The door cracks open, but Adam slams Arnold’s head against it harder, smashing it shut with his skull.
“That’s a damn fine reason to lose a job.”
“Okay,” Arnold whimpers, a tear running down his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
“I didn’t hear you.”
“I’m sorry,” Arnold yells, louder.
Adam lets him go and crosses his arms. “Now, apologize to her.”
“No! There’s no reason for this,” I shout at Adam, trying to knock some sense into him.
“I beg to differ. I want to hear him choke on his remorse for laying a finger on you.”
Arnold is crying. He’s shaking from terror, and I don’t know how to act or react.
“Let’s go already.” I grab Adam’s wrist and pull him closer.
He cocks his gun’s hammer and presses the muzzle against Arnold’s temple. “I’m running out of patience here.”
Arnold squeezes his eyes, forcing more tears to run down his cheeks.
“One.”
“Adam!”
“Two.”
“I’m sorry, Bella,” Arnold blurts out. Adam clears his throat and pokes his head with the gun. “Isabella! I’m sorry, Isabella.”
“It’s okay,” I reply quietly, looking into his eyes.
Weirdly, I don’t feel embarrassed. I’m scared of what Adam is capable of doing to him.
“It wasn’t that hard, was it?”
“Let’s go, please.”
Adam slides the gun into the back of his waistband and smooths out Arnold’s shirt. “Pleasure meeting you, sunshine.”
He gives a lazy salute with a cold wink, grabs my wrist, and yanks me deeper into the university hallways, every eye locked on us.
He’s a dick. A total stronzo.
Who the hell does he think he is? Throwing a tantrum in broad daylight, threatening Arnold like some unhinged thug. Like he’s in some damn mafia movie.Whatever …
What was that supposed to prove? That he’s tough? That he owns the room? That he ownsme?
God, I should be furious. I am furious. After so much time that he brought me back home, my hands are shaking, my face still burning. I could slap him so hard his ancestors feel it.
And yet, I can’t stop thinking about him.
His eyes … Oh, his dark and penetrating eyes … That stupidly sexy smirk he throws every time I look at him, like he knowsexactly what he’s doing to me. The way he says my name. That “little orchid” that’s stuck on his tongue and I can’t stop needing to hear.
Why do I feel like this? Why, out of all the things he did, is the only part stuck in my head the way he looked at me right after? Like I mattered. Like he’d burn the world if I asked.
I hate him for it. I hate that I want him even now.
