“Love was never a consideration.”
I smile for what feels like the first time in forever. I have no idea what he really thinks or feels, but “never a consideration?” Thatreeksof bullshit.
His gaze flicks briefly to my curving mouth. Is he nervous? Adrian Maddox doesn’t get nervous.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” I ask. I don’t know what I’m doing. Fucking with him, obviously, but why or to whatend? I have no idea. I do know that awful feeling in my stomach I’ve been carrying since that night at Maddox Towers has ebbed, noticeable mostly from its absence. I never do know what I’m feeling when I feel it.
“Doyouwant to kissme?” he shoots back.
I roll my eyes “Cop-out.”
“Coward,” he says.
I bend forward until my mouth hovers over his. Every exhale, his breath ghosts my lips.
“Why were you mad at me when you fucked your director of finance?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.” I make to back away, but he seizes my wrist, cuffing it with his fingers, holding me in place.
I try to twist my wrist free. “You’re hurting me.” He’s not, really. I’m too amped to register pain. Still, he’s crossed a line he’s never stepped over before, and I’m not passing up the leverage.
“Where’s your wedding ring?” he asks, holding my hand in front of my face so I can see my bare ring finger.
“I threw it in the river.”
“Bullshit. It’s with the rest of your jewelry. You’re not going to be able to pawn it. I reported it all stolen.”
“Bullshit.” He’s lying. I can tell. Delight swells inside me. He’s not so inscrutable now, is he? My rose-colored glasses are gone, and I can see through him. X-ray vision.
“Any reseller is going to give you pennies on the dollar,” he says. “Sell it to me. Name your price.”
“You couldn’t afford it.”
Tightening his grip, he grabs my other wrist and pushes me back in my chair, pinning my arms to my side. He’s leaning over me now. His face is in mine, my breath ghosting his mouth. I shrink myself, so I can gaze wide-eyed up at him and look as delicate and harmless as I can.
“You’re thinking about headbutting me in the face, aren’t you?” he asks.
Or biting his nose off. “Of course not. I’m not crazy,” I lie.
He doesn’t answer right away. He rakes his gaze down my body and then says, “I know. You’re cornered.” He leans even closer, until I can only see his eyes, and his lips brush mine when he speaks. “I’m not your enemy, you know.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No.”
“You fucked some random because you were ‘on edge.’ Why?”
“I don’t know,” he repeats. “Where were you the six months before you came to New York?”
“What?” My pulse erupts, and I begin to struggle for real. He pins my arms tighter to my sides.
“You quit your job in the spring of your senior year of high school, and you didn’t show up in New York until the fall. What were you doing?”
“What does any teenager do the summer after graduation?” If he glances down, will he be able to see my heart pounding through my shirt? “What does it matter?”
His eyes narrow. There’s the megalodon. Under the fresh surge of panic, my chest twinges almost wistfully. He’s on top again, and I’m back on the bottom. I give up trying to wrench myself free.
