Destiny Mine (Tormentor Mine #3)(87)

“You thought it was an excuse? No, it happened.” Not because I was ill, though. I bite the inside of my cheek, then decide not to start our married life with a lie—even one by omission.

I wait until we enter the apartment, and then I say in a calmer tone, “Peter… there’s something you should know. Agent Ryson came here today, right before I left.”

He turns into a statue, then pivots to face me, incredulous. “What?”

“Not in any official capacity,” I hasten to reassure him. “He just wanted to talk to me.”

His big hands clench at his sides. “Why?”

“I think… I think he was frustrated. Over how everything turned out. He thinks I lied to him, and that we”—I swallow, my throat burning—“conspired to kill George. That I wanted you to get rid of George because he was brain-damaged and an alcoholic I was already planning to divorce.”

Peter swears low under his breath. “That fucking ublyudok. I should’ve—” He stops and takes a calming breath. In a softer tone, he asks, “Did he upset you, ptichka?” Stepping toward me, he gently captures my chin, making me look up at him. “Is that why you were going to bail?”

I manage a tiny nod. “I’m sorry about that. I really am. It was already happening so fast, and then he came and…” I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them to meet his storm-gray gaze again. “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t thinking straight.”

Peter moves his hand across my jawline, the touch soft and tender. “What else did he tell you, my love?”

“Nothing. He was just— Oh, he did say that if you do anything else of criminal nature, the deal would be null and void… and that they now have my number as well.”

Peter’s gaze hardens again. “I see.” He steps back, dropping his hand, and I realize that he’s angry—as angry as I’ve ever seen him.

Suddenly worried, I step forward, catching his hand in both of mine. “You’re not going to do anything to him, right? I told you this because I don’t want to have any kind of lies between us—not because I want you to punish Ryson.”

He doesn’t respond, but I glean my answer in the tight set of his jaw and the rigidity of his palm in my hold.

“Peter, don’t, please. Listen to me…” I squeeze his hand. “He’s a federal agent, and he wants you to slip up. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s why he came here today: to provoke you and make sure that you violate the terms of the deal. Don’t play his game. It’s not worth it.”

Peter’s expression doesn’t change. “Are you worried about him or me?”

I release his hand. “Both, of course. I don’t want you to hurt him—and I definitely don’t want you to get in trouble because of him.”

“Hmm.” Peter gently strokes the side of my face again. “I wonder.”

I moisten my lips. “Wonder what?”

“Would you be happy if I just went away and let you be? If I got in trouble and had to leave for good?”

I blink at him. “But… you wouldn’t do that. You’d take me with you, right? If you had to leave?”

His gaze darkens. “Maybe. Is that what you would want, ptichka?”

My chest tightens, constricting my breath. “Peter… I…”

“You still can’t bring yourself to say it, can you?” He captures my chin again, making me meet his gaze. His voice holds a strange note. “You can’t admit that this is mutual, that I’m not the only one who’s mad.”

I swallow thickly and back away, twisting out of his hold. “It’s not like that.”

“No?” He comes after me, as relentless as a shark. “Tell me why you nearly ran today, then. Tell me what it is about Ryson’s visit that got to you like that.”

I keep backing away until my back presses against the wall. “I already told you. I told you everything.”

“Not everything.” He presses his palms on the wall on either side of me, caging me once more. His tone is both cruel and tender as he murmurs, “Not nearly everything, my love.”

I stare up at him, my pulse beating in my temples. I don’t understand what he’s after, what it is that he wants from me. “Peter, please. I’m sorry about today. I really, truly am. I was so upset I wasn’t thinking, but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have…” I shake my head.

“No, you really shouldn’t have,” he agrees, his eyes darkening further, and then, with no warning, he hooks his hand into the bodice of my dress and yanks it down with startling savagery, ripping the handmade lace and sending the pearl buttons skittering on the tile floor.

Gasping, I clutch at the top of the torn dress, but Peter spins me around, pressing my face against the wall. “You really, really shouldn’t have,” he growls in my ear and yanks the dress all the way down, making it pool around my knees.

I’m left in my white strapless bra and thong underwear—sexy, lacy pieces I wore to match the dress. They don’t last more than a moment either, as Peter rips them off me, leaving me completely naked.

Panting, I press my palms against the wall, expecting him to kick my legs apart and fuck me, but instead, his powerful arm slides around my ribcage, lifting me out of the remnants of the dress. My shoes, with their thin straps around the ankles, remain on my feet, even as my legs flail in the air as he ruthlessly carries me to the bedroom.