Page 39 of His Trick

I thought of my father then. That sliver of calm was flooded with newfound anger and hate. I thought of how he’d cornered me. That fucking smirk he used to mold me into a proper shape.

He had been a man who believed in speeches and threats. And now my sister’s boyfriend was here in my space, believing I’d break for him under pressure and stares. Both men only wanted fucking control of me. Both expected my surrender.

Good. I will let him want it. I’ll wait until he is desperate for it. Only to give him the illusion again that he has me under his thumb. Waiting for the perfect moment to break him.

“I heard your…dad. Xanthy said he’s always been…hard on you. Not that you don’t fucking deserve it, you asshole, but…” Shiloh’s voice was softer, coming from somewhere around my back and shoulder. It was a statement disguised as an accusation. “It wasn’t cool of him to air your family drama so damn loudly.”

I kept washing.

“Reginald Harding has never been known to be quiet,” I said finally, the words deliberately bland and final. My mouth tasted like metal and the fruity soap. I let the sentence hang between us, not knowing myself what I wanted from it. “So you escaped the noise by snooping down here?”

That made Shiloh’s jaw work. He answered with a sound that might have been a laugh if it hadn’t been edged with something equal to pain. “You think you’re the only one who needs an escape?”

I lathered my hair with shampoo, leaning forward to let the suds run down with the cascade of water. “You can’t escape who you are, Sunshine.”

Silence gathered around us for a heartbeat. The water was louder now that my music had kicked off. The soft sound should have drowned the small noises from him, but it didn’t. Shiloh’s breathing was a different tempo, faster and strained. He was angry, clearly, but not with my father. He was angry because I’d denied him my space. Upset because I’d put my back to him and kept my face to the wall.

“I don’t even know you,” he said. Under the words, there was a tremor that made the syllables fragile. “But I can see you’re the only one who thinks you have everyone fooled, Care Bear.”

I thought about telling Shiloh exactly how fooled and moldable everyone was, minus my father.

Outside the polite rooms and his influence, I was adored and beloved. I thought about telling him that when people told me who to be, I liked to remind them I was someone they couldn’t name, how I let fear and attraction break them for me.

I opened my mouth to recite all the things I did to control him, to create a fixation that had him desperate for my attention even when hatred rolled off like heat.

Instead, I left him in the uncomfortable silence. After rinsing the soap away, I let the water carry down the contours of my back, ripping over my tattoos and the scars I didn’t bother to name for him. My silence was a choice sharper than any retort I could make.

“Fucking hell.”

The steam muffled it. But it sounded no less angry as it fell from his plump lips. It was pure yet furious.

“You make me want to pull away from the light I’ve held on to for so long,” he admitted, almost a whisper. “You make me want to break you.”

I’d heard of that kind of longing before, thin, hungry, and fucking dangerous lines. It made me feel pleased, yet somehow nervous in the same breath. It was exactly the kind of confessionI could weaponize, and that knowledge made me cold with power.

“Maybe you will be the one who finally does someday.” I shrugged, still not looking at him.

He didn’t move.

The sound of the water filled the space between us, and that heat made everything feel intimate. I could tell he was measuring me, trying to unravel my brain when I couldn’t understand it myself.

The want was there, and the possibility that I would give anything away.

But one question bounced around my fucked-up brain, keeping pace with my heartbeat as I finally turned to look at him.

His body was shockingly beautiful in the light, and reflective droplets glittered on his skin. Those deep blue eyes were challenging, the water giving him some form of strength to face me so fully.

I licked my lips, my tongue gliding over my snake bite piercings.

He watched the movement. I watched the reaction of his cock getting heavier, thicker, and bouncing under my gaze. That same question was stronger, like a shout now instead of a whisper in my mind.

What will you do, Sunshine…if I actually let you break me?

The showers were a fucking mistake.

I should’ve left before he walked in, but my pride and stubbornness were like a chain, tying me there. Carrington didn’t so much as glance at me. He stripped down, turned on the water, and stepped into the spray like I was nothing more than a fucking tile on the decorative wall. Zero words. None of his incessant stalking, bullshit mind games, and no acknowledgment of my existence.

His silence was almost as bad as his obsession. More unsteady than the violence. It felt like he erased me.