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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
GIA
If Royce doesn’t start talking to me soon, I’m going to lose my mind.
The wind screeches outside and whips snow against the windowpane, leaving a frost trail in its wake. It’s like the inside of my mind right now—cold and turbulent. Bianca’s tiny face presses against the pane and she laughs, looking up at me with a bright smile.
At least she’s oblivious.
I don’t know what I would do if she was older and watching the war between me and her father. How do you explain to a child that even though you once loved someone, they’re hell-bent on tearing your life apart?
Or perhaps not tearing my life apart, but he certainly isn’t making it easier to carry on with life either.
As I spin away from the window, spine stiff and heart hammering with frustration, I have half a mind to go to him and start demanding answers. Consequences be damned. I need to know that Bianca is going to be safe.
Two days of tense looks from Royce. Nothing but near silence—no explanation for whatever the fuck is going on.
If we’re going to be stuck in this house—this damn tomb—then he owes me more than sarcastic smiles and half-assed answers.
He owes our daughter more than that.
And today, I’m going to get those answers. I walk down the hall, each step echoing with determination, the loudest noise that’s occurred in days.
And the reason why it’s so quiet has to do with the man sitting in his study, glancing up at me through the open door every now and then, but never actually saying anything.
“Are you going to keep staring at us?” I ask when he looks up again, my tone sharp.
An amused smirk curves the corner of his mouth. “Maybe.”
“No. You don’t get to spend the last two days barely talking to me, and then you sit there and act charming and think it’s going to keep your ass from being grass. That’s not how this works.”
He leans back in his chair as I leave Bianca and head for the doorway. Hands link behind his head, his t-shirt rising and showing off a sliver of his toned stomach above his jeans.
Down girl, I think as a heat builds low in my core, clenching tight. Now isn’t the time to lose my head over a man.
Even if it feels like I’ve been losing my mind over him since the day we met.
“And what makes you think that I can’t do exactly that? It seems to work on you most of the time.”
“You’re infuriating. You’ve barely spoken to me since your siblings came to visit, and every time I ask you why, you won’t talk to me.” I cross my arms, slumping against the frame.
If I get any closer to him, I’m sure it will be all too easy to forget why I’m mad at him.
I take a deep breath, gearing up for everything I have to say next. “I know that we aren’t anything other than co-parents to each other, but I think we need to talk.”
He gestures to the suede chair on the other side of the white oak desk. “Take a seat if you want to talk.”
Scoffing, I push off the doorway. “Nope. I’m not going to sit in there like I’m someone getting lectured for doing something bad. You’re going to come out here, help me make dinner, and we’re going to talk like we’re equals.”
Royce studies me for a moment, the corners of his eyes crinkling before he gets up and strides across the worn wood floors to me. He stops inches in front of me, making my heart seize in my chest.
His hand rises and I fight the urge to flinch. Right now, he doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to fight with me. There’s not that dark gleam to his eyes that I love and hate at the same time.
When the scent of his spicy and sweet cologne circles around me, his fingers coming up to brush a strand of my hair behind my ear, I almost forget what I came in here to talk about.
While being with him is a rush, there’s a part of me that loathes the hold he has over me.
He props one arm in the doorway above my head, leaning down until his face is hovering inches from mine. “You want to go work out whatever your problem is some other way?”
I smile sweetly before reaching between us and flicking him through his zipper. “No.”
Royce groans for a moment, shifting away from me. “You’re going to get your ass handed to you for that.”
“Yeah, well, that can come after I’m done ripping you a new one.” I head for the kitchen, knowing that he’s going to trail close behind me. “You’ve kept me in a place called Devil’s Hole for over a week now with nothing to do. I need to make money. I need to talk to someone other than you and a baby.”
He grabs me by the hand and pulls me back to him. I don’t hesitate, ramming my knee upward, driving it into his balls and dropping him to the ground.
“And that’s another thing! You can’t just manhandle me like I’m your damn property! You’re not the one in control here. Not anymore.”
He chuckles darkly as he straightens, closing the space between us quickly, crowding me back against the wall until every inch of his body is pressed against mine.
That dark gleam enters his eyes. “You want to try saying that again?”
My hand slips into my pocket and I pull out a small knife, flicking it open and bringing the edge to the soft spot just beneath his jaw before he has the chance to react.
His gaze hardens. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Since you don’t want to listen to me while I’m trying to be civil, this is how we’re going to handle things from now on.” I press the blade deeper against his throat, digging it in until a couple drops of blood show.
He hisses but doesn’t pull back, his gaze still locked on mine. “Drop it.”
“I could slit your throat right now and it would be easy. Wouldn’t think twice about it.”
Royce’s hand skates across my hip, his fingers sinking into my body so hard I’m sure there are going to be bruises in the morning. “You’re not the kind, Gia.”
“You don’t know the first thing about me if you think that.” My hand is steady as I drag the blade along his jaw, not cutting deep enough to seriously hurt him, but extending the shallow cut.
The second I reach the halfway point, his hand drops from my body. “What do you want?”
“Willing to negotiate now?” I move the tip of the blade to hover over his jugular. “I want to be able to make money. Let me do something other than sit around.”
“Take the knife away from my throat and maybe I’ll think about it.” That cocky little smirk is back on his face as I drop the knife and take a step back.
He scowls at me as he enters the kitchen and rounds the counter, pulling some chorizo out of the fridge and dropping it on the counter. “I can provide for you just fine. You’re being held hostage. You’re not working.”
“I have my paints. Just let me talk to Kat. She can get me pictures from the museum, and I can work on a couple different ones while I’m here. It would be good to get ahead.”
Royce grabs a white onion and a knife, putting both on the cutting board and getting to work chopping it into small pieces. “You can paint all you want, but I’m not going to help you sell forgeries.”
“Why not? You could stand to make some good money from it.” I grab some paper towels and clean off my knife before folding it and tucking it back into my pocket.
He stops what he’s doing and storms over to me, pulling the knife from my pocket and tossing it up on top of the cabinets where I can’t reach. He looks pleased with himself as he turns back to the dinner prep. “I have more money than I could need for the rest of my life coming through several legitimate businesses. Even more through the illegal ones.”
I get out a frying pan and splash some avocado oil into it. “I know you have money, but I need more. I need to feel like I’m doing something here, not just waiting around to either die or have to figure out the rest of my future.”
He spins and takes me by the chin, forcing me to look at him. “I’m not going to let you or Bianca die.”
Sparks fly at the possessive touch, even as I pull away from him. “I don’t think you have the power to control that.”
How the hell are we arguing about this again?
“I do.”
He says the words with such a surety that I want to believe him. More than anything I want to believe that the man in front of me has the power to move heaven and hell to keep me safe, but I know that he can’t.
Noah is an animal. He won’t let go of this and he won’t let me out of his control.
“At least let me talk to Kat or Zoe,” I say, changing the subject and turning my attention to frying the meat with some crushed garlic from the fridge. “Please.”
Royce huffs. “You can’t. You have to know that. I have a single secured phone here, and we can’t risk you putting in a call to anyone on the outside.”
“You get to talk to people on the outside.”
His jaw clenches as he gets to work slicing bell peppers. “I get one call once a week to tell me how things are going.”
“That’s still more than I get. I feel like I’m dying, Royce.”
“Good to know spending time with me is so much fun for you,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his words as he dumps the vegetables into the frying pan. “I don’t like this any more than you do, Gia, but this is the hand we’ve been dealt.”
“What did your brother say when you were talking to him the other day? I saw you. It didn’t look like you liked the tone of the conversation.”
“You’re a dog with a fucking bone with this, you know that?” He washes the knife and sets it in the drying rack. “I told you that when I felt I could trust you, then I would start telling you what’s going on. You’ve done nothing to prove that I can trust you. Hell, one of us had to tell my sister about Bianca, and since it wasn’t me, I’m assuming it was you. And you just had a fucking knife to my throat.”
My cheeks warm. “You deserved it.”
He gives me a flat look. “And Skyla?”
“She asked and I didn’t want to lie to your sister. We’re family—in a way—and I don’t want her to hate me.”
“She wouldn’t have hated you.” Royce sighs, leaning against the counter and crossing one leg over the other. “She does think this is stupid and bound to blow up in our faces.”
“What did you tell her?”
There’s a sharp pain seizing my chest as I think about all the things that could go wrong.
This is why I shouldn’t rely on him. I should be working right now and making an income for me and Bianca. I shouldn’t be sitting here, waiting for the next move. I need to get out and get my life together.
I can’t keep waiting to see if one man in my life isn’t going to try to control me.
But the thought of leaving Royce and having to face Noah without him terrifies me.
And then there’s the thought of hurting Royce again.
I can’t do it.
Royce rubs his temples. “I’m tired of fighting with you all the time. I’m exhausted from having to think three steps ahead of you just in case you’re going to pick a new topic to fight about today. I just want to get through this. Preferably without you slicing open my damn throat.”
The words strike a chord within me, bringing the temper flaring back to life.
“You’re the one who kidnapped me, but I’m the problem?” I snort and stir the food in the pan, the scent of garlic filling the air. “You have got to be kidding me, Royce. You’re keeping me here like a damn prisoner.”
“Because you are.”
Hearing him put it so bluntly knocks the air from my lungs, sending the ground slipping away from beneath me.
He pushes off the counter, going to the playpen and looking at Bianca when she starts to whine. “Hey, kiddo, everything is fine. You just need some dinner.”
I see red as he walks into the kitchen and grabs the leftover rice from last night, setting it in the microwave and heating it up. “I can take care of her.”
“And we’re circling back to this.” He rolls his eyes as the microwave beeps. “You don’t need to be the only person taking care of Bianca, just like you don’t need to work your ass off to provide for her anymore. I’m here and I can help.”
“I don’t need your help!” I toss my hands in the air and with them goes the wooden spoon, sending a spattering of chorizo grease to the ceiling. “Shit.”
Royce sighs and grabs a cloth, climbing on top of the counter and cleaning up the mess. “I know you don’t need it, but there’s no reason for you to keep doing this on your own anymore. I’m here and I have the money to take care of both of you. I want to.”
“No! I handled everything fine on my own since the day you left. I’ve spent eighteen months of Bianca’s life raising her, then you show up a couple weeks ago and you think that you just get to be here and take care of her?”
I set the spoon to the side and take the bowl of rice from him, putting it on the tray of the high chair before pulling out some leftover chicken cut into tiny pieces too.
“Gia, you have to stop this. I can help.”
Biting back the tears of frustration that bubble to the surface, I turn to him, wishing that the knife was back in my pocket. I don’t know what I would do with it, but stabbing him might be a start. “I don’t need your help. We don’t need it. I can handle this on my own.”
Maybe. I might be able to.
Attempting to would at least be better than continuing to put up with him.
“And you’re still not listening to me! I’m telling you that I don’t need to and that I can handle this on my own, but all you’re hearing is that you need to put yourself in the middle of it because heaven forbid I control my own life.”
Royce pulls himself to his full height, and it sucks all the air from the room. He steps closer to me, taking my jaw in his hand, forcing me to make eye contact with him. “I get it, you don’t want my help, and you don’t need it, but it’s here.”
“Because I’m being kept as a prisoner.” I swipe the first tear that falls, determined to not let another follow it.
He grinds his teeth together, fingers pressing a little harder. “Yes, that is exactly what you are, but at least I’m not leaving you for dead like your brother is right now.”
When his hand moves away, I focus on the food, trying to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks. I don’t need to deal with this.
Being back with Noah might be better than this.
“Are you kidding me?” I turn down the pan so the food doesn’t burn. “You think that Noah is leaving me for dead based on the fact that he doesn’t make rash decisions?”
Royce scoffs and swipes his keys from the counter, heading for the front door. “I’m done arguing about this, Gia. I understand where you’re coming from, but I’m not going to stand here and go in circles with you. When you want to actually talk things out, let me know.”
He rips open the door as I follow him into the front hall.
An apology is on the tip of my tongue as he stops on the front porch and turns around. His mouth opens and closes a couple times before he points at me, keys jingling from his finger.
“Matt is going to stay here and watch over you and Bianca. I need some space.”
“Of course you do.” The apology dies as I’m taken back to two and a half years ago, when he left me standing in the doorway after the worst fight we’ve ever had.
This is what I was scared of, and this is what I’ve pushed him into.
“Go ahead and leave, Royce; it’s what you’re good at. I should’ve known that you were never going to change.”
He looks like he’s seconds away from his head blowing up. “Sure, Gia. Whatever you want to tell yourself. Maybe you should spend some time thinking about what ruined us in the first place.”
Royce storms back over to me, his hand wrapping around my throat. He slams me back into the wall. The rough siding bites into my back, the air cold, though it might not be the air making my nipples stiff.
Now isn’t the time.
Royce’s fingers tighten around my neck, pressing against my pulse, making my head lighter. My heart pounds as I reach up, fingernails sinking into his skin as I try to pull his hand away from me.
“I could kill you right now. I told you to fucking drop it and you didn’t. You keep pushing. You think you’re entitled to anything more than ending up in a fucking grave?” he says, his voice gravelly, his face close to mine.
Tearing at his hand is all I can do, but he doesn’t let go. No, the sick bastard enjoys this. Arguing was always what we were best at.
His fingers flex. “You are a prisoner here. It’s the best you’re going to get. Until you learn to fucking control yourself, that’s all you’re ever going to be.”
I drive my knee upward, hitting his thigh instead of his balls. He leans to the side, his grip loosening enough for me to shove him away. I should have brought a knife with me. Something that I could use to stab the bastard for all that he’s done and all that he’s ruined. For the way he took me and my daughter from our home.
When he drops his hand from my throat and takes a step back, it somehow feels worse than when it was there.
His tongue slides over the top row of his teeth. “When you’re ready to grow the fuck up, maybe I’ll be back.”
Royce gets in the car, gunning it to life as Matt appears on the porch with a rifle slung over his back.
He looks between me and the car as it reverses down the driveway. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re both too fucked to function most of the time, but there has to be a reason you were brought back together.”
“To run me into an early grave.” I give him a smile, reaching up to wipe away another tear.
I’ve spent too much of my time crying over Royce Lynde.
Never again.
The bitter wind makes the tears on my cheeks sting. My head aches and whether it’s from Royce trying to cut off my oxygen or the part of me that feels like it’s been torn away, I don’t know.
It doesn’t matter.
This time, if I fall apart, it won’t be over him—even if that means facing Noah or carving out a new life for myself on my own.