Page 81

The fact that Phoenix and I seem so compatible goes straight on the list of cruel jokes life has played on me.
My sister.
Prison.
Their unborn baby.
The lust fog in my mind clears, and reality hits me like a hot knife straight to my heart. My eyes burn, the intensity almost unbearable.
Now that Phoenix isn’t holding me down anymore, I push myself off the chair to stand there awkwardly while I try to tug up my underwear and leggings without falling over.
Phoenix studies me openly, something he does often and never hides. He’s probably always waiting for me to stab him in the back again.
The words “I’m sorry” want to rise to the top of my throat, but I swallow them. The same way I do every single time. Because what am I going to say to him? Sorry I didn’t tell you some psychopath forced me to put you in prison? Or sorry, I got my sister killed and didn’t want anyone else to die, so you had to go away instead?
It might be the truth, but it sounds far from it.
And he lost so much because of me. Not just three years of his life while he was behind bars, but he also lost part of his reputation and good standing in the community, and his family and their company also suffered.
I swallow back the rising bile in my throat. No punishment will ever be big enough to compensate for the destruction I’ve brought to so many lives, despite how much I wish there was.
His silent perusal of me makes everything ten times worse because I know he wants me to trip up and spill my deepest, darkest secrets to him. And I don’t blame him. Of course he’d like to know why I put him in prison. We were friends, and I was almost his sister-in-law. I once thought we could have something good together. A future even. We never crossed that line, but we got along. We liked each other—a lot.
His phone beeps, and he takes it out of his pocket. “Jo will be here in an hour. Go get cleaned up.”
While his voice is gentle, it’s still a dismissal, and I take it, rushing out of the room without another glance or word.
Jo chucklesand puts her bags on the table. “It seems like our work last week did the trick. I blushed a little when I saw the video of you guys. That was one hell of a kiss.”
I clear my throat, trying not to choke on my spit. “Uh, yeah. That might have been a bit too much for the public.”
She pauses with the curling iron halfway out of her bag to look at me. “If anyone ever ravished me the way Phoenix ravished you, someone would probably have to pry myhands off him. That was the kind of kiss you only read about in romance novels. So hot.”
I avert my gaze, hoping she takes it as a form of being flustered and not for what it really is: a silent admission to being a screwed-up masochist because, damn it, I liked how he ravished me too.
And the way he made you come just an hour ago when he bent you over his knee and spanked you.
I should hate every single one of his touches, absolutely loathe them.
But I can’t.
Instead, my thoughts have been jumping back and forth between memories of how good he made me feel, self-loathing over what we did, guilt because he was my sister’s fiancé, and how there’s no way to reconcile all of those things. No matter how hard I try, it’s impossible to fit all of them into one box.
Is there something like a multiple feelings disorder? I should really talk to a professional about this.
While Jo is still busy setting up her things, I distract myself by eating some of the cheese and grapes Huxley brought up. The food practically melts on my tongue, and I let out a little sigh. There’s nothing food can’t make better. At least, that’s what I like to tell myself.
Jo straightens up once she’s done and points at the open garment bag I draped over the edge of the bed. “Are we going all dark era tonight with your dress? It’s magnificent. All eyes will be on you in that sexy number, that’s for sure.”
The black dress is beautiful with its gathered fabric at the bodice and neckline, the floor-sweeping hem, small train, and the leg slit almost upto the hip.
With the media frenzy still at an all-time high, I wish I wouldn’t draw much attention tonight.
I’d much rather curl up in a corner somewhere and hide from my life. Hide from Phoenix, my societal responsibilities, my lies and betrayal, and my past. From everything really at this point. What I wouldn’t give to dive into a fantasy world with a good book where I live someone else’s life for a while and forget my own.
Yet, here I am.
“Ready?” Jo points at the seat.