Page 18 of Intrigue
“How dare you go that far?” I yell, my voice cutting through the din.
Sandro doesn’t look surprised. If anything, he looks amused, hands tucked into his pockets, watching me like he’s been expecting this. Expecting me.
“You’re relentless,” he muses, stepping closer. “I like that.”
“You bought the gallery lease.” I go right at it. “Why?”
His head tilts. “You already know why.”
I do. And it infuriates me.
I push at his chest, but he doesn’t budge. “Stay out of my life. You’re nothing but a leech, even with all the power you think you possess, sucking at anything that moves just to feel alive.”
“Selene—”
“Don’t say my name with that mouth of yours!” I don’t know why I’m yelling even after getting his attention above the seaof noise in the warehouse, but I know why I can’t seem to stop myself, my rage a live wire sparking uncontrollably.
Because Sandro enjoys this, revels in it even, his eyes glinting with sick delight. Perhaps that’s why he finds ways to rattle me despite having a lot of things he can better use his time for, like a hound baiting a fox for sport. The moment the scowl on his face dissolves into a smirk, I’m proven right, and my stomach twists with loathing and something darker, hotter.
What a monster.
A gorgeous, fucking monster.
He’s dressed in jeans, the first I’ve seen on him in ages, the denim hugging his thighs like a second skin. This, he pairs with a plaid shirt and work boots, rugged and primal, a man carved from shadows and sin. Even in the dim lights of the place, my body immediately recognizes him and sets the longing between both of us ablaze, an electric current that sears my nerves despite my fury.
I’m not here for that. I ball my hands into fists as I draw close to his face, close enough to smell the sweat and gunpowder on him. “How low can you go? Trying to frustrate Cassian for your selfish gains? That just makes you look insecure and wholly incompetent, a petty king scrabbling for scraps.”
“Be careful with your words, Selene. You’re walking on a very thin rope right now.”
His words send a chill down my spine, icy tendrils curling around my resolve. A part of me knows he’d never physically hurt me, but maybe I crossed a line just now, and doubt makes my pulse race.
Whatever. He crossed the line first. He’s going to have to deal with me. My vengeance has to start slowly to be able to do more damage, a creeping poison, but I hate how much he takes and takes to incite me, feeding off my chaos like it’s his lifeline.
“You really make it hard for me not to hate you, Sandro.”
“You certainly won’t be the first to come to that conclusion,” he replies, unfazed, his tone dripping with mockery.
“You think you’re so mighty right now, don’t you? I’m gonna pull you down even if I have to claw my way through. You get that?” I say, my voice trembling with something unnameable.
He pins me with a hard look, poised and ready, his lips drawn in a tight line, eyes burning into mine. “That’s the difference between us, then. I’m always prepared to fight dirty,” he says, each word a promise of ruin.
“Cheat!” I drawl, ready to slap him as hard as I can, my fist cocked and itching to connect.
He moves fast, grabbing my wrist, pushing me until my back hits a crate. Hard. A gasp rips from my throat, but I don’t fight him. Not yet. His breath is warm against my cheek, his grip unforgiving.
“I won’t let you do that twice, Selene,” he murmurs. “Once is all you’ll ever get.”
I hate him. I hate how close he is, how his scent—leather, smoke, something enchanting—invades my lungs. I hate the way my pulse betrays me, hammering against my ribs, my body reacting before my mind can shut it down.
Then he hoists me up by my forearm, flinging me over his shoulders as though I weigh nothing, his strength a brutal reminder of his control. Adrenaline pumps in my veins as he holds me to him and strolls away from the chaos of unloading guns and high-pitched commands, his grip iron-tight.
“Put me down right now, Sandro!” I demand, thrashing against him.
“In time,” he decides, harshly, his voice a growl that vibrates through me. “Now, be patient.”
I drive my fist into his lower back, surprised by his firm hold on me even as he walks away, his muscles flexing under my blows. I writhe in his arms, pushing, until he smacks my butt.Hard. The sting blooms hot and sharp, a jolt that makes me gasp and clench involuntarily.
“Ow!” I yelp, heat flooding my cheeks and lower.