Treachery

When moss green eyes meet mine again, my face heats with anger. I can feel it wafting off my skin, and I know my cheeks are doing nothing to hide the rush of blood.

“You’re not serious,” I finally say. “There’s no way you can hold me here.”

I refuse to believe this.

Refuse to believe him.

He cocks his head, looking good while doing it, and then flashes me a smile that means my life is as good as fucked.

“Oh, but I can. And you were the one that happily jumped in my car so that I didn’t even have to fight to drag you to your new prison. That has to sting.”

Ta

And I was right to tell him that smart women also know better than to climb in cars of men trying to destroy them.

It’s a damn shame I didn’t listen to my own advice.