Chapter 12: THE CONFRONTATION
Hostility permeates the airthe moment we step through the double doors of the Anderson Estate that evening. Agnes, their housekeeper, hurls a withering glare at me before scurrying away, no doubt to notify the man of the house of our arrival.
It’s a surprise visit. I don’t want the Andersons to have time to prepare. Sources tell me Maxwell checked himself out of the hospital and only Rex is with him, the rest of the family having just left after visiting.
We have to move fast, and surprise is half the effort.
“Come on, fiancée,” I murmur, linking my fingers with Lana’s. A sharp current runs through me from the contact despite my leather gloves preventing our skin from touching.
I can’t afford to touch her. I need my wits about me.
“Let go of me, you motherfucker,” Lana grits out. She twists her arm and pulls, but I give her no quarter.
She then stabs the sharp heel of her stiletto into my shoe.
I grunt. Pain burns through me, and my eyes immediately water.
But I don’t let go.
I’ll never let go.
For a moment, as I struggle to catch my breath, my heart palpitating, a stray thought slips into my consciousness.
Kian finally got to have his Elise again.
“You can drop the act.” Lana digs her nails through my leather glove. “No one’s watching. Everyone knows the truth here. Let go of me.”
Chuckling, I wipe the moisture from my eyes. “If you only knew how much your fight is turning me on.”
“You sadistic sack of shit.”
“And that potty mouth of yours.” I graze my finger on her chin. She swats it away. “I never knew the Anderson princess could cuss up a storm.”
“There’s more where that’s coming—”
Her breath hitches when I haul her against my body until we’re a hairsbreadth apart. Our shoes squeak against the floor. We collide with the wall next to the entryway table.
“Remember what I said earlier, princess. Marry me or bury him. Your choice. I’ll never take away your choice.”
Lana’s eyes flash with anger. She raises her hand to slap me.
I catch her wrist and pin it against her back, forcing her to arch up and look at me.
She moves again. Her free arm jerks toward the table. Metal clangs. A glint of silver flashes in my vision.
The sharp edge of a blade points at my throat. A letter opener.
My pulse roars in my ears, my senses heightened. Her gray eyes. Burning hatred. Lethal and violent.
Fucking intoxicating.
“Go on,” I rasp.
Another enticing gasp tumbles out of her rosy lips. Against my willpower, or lack thereof, my body responds. Every muscle coils. Sharp need threatens to obliterate any rational thinking.
“Not there.” Slowly, I move the blade closer. “Here. Under my chin. That’s where the blood vessels are.”
I wrap my hand around hers, feeling her tremble.
