Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
“Because I was afraid it would put you off.”
“It does,” I say frankly. “I’m not interested in becoming part of a love triangle.”
“Well, on Sunday you weren’t interested in anything serious,” he says over a laugh. “So tell me, Amelia, what the fuck do you actually want?”
I blink at him, surprised, outraged. And now he’s being an arsehole? “You’re doing a stellar job of trying to fix this,” I snap, yanking my face from his hold and getting down from the counter. “Fuck you, Jude.” I can’t deal with these seesaw emotions. Mine or his. Lust one second, rage the next, despair, calm, joy, anguish. This isn’t healthy, and it’s not what I want.
“Amelia,” he barks, making a grab for my arm. I dodge his lunge and retrieve my bag. “Oh, great, so now you walk away again. Brilliant. Very fucking reasonable of you.”
“Reasonable?” I cry, my voice high-pitched. “You’re fucking a married woman! Is it all a fucking game to you? Bending women to your will, brandishing your charm left and right. What’s wrong with you?”
I see it coming. The explosion. “Everything is fucking wrong with me!” he bellows, completely losing his shit. He swings around and smashes his fist into the wall, and I jump back, alarmed, as plaster crumbles around his balled hand. “Fuck!” He yanks it free and curses his way to the sink, shoving his scuffed knuckles under the cold tap. He takes a few deep breaths. Clenches his eyes closed. “I’m a fuckup, Amelia,” he says calmly. “A total fuckup, so, yes, the best thing you could do is leave and crack on with your life.”
I baulk at him. “That’s exactly what I was trying to do until you turned up tonight.”
“You were in my club,” he grates.
“And you were hammering on my best friend’s front door before that, so don’t you dare throw the blame for this shitshow my way.” I fling my arm toward the door, pointing. “You just led me up to your apartment with the promise of fixing it, and all you’ve done is make this fucking worse.” I underestimated his anger issues. His temper. He looks absolutely crazed as he shakes his hand and grabs a tea towel, drying it, his lip curling in contempt. I’m a fuckup, Amelia.
He’s not wrong, and he’s fucking me up too. My anger, the frustration. I feel out of control.
“You let me lead you up here, Amelia, because you wanted me to fuck you like you love me fucking you.”
“Go to hell.”
“I’m already fucking there!” he yells as I storm out, slamming the door behind me, my face certainly every shade of furious. Stomping to the next set of doors that lead back into the hotel, the pressure in my head growing, I haul the door open.
And come face-to-face with Katherine.
“Oh,” I laugh, as she looks me up and down. “Well, this is fucking perfect.”
“Excuse me?” Indignant, she glances past me, and I turn to see Jude jogging this way, his face a picture of horror, fury, anxiousness.
Fuck.
Him.
I smile, sweeping a hand out to Katherine. “Look who’s here,” I sing, delighted.
Deranged.
“Have fun, you two.” I leave, damning the pinch at the back of my eyes, pushing my way through the various double doors until I’m at the top of the stairs. Bastard. I’m a fucking idiot.
“Amelia,” Jude yells after me.
“Fuck off,” I hiss, wondering if I’ve ever cursed so much in my life.
“Amelia, for fuck’s sake.”
I take the stairs but make it only three down before I’m dragged back up. “I said fuck off!” I scream.
“Not on your fucking life,” he seethes, his face up in mine. “We’ve got things we need to discuss.”
I laugh. “What, like how much of a fuckhead you are?”
“If it makes you happy.” He grabs the top of my arm and starts guiding me back toward his apartment, but just when I’m about to fight back, Katherine appears, and the expression of shock on her face tells me I look as wild as I feel.
His fault.
This . . . because of a man.
What has become of me?
Jude wrestles me past her, and the filthy look I give her should turn her to stone. “You’re welcome to him,” I seethe, getting a warning squeeze from Jude for my trouble.
“You say that like the choice is yours,” Katherine replies, deadpan. She truly means it.
“Enough, Katherine,” Jude warns calmly, marching me on.
“Tell that to your bit of stuff,” she retorts.
I cough over my indignation, breaking free of Jude’s hold. Slap her. Claw her eyes out. Fucking strangle her. “Bit of stuff?” I parrot, gunning for her, my mind and sense completely gone. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe he is your bit of stuff, since you’re the one who’s fucking married in this situation.”
She hums, pouting, her head tilting as if considering that notion. “Correct.” She smiles, and it’s smug. She’s enjoying this. My upset, my loss of control. “Mine,” she adds.