“C, it’s possible she didn’t?—”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I bark so ferociously, everyone in the room flinches. I’ve rounded on Matteo with ragged breaths heaving out of me, my face clenched in fury. “You have your fucking orders. Now follow them—all of you!”
My men scatter like rats. They push and shove each other as they converge on the door and then their shoulders get stuck inthe frame. By the time they’ve fled, the only two remaining are me and Ms. Poitier.
She hasn’t budged an inch, still beside the war-planning table. The knit of her brows and flatness of her mouth communicate how she’s feeling, even if she’s remained silent and given me the time and space to sulk.
I pace a few more times, throwing a couple dirty looks in her direction.
Still, she keeps from reacting. She waits for me in the manner an exasperated parent does when their toddler’s in the middle of a tantrum.
I grit my teeth, pacing by the window. Then I cave in and snarl at her. “This is all your fault, P!”
“You said it was security’s fault fifteen minutes ago.”
“It’s their fault too! It’s all of your faults!”
“She was lying in bed with you,” Ms. Poitier points out calmly. “You didn’t notice she got out of bed?”
“I’m a heavy sleeper—I take medications! You’re the one who encouraged me to… to have that woman here!” I rage, throwing my arms up. “You said it would be a good opportunity to show Nevaeh I wasn’t trying to control her. She could still see her family.”
“It was a good opportunity. And it was kind of you to do so.”
“KIND? Who the fuck cares about kindness in this world? I should’ve known it was a trap! That mother of hers is as slimy as the man she signed her daughter’s life away to!” More frustration boils over inside me, and I shove at the weaponry on display. The fire launcher’s knocked off its podium and smacks into the ground with a jarring thud. The same happens to a display of bullet-proof gear that I send careening toward the ground.
Once I’ve chosen a path of destruction, it’s almost impossible to stop me.
For another minute, I destroy whatever’s within my reach. The drapes are wrenched off their rod and ripped in half. The laptop on a desk with the screen showing an overhead shot of the city gets thrown halfway across the room.
I wreak havoc, breaking any and everything within reach. Volcanic rage consumes me instead of accepting the truth of what’s happened.
Truth that’s most destructive of all.
Ms. Poitier sees it plain as day. She’d claim it’s dripping off me. It’s in every breath I heave and roar that thunders out of me.
Nevaeh, mia bella ballerina, did not love me. She never loved me.
The entirety of our relationship was only a dream. My fantasy where I forced a frightened young woman to marry me and then proceeded to hold her captive until she agreed she was in love with me. When she peered up into my eyes and told me she did, Ibelievedher.
We had many rough spots in our relationship, but she wanted to be with me.
It had seemed so fucking real…
I let out another roar worthy of a great beast and then find there’s nothing left to destroy. The entire war room resembles the aftermath of a bomb explosion.
And then there’s prim and proper Ms. Poitier still stubbornly waiting for me with her silvery curls and house dress.
My heart twitches. Physical pain I prefer to deal with rather than the emotional kind.
The truth I’m avoiding.
“What is it?” I snap, panting for a clean breath. “Why are you still fucking staring at me?”
“C, don’t let this destroy you. It’s only been thirty-six hours. You’ve got to have your head in the game.”
I scrub a large hand over my face. I haven’t slept. I haven’t eaten. I’ve barely taken a piss sincemia ballerinaleft. Dr. Tulio has shown up twice trying to lure me to his office for my next treatment. I don’t have long before forgoing it causes major complications for me.
“My head is in the game,” I mutter, closing my eyes. “But Nevi takes precedence.”
