Page 53 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two

Zane winces.

“I'm sorry, Liv. That came out all wrong.”

“Wrong? No, I think you said exactly what you meant.”

Zane groans and runs an agitated hand over his silky strands.

“Liv, can you blame me? You’re cutting me off, and this guy walks into the office, and— No one can get to you. You’re like Teflon. But with this asshole, it’s different?”

I want to roll my eyes, but he seems already on edge, so I keep my gaze steady.

“See?That.” Zane turns away from me and stares out the window for a long moment before taking in a deep breath and facing me again.

“I love you, Liv Rivers.” He rushes toward me, pulling me into his arms. I'm stunned by the suddenness of the movement, gasping in a way that clearly gives Zane the wrong idea.

“Zane, you’re wrong. We’re friends. That’s it,” I say, struggling to get out of his grasp, but Zane is stronger than he looks. In a second, he has my back pushed to the glass with my arms above my head.

“Youwanted to be friends withme.I never wanted just that,” he whispers. I shake my head, the strands sliding across the glass.

“I don’t feel the same way about you, Zane,” I say, still trying to protect his feelings while being twenty seconds away from completely blowing up on him.

“That’s because you haven’t opened your heart to try,” he replies. The statement makes me so angry, so overwhelmed, I let out a grating screech. He releases me, and I push him back a foot.

“Enough!” I shout, beyond caring about Zane's feelings. “Zane, I am never—and hear me clearly,never—going to be in love with you. I'mnotin love with you. You say you’re in love with me, and that’s unfortunate, because you must accept the fact that we are never going to be together like you want! Now, you have three seconds to let me go or I'm lighting your ass up.”

Zane’s expression turns hostile, and just when I'm sure this motherfucker is about to have an aneurysm, he lunges toward me.

To hell with this!

“Goddamn it, Liv!” Zane shouts when I knee him in the balls. He collapses to the floor, and I slide my hand into my pocket, bringing out my firearm. He rolls around like a beetle, and I tilt my head to the side, assessing his danger risk.

“Are you clear on what's happening here, Zane?” I say, raising my voice to be heard over the sound of his pained groans. “You're going to stop with this romantic talk. We’re going to figure out a way forward as business partners, and to help with that, I’m taking a break. I’ll be back in a few weeks, and by then, youmusthave your head on straight and be ready to work. Okay?”

Zane nods jerkily, his jaw tense.

“Good,” I reply, heading toward the foyer. With a grand flourish, I open the door and wave him through the exit. “I'll see you at work after my vacation, Zane.”

He straightens his tie and dusts himself off, walking toward the front door as if he weren’t just rolling around on my Alexander McQueen rug in agony.

“I'm sorry, Liv,” he says when he's next to me. My hand tightens on the door handle.

“Sure,” I reply, giving him a tight, closed-lip smile.

Now get the fuck out of my house.

But instead of leaving like a rational human with self-preservation, he leans toward me and kisses me. Hard. The action causes my fingers to spasm around the Ruger’s handle.

Just when I'm about to make him understand that he really shouldn’t fuck with me by clocking him in the temple with my gun, Zane’s lips wrench away from me, and I stumble back into the wall adjacent to the door.

My lungs forget how to work as I gawk at the sight in front of me.

Because standing in my entryway is none other than Storm Sandoval with an arm around Zane’s neck and a Glock pressed to my business partner’s temple.

TWELVE

STORM

One minute I’m watching Shae through the telescope from my position across the street, and the next I’m jamming my gun to that fucker Zane Gibson’s head while choking him out.