Wretched (Never After Series)(27)

It’s just Eveline and me in the basement of The Yellow Brick. We’re sitting at a long, heavy oak table with a pile of dirty cash on one side, bundled cash on the other, and a money counter right in the middle.

Eveline is currently taking handfuls of the unbound money and funneling them through the machine. The flipping of the dollars creates a buzzing noise similar to a fan in a quiet room, and despite what I witnessed just a few hours earlier, I feel calm.

And so does she. She seems normal. Completely in control. Which is so different to how she was a few hours ago with Benny.

How can someone so fucking beautiful be so goddamn bad?

“Stop staring at me.”

I push my chair off the ground with my heels, balancing on the back two legs. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

She glances up at me. “About what?”

“This.” I wave my arm around the room.

She laughs. “You, the jewel thief, are surprised by piles of cash?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m surprised you’re so involved. And so violent. You should probably see someone about that.”

Her brows draw down as the counter spits out another stack. She bands it, then places it to the side. “Surprised because I’m a woman?”

“No, because you’re you.”

I don’t even know what I mean by that statement, which isn’t wholly shocking considering I can’t even figure out how the hell I feel. I fucked this woman. I’m insanely attracted to her despite her being unhinged, but I can’t correlate the woman I pictured her as when we first met with who she is now. Because now, she’s who I’m fighting against. She’s part of the problem I’m trying to fix.

She pauses, placing a handful of cash back in the unbound pile. Her tongue flicks out, the metal barbell skimming across her lower lip as she stares.

My stomach jolts.

“Well, this is me.”

“Unfortunately,” I mutter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She tilts her head.

I shrug, knowing I shouldn’t prod her but not being able to stop myself. “Just means maybe your sister was right.”

Her jaw clenches. “My sister knows nothing about me.”

“At least she knows how to treat people.”

“Great, go bother her then.”

I grin. “Am I annoying you, sweetheart?”

She slams her hands on the table, making everything shake and she shoves back her chair to stand. She leans in, her breasts spilling from the top of her shirt and my gaze drops, because I can’t not take advantage of the view when she’s so willing to offer it up.

A flush creeps along her collarbone and scores up her neck, the way it always does when I make her angry.

My cock pulses.

“I am not your fucking sweetheart,” she says through clenched teeth. “And for the record, everything about you annoys me. The way you walk. The way you constantly show up any place I am. The way you ask question after question yet never seem to have a single answer.”

My lips tilt up.

She points a finger. “Those stupid fucking dimples on your cheeks.”

The smile grows. I drop the front legs of my chair back down and rest my elbows on the table, propping my chin in my hand. “Give it to me, baby. What else?”

“I hate the way you stare at me,” she continues.

I’m half paying attention, my mind too busy wondering how far the blush on her chest goes, and what else I could do to make her flush so pink.

“And—” She raises her voice. “You’re a liar.”

The amusement washes away at her words and now it’s me pushing into a stand, my fists pressing against the table. “I am not a liar.”

“Please,” she scoffs. “All you’ve ever done is lie to me.”

I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Here we fucking go. Is this because of the name thing?”

“It’s because of your general existence.”

“Sweetheart,” I sigh. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

She slaps her hands against the wood again. “I told you not to call me that.”

I chuckle, imagining how satisfying it would be to reach out and strangle her, just to shut her the fuck up. “And I told you that I’m not your bitch.”

The blaze in her eyes is so intense I swear it soars across the air and sinks into my skin until I’m burning from the inside out.

She smirks. “Debatable.”

One second I’m thinking about how much I want to choke the brat out of her and the next I am, my hand shooting across the table and wrapping around her neck.

She sucks in a sharp breath but doesn’t fight me, the man she claims to hate so much.

The man who’s supposed to hate her.

And that pisses me off even more, because I do hate her. I can’t fucking stand who this girl is. I would give anything to reach inside of her and pull out the woman I met that night at the club.

She’s the one I’m interested in, the one I’m dying to see.

And when Eveline moves in close, elongating her neck as if she wants me to mark her with my prints, I think maybe I’ve found her.

But then, she purses her lips and spits.