Perfect Ruin (Unyielding #2)(29)

I glanced up at him and our eyes locked. He was no longer talking on the phone, but was watching me. Nothing else existed except us.

My breath stopped.

He must have seen it. Seen the realization. Seen something in my eyes because he did what we both knew was the only option.

He walked out.





FUCK, ONLY THREE weeks.

Three weeks since I walked out of her loft and took the first flight out of New York to Toronto. I’d met up with Chaos and went over a new assignment, went to Vault’s Toronto house and saw Brice and Glen, emailed Mother, because I didn’t care to hear her voice, plus it was easier lying in an email.

But I was distracted. Uneasy. The cool steady calm that normally filtered through me had slowed to a trickle and instead, I was on edge, the sensation of sandpaper being constantly rubbed against my skin.

Unable to sleep, I stayed up and read about f*ckin’ chemistry. Chemistry. I had no interest in chemistry, but it linked me to her. To London.

I followed my gut instinct because that was always a certainty. Most people ignored it, but if that became a habit? a person would slowly become numb to what their instincts were telling them.

I didn’t. I listened to every single one. Maybe because I had nothing to lose by taking a chance. Maybe because I’d never given a shit if I died.

But at that moment, my guts were speaking loud and f*ckin’ clear. Something was off, but I didn’t know what. It had been that way ever since I walked out of London’s door after seeing her face. Fuck, I told her it was better she didn’t like me.

I had to leave and never go back for her sake more than mine. I’d already risked a lot by being with her. Selfish. That was what it had been. But I hadn’t been able to resist her after feeling her beneath me on the hood of my car. After finally touching her.

It was pure lust when I’d seen her picture for the first time two years ago when I’d been assigned to her father. She had an innocence about her, a quietness that played across her face, but there was also a stubborn quirk that lay beneath the natural beauty. It was cute and refreshing. I was never attracted to that type of woman because the quiet, innocent ones would be terrified of me. I f*cked women who wanted what I did… no strings.

It was when I saw her in person that everything went to shit. I’d flown to New York to check up on her father and went to the house she shared with some other students.

I’d been sitting outside at a café sipping an espresso when she emerged from her house across the street with one of her roommates. I knew the other girl was a roommate because I’d checked into everyone surrounding London and her father.

London’s head was tilted back as she laughed at something her friend said, neck exposed, eyes bright and filled with lightness. A lightness I wanted to grab and hold onto. She gently laid her hand on her friend’s arm and the sweet gesture was like being wrapped in her warmth. As she walked in my direction, her hips swayed, not provocatively, naturally.

Her smile was genuine and filtered into the passersby as if it were infectious. I found myself smiling too as I sat back in my chair, legs out, ankles crossed as I watched her.

Then I saw her stop and crouch in front of an old woman sitting on a subway grate, bags all around her and a shopping cart filled with garbage. Well, what I considered garbage, but I was certain the homeless lady didn’t think so.

London reached in her school bag and pulled out what looked like a sandwich and passed it to her. The old woman, who had been moaning and frowning, looked at London and smiled revealing her rotting teeth. London smiled back then put her hand on the woman’s arm and said something to her. And still to this day, I wanted to know what she said. Not that the words were important. But because that single moment changed the course of my life.

I never gave a shit about the homeless. Never thought about them until that moment. I didn’t know what it was, maybe the simple, quiet gesture. Her softness. Her caring. It was something I completely lacked and London’s compassion fed me lightness that filled the dark rift inside me.

It began my need to watch her. I pretended it was to make certain she didn’t become a by-product of Vault’s needs, and it was partially, but it was far more than that. I was addicted to her.

I found myself coming to New York more than I needed to, just so I could feel that lightness again.

But London played with my control even though she didn’t know it. I was on a tether being pulled tight, waiting for it to snap. And it f*ckin’ had snapped when I finally had a chance to have her. Taste her. And for the first time in my life, I was uncertain what I’d have done if she’d said no that first time when I held her against the fridge.

I was a bastard for accepting her ridiculous deal. But I’d thought if I had her, tasted her, f*cked her, then my constant need would finally be sated and I could forget her.

It didn’t. My need strengthened. Insatiable. And it was dangerous.

Reading people was part of my training, their eye movements, gestures, the slightest shift in weight, and London was an open book with the pages filled with big bold writing.

The last day I’d been with her… her standing beside the table at her loft, me standing on the other side of the room having just gotten off the phone with Chaos—Georgie. I saw the realization in her eyes that this was more than some deal.

It was the end to what never had the chance to begin. But f*ck, for a split second, I wanted to hold onto her and stay.