“I don’t care.” His tone is impassive. “Get inside.”
My heart plummets as I twist the doorknob. Of course it’s not locked. Why would Taylor have locked it?
I step inside, and Damian follows, shutting the door behind us.
“Good girl.” The words are quiet, almost mocking. “Bedroom?”
I point down the hallway past the kitchen. I spot my phone on the countertop, where I left it when I looked out the window after hearing the noise. I would have rather faced a flood or giant mutant rats than what was really down there. Could I run ahead, grab the phone, and lock myself in the bathroom? Crazy talk. One of his strides is like three of mine, and by the time the cops get here, I’d be long dead.
As we pass the counter, his grip tightens on my wrist. He yanks me the opposite way, and I stumble, slamming into the wall. “Ouch, asshole.”
His lips twitch. “Your fault. Not mine.” He snatches my phone off the counter, pressing the lock screen. It’s an imageof the prettiest cake I’ve ever made. His expression twists with disgust.
“What?” I snap. “You don’t like baked goods?”
Without warning, he slams my phone into the granite.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
It clatters to the floor in shattered pieces. “What makes you think that?” he asks, voice eerily calm, his glare cutting into me.
I suck in a breath, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “Why are you here? Why are you doing this to me?”
His jaw ticks. His hands snap shut, and his knuckles whiten. For a split second, I brace myself for a hit. But he doesn’t strike. Instead, he steps forward, caging me against the wall. It’s the opposite of last night.
Last night, it made mebreathless.
Now, it makes me feel like I’msuffocating.
The air shifts in the space between us. My skin burns hot, but my lungs feel too tight. This isn’t the same man who touched me with quiet reverence in the dark. This isn’t the same man who made me tremble in pleasure.
This is someone else entirely.
Damian draws in a deep breath, his jaw tensing, the muscles flexing beneath his skin. “How amIthe villain if it wasyour fatherwho fucked up?”
I place a hand on his chest, stopping him from getting any closer. “Wait. What actually happened? Did Vick steal that money? Did he make a bad bet? Is Joel a loan shark? Did Vick borrow the money and not pay it back?”
His expression doesn’t change. “Does it matter? Let’s go. I have a job to do.”
“And your job is to go after people who owe Joel money?”
“Maybe.”
“And what usually happens when you find them?”
His gaze darkens. “Do youreallywant to know the answer to that?” His voice is quiet, deadly calm. The weight of his words tightens around my throat like a noose, and I swallow hard.
I’mfive hundred thousand percent certainthat if he wanted to, he could lean in and slit my throat, staring into my eyes the whole time. And if I collapsed at his feet, bleeding out, he wouldn’t even hesitate to step over my body. He wouldn’t even bother wiping my blood from his boots.
I drop my gaze, looking anywhere but at his face, feeling utterly trapped. I’m fucked. Nevada is the last place I want to go. Dredging my father out of the mess he created makes me sick to my stomach.
But I don’t have a choice.
Damian’s voice slices through my thoughts, cold and taunting. “If you don’t move and get dressed, I’ll take you as you are.” A cruel smile curls at his lips.
