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)
I laugh, blood bubbling at the corner of my mouth as I lick it away.
My eyes drag up the wall, landing on the camera like I could see right through her.
“You don’t know me.”
“I know exactly what you are, Delacroix. You’re a rabid dog who thinks he’s a wolf. But rabid dogs get put down.” Her voice drops lower. “Or they get rehabilitated. Broken down. Remade into something useful.”
My arms burn and my side screams, my heartbeat thumping in the wound, each pulse pushing more blood out.
But all I can see is Ivy’s face, her shaking hands as she held me, the tears that fell even though she tried to stop them.
“You can drug me.” My words slur, but I force them out. “You can break me. But you won’t make me forget her.”
“We’ll see,” she says.
The speaker clicks off.
My eyes snap open to find her standing three feet away, close enough that I see the satisfaction curling her mouth. Black suit, black heels, black soul, everything about her screaming money and control.
“You smell like a funeral,” I rasp, each word dragging over what’s left of my throat. “Knew you couldn’t handle me without turning me into a zombie first?”
She doesn’t flinch, studying me like I’m a toy. “Still so much fight left. Impressive.”
“Let me down.” I smirk, jerking against the chains. “See how impressive I am.”
“Such violence.” She circles me slowly, heels clicking against concrete. “All for her.”
My jaw locks. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” She bats her eyes. “Speak the truth?”
She stops directly in front of me, close enough that her breath ghosts across my face. “She chose this, Asher. Chose to leave you dead. Chose to…”
My voice drops low, my eyes locked on hers. “I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Asher Delacroix,” the woman continues, voice never wavering. “Your father would be disappointed. You didn’t love her. She’s poison and you’re nothing more than the sickness.”
“She’s mine,” I growl.
“No.” She leans closer, her perfume choking me. “She’s gone. And you’re here. Alone. Broken. Exactly how we all knew she’d leave you.” Her eyes widen on me. “Do you believe us now? That she’s too far gone?”
Fucking bitch.
I roll the saliva in my mouth and spit in her face.
She blinks, her tongue swiping it off her lip. “Delicious. You know how much I adore you.”
I pull again, putting every ounce of weight into the movement until my shoulder vibrates with a wet pop.
Every bone screams in pain, but I give her nothing. Nothing but the snarl on my lips.
She tilts her head, unbothered. “Fascinating,” she murmurs, stepping closer. “All this power, ruined by a girl who never wanted saving.”
“By the time I’m done with you, Asher Delacroix, you’re not only going to hate Ivanya Dubois, but you’re going to want to kill her.”
I tug on the chains again.
She continues. “And you will. Right after you humiliate her by marrying my daughter.”
CHAPTER
TWO
IVY
PRESENT
Twelve fucking months of therapy. Of being haunted by the memory of every way he’d pull me down and fuck me to sleep. Three hundred and ninety-three days of chasing the ghost of him only to wake with the same hollow burn spreading through my chest.
“Ash—“
He takes my hand and tugs me forward. “Aw, don’t look so shocked to see me, Venom.”
I stumble up the final steps, or he drags me up them, and clear my throat. Compose yourself, Ivanya.
His chest brushes my chin as he kisses the top of my head. “What’s the matter?”
Blue eyes search mine, that mouth I’ve obsessed over curling into a cruel smirk.
“What is happening?” There’s no point masking, since only my people are here.
He barely steps back, just enough for the celebrant…
I pause.
Wait… that’s not who we use for weddings.
The celebrant’s voice fills the room. I fix my gaze on the solid wall of his chest. If I look at my family, I’ll see their faces and lose it. If I look up into the eyes of the only man I’ve ever loved, I’ll come apart.
So I don’t. I think back to when I took this job, trying to find a crack, a flaw. But every job is flawed. The script never makes sense.
He braids his fingers with mine and my heart trips over itself. Damnit. I didn’t want—Using his forefinger and thumb, he directs my eyes up to his.
Words fail me. His thumb presses against my bottom lip, a gentle swipe that could be a threat or a promise.
“Do you, Asher Thane, take Ivanya Celeste Dubois as your wife?”
Blood drains from my face, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling.
He’s used my legal name. My real fucking name, which means…
My eyes land on the table in the corner, where the marriage licenses are. They’re fucking real.
Oh God. How are they real?
Focus.
I angle into him until his chest brushes my breasts. From the outside, we look like any other couple.