs.
To my utter displeasure—and I’m not going to lie, shock—Torin doesn’t let go of me. I don’t even hear a fucking grunt to appease my ego.
His jaw stretches, but his hold remains locked on mine. “I deserved that.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” I jerk on my arm but to no avail. “But here you are, still manhandling me like you have a right.”
His free hand comes up to my face, running the pads of his fingertips along my cheek when his thumb catches my bottom lip and draws it downward. “I’ve waited for what feels like a fuckin’ eternity to see you again, Wildfire. Be pissed at me, you have that right. But whether you like the shit or not, you’re under my protection, and I’m alive. The latter is probably disappointing, I’m sure, but I’m not done with you yet. Not even close.”
A mixture of dread and relief floods through my body, and it doesn’t make sense. Ishouldwant him dead. I should want this to all be over with him.
But I can’t bring myself to want either.
A life without Torin Wildes doesn’t compute. I might want to deck him every time I see him, but he exudes immortality. One of us doesn’t make sense without the other. And I know all too well how stubborn Pretty Boy is. How fate doesn’t apply to him.
“I’d love to say how proud I am of you, Wildfire,” he mumbles softly. “But you’ve been a bad girl since I’ve been gone.”
“Feel free to leave again and forget about it.”
“We both know I won’t forget about you. Iownyou.” I pull back on my limb again, but Torin’s grip tightens, and so do his eyes. “And you know that shit, too, don’t you, Wildfire? It pisses you off.”
“You don’t own shit. And at least I can move and not get shot.”
He smirks at me. “You’re welcome.”
“And he’sdead,” I spit out, because I, Bay Astor, the daughter of Roger Astor, have a fucking Academy Award-winning role to play, and I need to win this damn thing.
Torin frowns.
“Anything else?” I press haughtily. “Or are we finally done here?”
“Almost,” Torin mutters. “We have a long-awaited visit with Emilio scheduled.”
“When?”
“Now.”Of course, we fucking do.“Get your ass in the car, and let’s get this shit over with.”
I’m released in the next second, which prompts me to move toward the exit.
Torin says something, and the dogs move, allowing me through the door and out into the night air.
I don’t know what time it is, but I’m ready for this to be over. Apparently, Emilio wants a pat on the back and a job well done for getting me out of jail.
He can have it.
Anything else to do with the rest of the Wildes can suck my dick.
TWENTY-TWO
bay
I letmyself into Emilio’s house, receiving a glare from a man in a black suit who screamsbutlerordoor openeror whatever. He’s never been here before, but he doesn’t hide his disdain for letting myself in.
Too bad.
I already know my way to Emilio’s office, and I hate that I know this place so well. Torin remains behind me, probably because he can’t keep up with my pace, but his dogs stay faithfully at my side through each step.
I just want this shitshow over with so I can go home.
