Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Silence stretches between us. When I think he’s not going to say anything at all, the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Mmm.” His head tilts to the side as he takes his time dragging his eyes over every inch of my body before landing back on my face. “Not very fucking nice finding out the person you fell in love with may not be who you thought they were, huh?”
“Maybe,” I say, doing my best to ignore his admission to loving me and focusing on the catastrophe of this moment. “But I didn’t lie about the fact that I fucking loved you, Asher.”
Okay, that wasn’t the plan, but I guess we’re doing this now.
“Oh?” His brows shoot up. “Before or after you thought you killed me?”
My jaw locks.
Everything shrinks around me because check fucking mate. Because I know I deserve his wrath, since I fucked up first. Because no matter how many times I tell him I’m sorry, or that I truly loved him, it won’t change the fact that I still aimed a bullet right at him, point blank, and watched him die like he was the enemy.
I’m a monster.
I’m a fucking monster just like them.
I wrap my arms around myself like it’s going to stop my insides from spilling out. “I’m sorry…”
He snickers. “Ivy, I don’t want your apology. I want you to tell me who ordered it.”
Everything stops.
Time, my thoughts, my damn breathing.
His tongue rolls over his bottom lip as if contemplating how to articulate his next words. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. Tell me who it was so I can deal with it and move the fuck on.”
To be fair, this isn’t an exactly out of pocket claim, since it’s the most logical reason as to why I did what I did.
Only, logic doesn’t have shit to do with it.
I let the words roll from my mouth slowly. “Even if the target was you, I don’t know who orders it. That’s not how this works.”
I hold my breath, hoping he’d fill the silence with more of his own conspiracies, since it seems healthier than I don’t know… fucking your ex, marrying your enemy, throwing a party in your husband’s house and letting him think you’ve been spit-roasted by other men.
The smile I try to force dies before it even forms.
“Just know that it wasn’t you…” Realization dawns on me. “Wait.”
I lift my hands. “Do you think my falling for you was me moving in on my new target? As in black widowing you?”
He doesn’t answer, holding me in place with a stare I never want to be on the receiving end of again.
Every piece of rubble from every single wall he’s eradicated drops down on me all at once. My brain turns to static as saliva fills my mouth.
“You weren’t!” I whisper, my body shaking.
I need him to believe that.
He looks right through me like anything I say means less than shit.
“Asher.” New direction. How can I make him see reason? “If it was you, why did I kill... attempt to kill you on the spot?”
His gaze drops to the choker locked around my neck before trailing back to my face, once again unbothered. “Because some shit went haywire between you and Parker and you needed to get it over with quickly.”
Laughter dies in my throat as I fall back in my chair. “I don’t have time for this.”
I bury my face in my hands, dragging my fingers through my hair until it falls around my face. I don’t even have time to unpack why he would think his name would appear on a roster of evil fucking people.
He widens his stance. I don’t bother hiding my gawking as I travel up his thighs and past the planes of his stomach, until slowly landing back on his face. From this angle, he holds every card. With anyone else, that wouldn’t fly, but with him…
“Wait.” There’s a lot of waiting going on, but every time I think I’ve worked something out, I land back at square one. “How do I know I wasn’t your target?”
His jaw clenches. “Because I’m not a hitman.”
He doesn’t sugarcoat his words, leaving them out in the open for anyone to consume.
I freeze, head turning over my shoulder to assess every threat in the room.
He deadpans. “No one can hear shit.”
Tension snaps and I can breathe again. “So, if you’re not, then…”
My brows pull inward. I need them not to since Botox isn’t exactly cheap, but the confusion of his words only pulls me deeper into the mud.
“I’m not,” he repeats, his tone final. “You know who I am, Ivy. I never hid that shit from you. I showed you the real me when everyone else got the masked version, not the other way around. You know me better than I know me.”