Page 18 of Brutal Heir

He raised his arm. He held the necklace I’d added in his tight grasp, with all its sharp, jagged crystal edges.

In horror, I watched his hand descend before squeezing my eyes shut, terrified he was about to disfigure me.

Before he connected with my face, a large powerful hand wrapped around his wrist. “Get your fucking hands off her before I rip your fucking arm off.”

It was him.

Relief felt impossible—not when my rescuer seemed even more dangerous than my attacker.

CHAPTER 7

SEBASTIAN

Itwisted his wrist until something gave with a deep, grinding pop—loud enough to make him cry out, sharp enough to feel it echo through my palm.

I stopped just before the break. Barely.

The primping peacock fell to his knees with an agonizing wail.

“Apologize.”

Édouard’s eyes widened as his lips opened and closed several times before he screeched, “I’m sorry, Monsieur Diamanti. Please don’t kill me!”

The last goddamn thing I should be doing was drawing attention to my presence in Paris, especially with the judge watching me. And now I had this piece of shit begging for his life while he screamed my name.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

When I saw him raise his hand to Sabrina, I snapped.

Control. I needed to get back under control.

“Not to me. To her.”

Sabrina stepped forward. “It’s fine! It was my fault. I knew better than to mess with his design.”

Ignoring the whimpers from Édouard as I tightened my grip on his injured wrist, I ran my gaze over her altered attire.

Gone was the lace shirt, leaving her in only skintight leather pants and that flimsy silk vest that left nothing to the imagination.

My grasp didn’t slip, but my focus did—dragged straight to the silk clinging to her chest and every set of eyes tracking it. I saw red. Not rage. Something uglier.

Not appreciating the audience we were attracting, I crooked my finger to draw her closer.

Her eyes widened. For a moment, she looked around her as if some savior would appear out of the crowd, and she took a step backward.

A low rumble echoed from deep inside my chest.

A growl.

She finally obeyed and shifted to within arm’s reach of me.

A mistake.

With my free arm, I slipped my hand around her neck and pulled her close. “Now tell me what the fuck you’re wearing.”

Her hands smoothed over her embroidered vest, which only pressed the fabric tighter over her exposed breasts. “Same thing as before.”

I wouldn't have let her out of my sight if she'd been wearing that.