Page 107 of Sweet Oblivion

Okay, if this asshole can poke, so can I. “Actually, it’s Beneventi, now. And I don’t know what you’re talking about, detective. How did who do what?”

Brook’s sneer is blatant and hideous.

This man doesn’t bother to mask just how much he hates me, and I honestly have no idea why.

“Don’t play dumb, Delaney. Your husband.” The way he sayshusbandsets the hair on my arms on end. The word drips with venom. Like he’s a King cobra ready to strike, and I think that makes me his prey.

What the hell?

I’m tired of being prey.

I’m tired of cowering.

I promised myself I was done with it all once my father was out of the picture, and I will not let this man drag me back there.

“How did your husband convince the DA not to press charges? He killed a man. It’s on tape. It was all over the news. Everyone knows it. For fuck’s sake,Sports Centerdid an entire feature on it. He killed him, and he’s still walking free.” Brooks slams his palms against the counter, and my phone falls to the floor.

Tori jerks awake, scared, and runs over to me.

And damn it, so am I now.

“He was protecting me.” I hate the way my voice shakes with each word, but I square my shoulders and refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing I’m scared. This man is a bully, and bullies feed off fear. With a deep breath, I look him in the eye. “It was self-defense.”

“You’re trouble, Rousseau.” He points his long finger my way. “You were trouble last summer, and you’re trouble now.”

“Beneventi,” I correct him again, wishing Ryker were with me right now. Not even to handle Brooks, but because he makes me stronger. Although I doubt Brooks would pull this shit if Ryker were here, which pisses me off. Too many men have tried to hurt me because they underestimated me, but only two ever managed.

My father and Roger Dennings.

I will not let Detective Brooks be the third.

“I think you should leave, now, detective.” I wish I could glance down at my phone without taking my eyes off Brooks. I learned young you never take your eyes off a predator, and this asshole is absolutely a predator. Instead, I pick up the store phone, acting like I have a plan, but seriously, who am I going to call—the police?

Pretty sure that won’t work since he’s standing right here.

I’m regretting every number I’ve saved in my cell phone right now, because I can’t remember any of them at the moment, since I never dial them.

Instead, I dial one of the few numbers I do know, and thank God my sister isn’t there since she’s already started her maternity leave.

I wouldn’t put it past her to march her pregnant ass down here and lose it on Detective Brooks.

“What are you?—”

I hit the speakerphone button just as Annabelle Sinclair answers, “Hart & Soul Academy of Dance.”

“Hey, Annabelle . . .”

Brooks glares at me, his teeth grinding together so tightly, that stupid toothpick he’s always chewing cracks in half.

“Delaney. Hi, sweetheart. Are you looking for Ashton?”

“This isn’t over,” Brooks warns me as his face darkens to the shade of an overripe tomato before he turns to leave.

The bells chime again above the door, and I slide down the wall behind me to my ass, a shaky breath ripping from my lungs.

“Delaney... are you there? Are you okay, honey?”

I try to force words out, but nothing comes.