Page 190 of This Bitter Sweet Temptation
Disaster dressed in a burgundy blouse and soft grey pants.
It’s a sin that she looks so sexy after she just ripped my heart out and ate it in front of me like a ritual sacrifice to the gods of idiocy.
Fair game, I guess.
I’m the assclown who hurt her, after all.
I should’ve remembered she shares the old man’s blood, and once a Blackthorn makes up their mind, there’s nothing you can do except try to keep up.
That’s why when she storms out of the condo with that briefcase, I have no choice but to follow along like a helpless damned dog, trailing her down to the lobby.
She glances behind her once, her mouth pressed in a thin line. She digs around in her bag for her phone and starts texting one-handed.
I don’t know what the fuck to say.
She wants me to apologize, I’m sure, but how can I?
My regrets could fill a mountain. I’m sorry as hell about the way I handled the breakup, and the aftermath turns my stomach.
I’m sorry she thinks I’d ever step on her inheritance when all I’ve ever wanted is to see her safe and getting paid.
Distrusting Jasper Fairfax, I’ll never apologize for that. He makes me so uncomfortable I could spit.
She pushes the door to the street open. I catch it right before it slams in my face and follow her outside.
The bright sun makes me squint to keep her in full view. The street looks as busy as ever in this pulsing city. Her energy fits today.
“I’ve got my car in the garage,” I say, catching up to her side.
“I called an Uber.” She barely glances at me.
I’m going to fucking lose it.
Only, I grit my teeth against fury in my blood. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. But I thought it was faster.”
Faster so she wouldn’t have to rely on me. She’d rather deal with a hundred new vulnerabilities.
“I don’t blame you for hating me. Still hope you know it’s safer with me than a random driver.” I sigh.
“You’ll be with me,” she snaps coolly, her eyes flicking over me. “Like what would possibly happen? Someone’s going to rush the car with guns? They’d have a far better crack at getting us right now.”
Her comment makes me glance around, but no one’s paying any attention to us. We’re just two more bystanders in the shifting human sands of New York City.
“It would be safer,” I urge.
“Yeah, well, too late. Here he comes.”
“Cleo,” I snarl.
She won’t look at me as a black SUV pulls up. At least she had the sense to order a high-end black car, thank fuck.
I’m damnably tempted to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to the museum myself, kicking and screaming.
Maybe she’s right, though. The sooner we get this done, the quicker this torture ends.
I debate jumping in the front seat next to the driver, but ultimately decide it makes more sense if I ride in the back with her.
