But I already was everything she wanted … everything she couldn’t have because of her family. Her family has caused all our problems, all these lies, all these broken hearts.

I make a fist with my hand. “Your family did this?”

“They wanted what was best for me, even though it wasn’t what I needed.”

“No, they wanted what was best for them,” I growl.

“I agree on that part, but it won’t help. We can’t change the past. They needed an alliance for my father’s campaign, and they got one through my marriage with Phillip.” She looks up at me with those wicked eyes of her, as if she could burn a building down just for me. “Believe me when I say I hate them as much as you do. I made sure his family paid the full price.” She grinds her teeth. “I killed his mother.”

This fact doesn’t surprise me. I’m more interested in what she did to her own mother. “And yours?”

She licks her lips. “I haven’t been able to …”

“You can’t kill your own mother.”

“No …” she sighs. “I’m weak.”

“You’re not weak for not being able to kill someone,” I say, grabbing her shoulders. “But you did lie to my face. That was a weakness. You could’ve told me what she was doing.”

“No. If I did that, then you wouldn’t have left me alone. You would never have accepted it,” she says.

Which is kind of true. I wouldn’t ever have left her side if I knew her mother was the orchestrator behind all her actions.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “It was the only way I knew how to save you. To stop her from reaching out to you … to stop everything.” She smiles at me. “As long as you believed it, so would she.”

She sacrificed her own life—her wishes and her dreams—in order to save my life.

I take her hand off my face, turn around, and get out of the bed. I have to get out for a second. I need a breath of fresh air … away from her and the truth.

Jesus Christ. It’s just a little too much to take in all at once.

“Where are you going?” she asks as I open the door.

“I need … I’m just going for a walk,” I say, glancing over my shoulder. “You need to rest. Try to get some sleep.”

And then I walk out the door, leaving her alone with her emotions.

I shouldn’t. It’s bad, but I can’t help myself. After all we’ve been through, I can’t just turn my back on my own goal. My goal was to make her suffer, and now look at me. I’m turning into a fucking puddle of goo, all because of her side of the story.

Our story. Goddammit. I wish I knew this before.

I clean up her puke with a towel first, and then I kick the bag containing Drago’s body down the stairs.

Maybe burying his body will give me some much-needed time to think about this. To think about us and what the fuck I’m going to do with her now that I know what she did for me.

It’s hard. It’s so fucking hard; I can’t decide what to do. Continue with using and abusing her, or forgive her and move on.

Maybe there’s even a possibility …

No.

How could there be, after stabbing each other in the back so many times?

There’s nothing redeemable about us. Nothing that makes us good. Nothing that makes us worthy of love. Not me or her.

However, I still can’t stop yearning for it all. And I know she does, too.

***

A few hours later

Working with a shovel to dig up the sand has given my mind some time to store the emotions that came with hearing her story. I’m beat; sweat drips down my forehead as I’ve finally buried the body below the earth.

It’s done and over with; time to go back inside.

Thunder bangs around me, and I run my fingers through my wet hair. The rain is clashing on the roof as I walk upstairs and go into her bedroom to check up on her. She’s sound asleep, still in the bed, as she’s supposed to be. Of course, there’s no way to escape with me right in front of the door. Not that she could, as she seemed tired from the assault. And even if she could, I know that she wouldn’t … she wouldn’t run away from me, not anymore.

Not now that she told me she still loves me.

She won’t run away from me because she probably believes there’s still something worth saving.

I shake my head, wishing it were true.

I walk to the closet where I keep the assistant and give her something to eat. It takes her a while to swallow it all, as she spends half her time shouting at me instead of chewing. When she’s done, I give her something to drink through a straw. Then I stuff her mouth with the cloth again and chuck her back into the closet.

I go into the bathroom to take a nice hot shower. The water cascading down on my shoulders is a good distraction, although I still can’t seem to take my mind off her.

Vanessa. So beautifully ruined by life. Just like me.

I can’t help but feel attracted. It’s in my nature to want the things I can’t have … to desire things that are sinful.

The more I think about her, the less I can stop picturing her naked in that bed. I wonder if she’s dreaming about me the same way I’m thinking about her right now.

I sigh, looking down at the tub while the water runs down my fingers. I feel so empty, and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m used to the rage and the bloodlust coursing through my veins. But now … now there is nothing. Nothing, except an unending need. A need for her, in whatever way I can have her.

Goddammit.

I smack the wall, but it doesn’t stop the lust from building up inside me. I can’t stop thinking about her, can’t stop wondering how it could’ve been if we’d made different choices in life. Her lips, her body, her mind, her heart, it could’ve all been mine, if only …

Fuck.

I drop my head to the wall, and let the water slide down my back, warming my ass and legs. Just thinking about her now has made me half-hard, and for some reason, I feel fucking bad about it. This isn’t me. Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit if I got a hard-on; I’d just get over there and fuck her. Or, if she wasn’t around, I’d make do with a jerk. So I don’t get what the problem is now; why I’m suddenly feeling shit out of nowhere.

I bring my hand to my cock and start pulling, desperate to prove to myself that I’m still myself. I’m still a fucking rock, a man who can handle anything put in his path. I jerk until my cock is erect and bouncing up and down with need, wanting so badly to sink itself into a beautiful pussy like Vanessa’s … the only pussy it wants.

Fucking hell.

After making it thump, I stop jerking my cock and shout a few swear words into the air. I can’t fucking do it. No matter how much I try, I can’t fucking do it anymore.

I used to be able to fucking jerk-off to the thought of choking her to death. That’s how fucked up I was.

Now, all I can do is drool over her and her luscious body, her devious mind, and her sweet, delicious smile. Goddammit, she’s like a fucking annoying vixen … a tortured one at that.

I turn the faucet off, dry myself off, wrap the towel around my waist, and make my way back to the bedroom.

When I open the door, I find her rummaging around in the bed.

At first, I think she’s attempting something, like an escape or an attack, but then I notice her eyes are still closed.

She’s still dreaming.

The noises she makes sound like she’s in danger, physically in pain, emotionally distraught. Groaning, she rolls back and forth, fighting with the air around her. She gasps and grabs her own throat, screaming my name.

I step closer and grab her arms, but she won’t stop, so I crawl on top of her, and whisper into her ear, “Stop. It’s me.”

“Get off me!” she screams, but her eyes aren’t even open yet.

It’s him. She’s not dreaming about me. She’s dreaming about him. Drago. The man who tried to take from her what belongs to me.

The idea alone intensifies my need to claim her again, and to stop her from thinking about him ever again. So I force her on her belly and hold her down as she thrashes around in the bed.