A Single Glance (Irresistible Attraction #1)(13)

Jase





Lies. I hear the word in my head over the sound of the armoire crashing to the bedroom floor. I turn the speakers down, but continue to watch her trash the guest bedroom.

I’m not surprised she’s destroying everything she can.

As I dragged her to the guest bedroom, she never stopped fighting, and I never stopped hearing the hiss in my head. Lies.

Never tell a lie, my younger brother, Tyler, once told me. I was fucking around with him about something when we were kids. I don’t remember what, but he looked up at me and the words he spoke stuck with me forever.

A lie you have to remember. So never lie, it will only fuck you over.

I can still see the smug look grow on his face as I felt the weight of his words. He was an old soul and had a good heart. Never tell a lie. He’d be ashamed of the man I became.

The screaming that comes from the faint sound of the speakers brings me back to now, back to the present where I keep fucking up.

One mistake after the other, falling like dominos.

I stare at her form on the screen as she pounds her fists against the door, screaming to be let go. Bethany Fawn’s throat is going to hurt tonight. It already sounds sore and raw from her fighting.

It’s useless. Part of me itches to hit the release on her door to let her roam throughout my wing, struggling with every locked window, with the doors that will never open for her. Just to prove a point.

I can’t blame her though and as she falls to her knees, violently wiping away the tears under her eyes as if they’re a badge of dishonor, I hurt for her. For the woman she is, and for the woman I once knew who did the same thing.

She fought too. She fought and she lost.

It’s so easy to hide behind anger, but it gets you nowhere. I can help her though. I need this too. The very thought of what I could do for her makes my blood ring with desire.

“I hate you!” Bethany’s words are barely heard through the speaker, seeing as how I’ve turned them down so low.

In an attempt to ignore the thoughts and where they’re headed, I check my phone and notice a flurry of texts, coming one after the other.

I text my brother, Carter, back without reading much of what he wrote. I’m busy. Can we talk tonight?

His response is immediate. We need to talk about how we’re going to deal with this situation.

This situation … meaning Romano. The next name on a list of men I’ll put ten feet in the ground.

A grunt barely makes its way through my clenched teeth as I write him back. Push him out of his window, his own property.

Let his body fall onto the spiked fence surrounding his estate.

Make an example of him.

I keep messaging him as the thoughts come, one line after the other.

Carter’s answer doesn’t come for longer than I’d like. My gaze is drawn again to Bethany, lying exhausted on the floor, and covering her face to hide the pain.

Fuck. I don’t know how the hell it came to this.

Finally, he answers. It’s not that easy. There are complications.

I stare at my phone, but my attention is brought back to the security monitors when Bethany finally stands, making her way to the bed. She stares at the door for a long time, sitting cross-legged and tense.

Jase, we need to wait for this one.

I don’t have time for complications. I don’t have patience for this. I don’t have a desire for any of this. He should be dead already.

I turn off the phone, unwilling to spend another second dealing with this shit.

I want to get lost and find myself somewhere else.

Glancing at the screen, I watch Bethany pull a book into her lap. She must’ve gotten it from her purse. I went through the contents of her bag before I retrieved her from the trunk. Everything’s there, except for her keys and a pen. I’ve seen both used in more violent ways than one could imagine.

She brushes the hair away from her face, showing me her vulnerability as she closes her eyes, and calms herself down.

I can get lost in her.

I lock the door to my office as I make my way to her, letting the keys clink against one another. My thumb runs along the jagged teeth of the key to the guest room as I think about stealing the fight from her, dragging it out of her and giving her so much more.

I’m careful with the lock, even more careful as I silently push open the door to her room. I don’t stop at a crack, I keep pushing until the door is wide open and I can easily step through the threshold. It’s quiet, so quiet in fact, that at first I don’t see her.

Her small form is still on the bed, and only the sound of a page turning alerts me to where she is. With the overturned dresser, splintered wood and ripped curtains, she could have been hiding anywhere in here.

She ripped out every drawer. She threw two across the room, denting the drywall and cracking the walnut furniture.

Fragments of wood litter a corner of the room where she demolished a drawer, slamming it on top of another.

What a waste of energy. She should’ve saved it for this moment.

Instead the poor girl is still, curled up in a ball, and has her nose buried in the book.

She still doesn’t see me, not even as I take a step forward, carefully stepping over a broken drawer.

The empty dresser, thick damask curtains and neatly made bed with bright white linens were all that were in the room. And now the fabric is heaped on the floor, the curtains ripped from the oil-rubbed bronze finishings and the armoire is … wrecked.