Page 29 of A Lethal Game of Trust

I didn’t need a fucking bodyguard.

I just shook my head, already exasperated by the minute I’d spent with him.

“Or as your boyfriend?”

Shoving past him to his bedroom, I found his bed sheetless and a condom wrapper on the floor.

Amazing.

I wished I was surprised.

“When I cancelled on you, you were so overcome with anger you ended up fucking someone else between calling me,” I said with a laugh. “Unbelievable.”

He was a wall before me, face red in anger. “What, like you’re not fucking Belov out there?”

No matter what I said, he wouldn’t listen. Once he got something stuck in his head it would eat away at him. For the last two years, I had to remind myself he served a bigger purpose.

“I’m getting my shit and I’m going,” I said, pulling out the clothes from my drawer. Damn, I should have brought bags.

“No,” he barked, slamming the drawer shut.

I didn’t manage to pull away in time, scraping the back of my hand and hissing, clutching it to my chest.

He didn’t care, continuing, “You’re not taking your things. You don’t need to do this.”

“Why?” I said, whipping around to face him. “Why don’t I need to do this? Because youloveme? Or because you plan on spending my inheritance on a nice family house? Or because you see me as a trophy wife but seeyourselfas a player who will still fuck anyone and everyone else?”

“Leo—”

“They don’t add up!” I shouted, the throbbing pain of my hand pushing me to finally have this conversation. “I am not expendable. I am not entertainment, nor am I a backup. I am the priority; there is no alternative. I am no longer one of youroptions.”

His face was red with anger and he grabbed my injured hand to pull me close to him. I winced at the sharp sting, tears pricking my eyes. There was blood on his skin from where he gripped me.

His voice dropped low as he brushed my hair back. One hand gentle, one hand violent. “But you were an option last night. So what changed?”

At the same time, I stamped on his bare foot and jabbed an elbow up into his chin as three raps sounded at his bedroom door. He swore and keeled over, cupping his jaw. “Fuck!”

Dom leaned against the door frame, a roll of bin bags in his hand, a huge grin across his face.

“What’s happening over here?” he asked and I could almost hear the pride in his voice. His eyes flickered between Jared’s foot, my hand and the clothes now on the floor.

Jared watched him approach cautiously, still comforting himself. “Nothing, mate, we’re just talking—”

“I wasn’t speaking to you.” He put his arm over my shoulders and pulled me close. When he spoke into my hair, his voice was soft, “What’s happening? Are you okay?”

I nodded and looked down at the blood smeared across my hand. “I want to go home.”

Jared wasn’t worth it.

Dom’s voice was comforting, “Let’s get your stuff and then you’ll never have to come back here.”

“Leo, let’s—”

“Nah,” interrupted Dom, lifting a finger to silence him as he pulled me into his chest. “It’s best you don’t speak to her, you’ll only piss me off more. Make yourself useful and grab any of her other things.” He ripped off one of the binbags and shoved it into Jared’s chest before gesturing to the door. I felt Jared’s gaze on me before he finally huffed and left.

Dom took my hand and examined the damage. He was so peaceful. His voice, his movements. “I’ll pick up the stuff here and you go and get in the car. I have antiseptic wipes in the glove box.”

“Are you going to kill him?”