Page 25 of Hate Me Like You Mean It

There was a three-second delay before the alarm fully triggered in his head. He cursed and stormed toward the window overlooking the large garden he hadn’t thought to fence off… or what was left of it, that is.

I followed him, a giddy sense of karmic satisfaction swirling through me as he gaped down at the massacre. Slowly, his fists clenched, his jaw clamped shut, and every muscle in his body coiled with seething, volcanic rage.

His fury was palpable. If I stuck my tongue out, I’d be able to taste it.

His head whipped in my direction, eyes wild, forehead veins throbbing.

Well, well, well. I’d been expecting a reaction, but not one this intense. I’d apparently struck a pretty big nerve. How lucky.

Feigning ditzy confusion, I frowned up at him. “Dominic? Are you okay? You look mad.”

His left eyelid twitched. His looming stance became more menacing.

If hedidn’tstrangle me to death, it would only be because hurling me out the window first had already done the job.

“I don’t understand what the problem is,” I said in my most annoyingly sweet voice, my lips jutting into a ridiculous pout. His eyes zeroed in on them for a split second, enraged. “I did exactly what Rosie used to, just like you wanted. Breakfast was prepared and served on time, and it included a mix of store-bought produce and fresh ingredients from the garden.”

This all was true.

I hadused fresh ingredients from the garden.

Sure, it was technically an impeccably keptflowergarden, and I’d taken shears to every leaf, bud, and bush in my path until the whole thing was mulch, but how was I supposed to know you weren’t supposed to do that?

How was someone like me supposed to tell the difference between a vegetable and a flower? Or be privy to the fact that the daffodil petals I’d stuffed in his salad would cause nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea if ingested?

After all, I never did consume anything that didn’t have the word “Housewives” in the title.

Dominic finally managed to pry his teeth open. “What. thefuck. is wrong with you? You think this is fucking funny?”

I dropped the act.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re surprised.” My smile was taunting, uncaring of the fact that he was two hundred pounds of solid muscle, a full head taller than me, and huffing like a raging bull.

I wasn’t scared of him, I’d never been scared of him, and I’d never be scared of him. I didn’t care how much wealth, power, and muscle mass he accumulated.

“What did you think was going to happen when you brought me here, Dom? Howdidyou think this would all pan out?”

His knuckles were white.

His breathing slowed until it was barely there. Until every visible muscle in his body was knotted, and he was shaking like his true demon form was about to burst out of his skin. In all the years I’d known him, I’d never seen him quitethisangry.

Not even on the day he’d cornered me by my locker.

A sliver of doubt crept into my head. I’d been so pissed this morning that I hadn’t stopped to ask why he even had a garden in his backyard, given how he’d never really had an interest in?—

A drawn-out echoing of bells interrupted my train of thought, and I blinked. It took a second for my brain to catch up, remembering that the furniture Dominic had ordered was supposed to arrive this morning. “I’ll get it.”

I’d slipped out of the room before his joints could loosen enough to stop me, the sense of unease in my chest growing thicker and stronger with every step.

What if I’d fucked up?

What if that hadn’t even been his garden? What if it was Rosie’s? But he’d been here less than a week and wasn’t planning on staying… so how did that fit into the equation?

And I was so deep in my head that I didn’t even think to check the video intercom before throwing the front door open. I just assumed it was the delivery truck.

It wasn’t the delivery truck.

It was a cluster of five middle-aged men standing on the doorstep.