“I don’t know why you’re angry now, but I was almost involved in a serious car accident. Some psycho tried to ram us off the road. Then the police pulled us over like it was our fault. So whatever this is, I’m not in the mood for your mind games.”
She turns toward the door to leave.
“Don’t.”
She freezes at the singular command, hand hovering inches from the knob.
I’m striding toward her within the same second. Three long strides and then I’m on her so fast she barely has time to react. She flattens herself against the wall, eyes going wide with alarm as her lips part for a startled breath.
“Ronan—”
“Don’t,” I repeat, stopping mere inches from her. Close enough to see the pulse jumping in her throat and smell her sweet floral perfume. “Don’t think for a second you’re going anywhere. Not right now. Not ’til you explain yourself.”
Her brows furrow, confusion flickering in her eyes. “Explain what? I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t lie to me!” I slam my palm flat against the wall beside her head, making her jump. But she doesn’t break our eye contact, holding my gaze as I hold up the wrinkled business card. “This. Explain this, princess. Explain why you’ve got a calling card for a fucking Russian hitman.”
She stares, blinking, combing her teeth over her lower lip as if cycling through answers in her head.
“Where...” she stammers. “How… how did you get that?”
“Never you mind how the fuck I got it,” I sneer, my mouth tilting into half of a grin. “Don’t worry about that. Worry about how you’re gonna talk yourself out of this one, princess. How you’re gonna convince me you’re not a fucking double agent for your family.”
The accusation snaps her out of her shock.
“Double agent?” she sputters like the mere thought’s absurd. “You mean for my father? You’re being serious right now?”
“Save the indignation. We’re way past you acting innocent.” I crowd her further against the wall, my body blocking any escape. She’s at my mercy, caged in like prey. “Tell me what the fuck’s going on. Or you, your father, and the rest of your fucking family are about to be real regretful.”
Fire flashes in her hazel eyes. “Don’t you EVER threaten my family!”
“I’ll threaten whoever the hell I want to threaten. I’m the one who says how things go around here. You’re just a pretty pawn in this war. One your father’s used and you don’t even realize it.”
“You don’t get how insane you sound right now!” She’s shaking, whether from fear or fury I can’t tell. “You’re actually losing your mind, and I refuse to hang around and watch it happen.”
She ducks out from under me and bolts for the door.
I catch her by the arm and spin her around, yanking her back toward me so roughly strands of hair swing into her face.
“We’re not done, princess,” I growl at her, my grip tightening ’til she winces. “You haven’t explained yourself yet. Where did you get the card? What were you planning?”
She tries to wrench free, but I hold fast ’til she’s outright jerking against me.
“Tell me!”
“FINE!” she screams. “You want to know? You really want to fucking know?”
She stops fighting, her chest heaving, frustration glistening in her eyes.
“Chantal gave it to me! In case of an emergency situation! In case I ever needed it and was desperate enough!” she explains between sharp breaths. “You want to know why I kept it? Because… because I didn’t know what I was facing inside this family from hell! This house full of Irish gangsters who hate my guts! So yes, I kept it in case I ever needed to use it!”
The mocking grin returns to my face, lighting it up with cruelty. “Use it against who? Be specific, princess. Your dear ol’ husband, huh? To have me killed off?”
“YES!” she screams unabashedly, right in my face.
No hesitation or apology.
It’s so raw and sincere I can’t help but laugh. The sound is dark and bitter and utterly devoid of humor.
