Page 33 of Lovely Venom

I guess this is what Isobel meant when she said their relationship was passionate.

I must make a sound, because a second later Marco’s glazed eyes meet mine.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, freezing for a moment before he pulls his dick out of Isobel.

She looks at me, satisfaction flaring in her eyes when she sees they’ve been caught.

“Don’t stop, baby.” She pushes herself upright and turns around, clutching his face as she tries to kiss him. “It’s about time she knows you’re done with her.”

“Get off me.” He shoves at her, and she stumbles back, her heel catching the carpet before she falls on her ass with a startled cry.

For a moment, I almost feel sorry for her, but Marco doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest.

“What are you doing here?” he growls as he zips up his pants, as if this is somehow my fault.

I ignore that question as I glance between them. “I’m guessing this has been going on for a while then.”

It doesn’t matter anymore, but it’s just the principle of it. All Marco had to do was tell me the truth.

“He doesn’t want you anymore,” Isobel hisses. “Take the hint and get lost⁠—”

“Isobel, shut the fuck up,” Marco snarls at her.

She opens her mouth to argue, and he backhands her across the face, shocking us both.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I glare at him. “Have you lost your mind?”

“She likes it.” He shrugs it off.

“I like it when we’re having sex, asshole.” Isobel stands and clutches her cheek. “Not whenever the hell you feel like it.”

“Well, you can have him,” I tell her. “But if I were you, that would be the last time he’d ever lay a hand on me.”

I turn around and walk out the door, but Marco stalks after me.

“Chantel, stop. We aren’t done.”

“Yes, we are.” I pause to face him, because I need him to get this through his head. “I don’t want to talk to you again. Just leave me alone.”

The vein in his forehead pulses as he comes at me, and all my internal alarms blare with a warning that I need to get out of here. But my attempt to flee is short-lived when he grabs me and shoves me against the wall, squeezing my face between his fingers.

“We’re done when I say we’re done,” he sneers.

When I look up at him, his pupils are blown wide, and I can smell the alcohol on his breath. He’s drunk and on the verge of losing control, which is what this really boils down to.

His entire life is falling apart, and I should have known my rejection would tip him over the edge. He’s failing his family, their business, and the respect his name used to carry. He’s not going to let me humiliate him too. Because deep down, Marco has always felt superior to me, even if he never said it. And right now, his fragile ego can’t handle the idea that I’d be the one to break up with him.

“Let me go.” I keep my voice calm, but the feeling of being trapped already has my nervous system in fight-or-flight.

“You know what you are, Chantel?” He tightens his grip on my face. “A fucking nobody with a whole load of mental problems.”

“Yep, you’re right. So you should have no problem never seeing me again.”

He ignores me, continuing his tirade as if he didn’t even hear me.

“You know what men like me call scraps like you? A rental. Something to fuck until we marry a woman who actually has something going for her. You’re a dime-a-dozen dancer, and that’s all you’ll ever be. I can’t even say you were a decent lay with all your pathetic rules. Anyone else would have told you to fuck off a long time ago.”

“Well, you’re free now. So go do whatever you want with whoever you want.”