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His mouth curves in a sad smile. “I should’ve known you’d figure it out.”
The confirmation squeezes my heart before ripping it in two.
I’d known. God, how I’d known. But I didn’t want to believe.
I’d hoped and prayed and begged to be wrong.
“Fuck you.” I storm forward, grazing his shoulder, only to be stopped by the tight grip of his hand around my arm.
“You’re not going to ask me why?”
I raise my chin. “I already know—it was a game.”
“No, little fox. That part was never a game.”
“Bullshit. You accused me of sleeping with you because of some fucked-up trickery. But it was really you who flipped the board that night.”
“No.”
“Yes. You worked me like a pro. That bullshit when you told me you weren’t sure you could pull the trigger was pure gold.” I tilt my head to face him. “But it was the day of reckoning where you really played your A-game. You kept repeating your father wouldn’t shoot you—you, Cole—but you weren’t the only victim in the room, and you would’ve known I was scared to death of Luther hurting any of us. And still, you kept saying it over and over. He won’t shoot me, his own son. You predicted the subtlety would work its way into my psyche.”
He doesn’t answer.
I don’t need him to.
Not anymore.
“And there was your strategic stance, too.” I square my shoulders, thrilled to have the opportunity to get this shit off my chest. “You could’ve easily saved your father by blocking him with your body. You knew my aim. You were well aware I had an open shot. Yet you kept stumbling out of the way.”
“You’re a smart woman, Niss.”
A sob inches its way up my throat, just waiting to be released.
I hate him. God, how I hate him. But I’d loved him, too.
It was a dizzying, heart-palpitating, Stockholm love. But love regardless.
“Not smart enough to understand why you continued the act after I pulled the trigger.” I sniff and hate myself for the pathetic sound. “That part still has me stumped. Along with why you didn’t just ask me to do it in the first place. But…” I shrug. “The past is in the past. And I no longer want to spare you a single thought, apart from wishing you all the best on your trip to hell.”
I yank my arm from his grip and walk away, only to be hauled around the waist and pulled into his chest. Face to face. Hip to hip.
In an instant, I’m dragged back into fond memories, when I mistakenly thought the look in his eyes held hunger.
“Being away from you was hell on earth.” He growls. “I have no plan to go through that again.”
I fight his hold, shoving and scrambling.
He smothers me tighter, wrapping his arms around mine to hold them down at my sides.
“I’ll scream.”
He grins. “And you think I couldn’t shut you up?”
I should be scared. Instead, the familiar burn of desire slides through me, scorching everything in its path.
I want him. After everything—all the pain, all the betrayal.
I.
Still.
Want.
Him.
“Scream, little fox,” he whispers. “Give me the opportunity to silence that pretty mouth of yours.”
My heart pounds beneath tightening ribs. My lips dry. My breathing becomes shallow.
I don’t want to be like this, with every nerve in my body hyper aware of his touch.
I hate it. I loathe it. Yet, I no longer know how to feel alive when we’re apart.
“You’re going to listen to me.” He leans in, his mouth a breath away from mine. “You’re going to hear every word I have to say. Then, and only then, will you get to walk away from me.”
I scoff and stare over his shoulder, refusing to submit. We both know he won’t hurt me. The only thing he can break is my self-control.
I’m struggling to fight the need to have his mouth on mine. His hands on my body. His words in my ear.
I need it all, and the longer I remain captured against him, the more likely I am to succumb.
“I didn’t break my promise to you,” he murmurs. “I said no more games, and I meant it.”
“Then why?” I focus on the trees, the leaves, the winding, weaving vines. “Why manipulate me?”
“Because you made it clear you hate who I am.”
I turn rigid.
“After everything that happened, you still didn’t understand my life, Nissa. You remained on that high horse, looking down on me.”
I meet his gaze. “What does that have to do with me killing your father?”
“Everything.” He stares at me, his eyes stony, his mouth tight. “I was determined to take Luther down. I would’ve killed anyone who dared take the closure away from me. But that day in Naxos changed everything. I wanted to torture Amar for what he did to you. I would’ve stripped the skin from his body, layer by layer, because of the part he played. But the horrified way you looked at me when I suggested punishment made it clear you were still stuck in your fairyland where justice is only served by someone holding a badge.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s not?” He raises a brow. “Up until the very last night, you kept asking me how I could kill my own father. How I could possibly pull the fucking trigger on my own flesh and blood—”
“Because he was your father. At one time, he was everything to you.”
“He was a fucking rapist,” he snarls. “A sex trafficker. He ruined the lives of hundreds, and sending him six feet under would’ve brought me relief, not anguish.” His anger is clear. His intent, too.
“Then why did you get me to do it?”
“Because of this.” He jerks his head at me, narrowing his gaze. “Because of the way those judgmental eyes strip me to my core.”
I shake my head. No.
“It’s true, little fox. You messed with my mind. You, with your snappy mouth and perfect body, did things to me I couldn’t undo. I knew I didn’t want to let you go once my work in Greece was over. I couldn’t stomach the thought of letting you out of my fucking sight, but I was also fully aware you and your high horse wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of me once I murdered my own father.”
I keep shaking my head. No. That’s not why.
That couldn’t be why.
“I manipulated you, Niss, because I couldn’t let you go.”
“Liar.” I shove his chest. “You did let me go. You banished me in the blink of an eye. You looked at me with the same disgust you accused me of.”
“Any disgust I had was for myself. Not you. I couldn’t stand you looking at me when I’d been lowered to the point of letting a woman do my dirty work. And not just any woman. The only fucking woman I’ve ever given a shit about.”
“Well, it’s a bit damn late to tell me that now when I’ve lived with the guilt for weeks. I thought you hated me for what I’d done.”
“I hated me,” he snarls. “I hated being unable to get you out of my head. I hated my addiction to you and the inability to let go. I hated how your judgment tore me to fucking shreds. But most of all, I hated the fucking danger I put you in.”
My pulse pounds in my throat, the thunderous beats wracking my body. I step back, not willing to believe him.
“I needed you.” The admission is whispered from my lips. “I needed you to tell me you were okay. That I hadn’t ruined your attempt to gain closure. And that the news reports of another mass grave of women found in Greece was untrue. But you wouldn’t even speak to me. I called. So many times.”
“I wasn’t going to have this conversation with you over the phone.”
I take another retreating step. “I went to your restaurant.”