Her body stiffened at the staunch look in his eyes and she began to rise from the booth when his voice halted her movement. “It’s hard to believe that the Elsa I know is marrying a man she clearly doesn’t have an investment in.”

Investment. There it was again. That dreaded word that inundated her with unwanted memories of their jacked-up, brief time together. Her brown eyes narrowed down to slits. He had a helluva lot of nerve telling her what she did and did not have an investment in. And she sure as fuck wasn’t the same woman he thought he knew.

"Why don't you direct those keen observation skills onto yourself and get your own shit together before you tell me how to live my life, Mr. Black," she emphasized his preferred title as her body began to shake with anger.

With staid calmness, his sparkling irises focused on her mouth. "I know you think what I did to you was harsh. And I'll admit that many of my methods were severe. But you can't deny that what I put you through didn’t make you stronger."

Elsa’s mouth parted with shock. The fucking nerve. "Harsh?” she hissed. “It was more than that and you damn well know it. Here’s a news flash: you didn't make me stronger; you made me bitter and afraid to love again,” she whispered contemptuously as she leaned across the table, ready to lunge at him and slap his perfectly chiseled and stubbled jawline.

Some indecipherable emotion flashed across his face. Regret? Shame? Hurt? No… she reminded herself that it was more likely satisfaction that he was feeling, especially after he put her through everything he did.

"You fell in love easily enough with Mr. Duncan. So much so that you're willing to take his name,” he casually pointed out.

Gathering her wits, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "I care deeply for Nate, but what I feel for him isn't love. I doubt I'll ever be able to feel that emotion again."

His left brow shot up. "Then I was right. You are settling.”

She had promised herself that if she ever came face-to-face with Mr. Black again, she wouldn’t admit to him how bad he messed her up. But now, in the situation and his accusation lingering and stabbing at her, there was no holding back. "No, I'm accepting that this is as good as it’s ever going to get for me."

Black half-circles lined his eyes as he stared at her unyieldingly. "You deserve better."

"You're in no position to determine what’s best for me." Nearly a year and a half had passed and he had the gall to tell her that she deserved better? Why did he show up anyway? To remind her of how stupid she’d been to trust him? How ignorant she’d been to profess her love for him? She had reminded herself plenty and she didn’t need any help from him. Furious, she stood to leave but felt his warm fingers wrap around her wrist.

"Sit."

God, his touch… so controlling… so devastating. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. She didn’t want this. Not again. What little shards were left of her heart couldn’t withstand Victor’s tenderness and Mr. Black’s wrath.

Snatching her wrist away, she moved out of his reach. "This is all a little too familiar, only this time I know the outcome."

"Elsa... please." The gritty, desperate quality of Victor’s voice and his mossy-colored eyes, pleaded with her and sent her brain spiraling.

Quickly, his face emptied of all emotion with only his stone cold mask staring back at her. With his composure back in check, the heat of anger darkened his eyes to ebony and his voice changed. Mr. Black was back. Unconsciously she cringed as she recalled the sting of leather on her back. Mr. Black’s actions of that last horrible day with him would forever be emblazoned on the skin over her shoulder blades and seared into her psyche.

“I want you to play my game again and if you don’t say yes, I can and will make you play.”

A dull ache beating a rhythm inside her skull that had been present since the night of her engagement party suddenly punched through her frontal lobe.

The game. That’s what all this was about. The moment he heard she was moving on, he made his plans to put a stop to allowing her to live her life without him.

Gritting her teeth, her question came out shrill. “Are you threatening me?’

Her vision blurred for a moment as adrenaline surged through her but when it came back into sharp focus on his face, his eyes stirred with irritation.

“No, merely stating my intent.”

Her chest tightened so hard she swore she heard her ribs crack. Fear whipped through her like a violent storm and she backed away. As his eyes moved over her face and body, it was obvious that he was trying to gauge the emotions emitting from her. She screamed at herself in silence to keep her cool and not give him the pleasure of seeing her anxiety. She fixed him with a stubborn stare and pushed her chest out. She wouldn’t allow him to win again. Never. Fucking. Again.

Slowly his expression softened and the tensing of his jaw muscle subsided. “If you play, I’ll terminate our contract.”

Glaring at him in utter shock, she huffed. “That piece of paper is no contract. It never was. I played because…” she let the unspoken statement hang in the air. He knew exactly why she played; because she thought she could help him; because she needed what he had to offer; and despite everything he had put her through, she had fallen for him.

Without hesitation, he plunged on, “If you play…” but then suddenly hesitated. His mouth opened and closed several times and his voice dropped an octave before finally finishing his statement. “I’ll sever all ties with you and allow you to live your life.”

With rounded eyes, her heart lurched into her throat. “Are you serious?” Her voice was scarcely a whisper.

She didn’t have to worry about seeing him hiding in the shadows anymore? Or dread the click of the phone when he listened in on her conversations? She would never feel his eyes on her again or smell his cologne on the darkened street anymore?

“Do you really mean that?” she asked again in disbelief.

“Yes,” he ground his teeth bitterly.

His voice became softer yet. “Yes.”

She struggled to accept his words and not cry out for joy, but the nagging sense of distrust was ever present. “Then say the words Victor. Say you promise to leave me alone if I agree.”

Clearly exasperated with her, he began to fidget with his tie and averted his gaze. “I don’t make promises.”

And there it was. Mr. Black’s out.

“If you can’t give me a promise, then I won’t play your damned game.” Elsa’s nerve and fortitude returned and her tone became lethal. “And let me be clear on my intent: if you plan on going through with trying to make me play your sick game again, you’ve just signed both our death warrants because I swear to you and God, right here and now, I’ll send us both to hell before I let you…”

He swiftly cut her off as he stared into her eyes. “I promise.”

Her mouth hung open in disbelief. Shifting from foot to foot, she was now faced with another life-changing decision. “I can’t agree to anything right now,” she began to stutter.” I just can’t make that kind of rushed decision.”

“I understand,” he stated uncharacteristically empathetic. “I’ll contact you in three days’ time.”

“No,” she blared unintentionally when panic inundated her. She didn’t need Victor screwing things up between her and Nate. “I need time to clear my head. I’ll contact you when I’m ready.”

Reaching out to her, he slipped something that he had retrieved from his pocket into her hand. As she stared down at the familiar old East Grace Street key, another wave of anxiety gripped her. It was always about ultimatums with Victor. Do this, or else; do that, or else. Why couldn’t he just have left her alone? Why did he have to show up and snatch away the happiness that had been within reach? Could she trust him to keep his promise of letting her live a life uninterrupted? She had no choice.