Page 147 of Cruel Throne


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Why? Because I’m lying to the one man whose approval I still crave, and if that wasn’t bad enough, I’m hiding a marriage and have forced a woman into my life.

When I get back to my property, I don’t go inside right away. I stand on the front steps, breathing in the air.

Then I look at the security feed again because apparently, I’m obsessed. Still closed. Good. I drag a hand over my face.

I’m pathetic.

41

Victoria

I knowhe’s home before anyone says a word.

The door to my room is closed, but even tucked away, I can hear the voices from down below.

For as large a house as this is, it’s odd how voices travel.

Right now, I can clearly hear footsteps from downstairs.

Next is a car door slamming.

My nervous system fires into overdrive because I know it’s him.

I move to my door and place my ear against the wood. I can hear the low murmur of male voices in the foyer.

Slowly, I open my door. Not dramatically. A small crack, just enough to try to hear.

Unfortunately, my plan sucks, and I can’t hear anything.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m out of my room and on the second-floor landing.

I grip the banister, pulse jumping like I’m about to have a heart attack.

You are not going to hide on the stairwell like some pathetic woman. You are his wife, not his prisoner.

Actually, you’re both.

And you’re also his secret wife, let’s not forget that.

I roll my shoulders back, exhale once, and start down the staircase. Lorenzo steps into the foyer as I reach the bottom.

He looks exhausted, wrecked. He also happens to look devastatingly handsome and deadly. His dark shirt is rumpled, and the sleeves are shoved up. His gorgeous tattoos are on full display.

A part of me wants to ask him to remove his shirt so I can see just how far they go, but I bite back that desire. Nothing good will come from lusting after my asshole of a husband.

My gaze drops down, and I see his knuckles are scraped.

There’s also a faint smear of something red on his collar.

Dirt.

I’m sure it’s just dirt.

Red dirt . . .

Sure.

I don’t know any idiot who would believe that.