Page 36 of The Billionaire's Bride

"Has she told you that?"

"You think I’d reveal that to you?" He looks me up and down.

"You’d say anything to get a rise out of me," I growl.

"You know, I am not lying." He raises a shoulder. "Besides, she understands and appreciates the sacrifice I made for her."

"If you mean leaving the priesthood, that was a long time coming, precipitated by your inability to keep your temper in check."

The smile vanishes from his face. Good.

"And we all know you joined the Church, purely as a means of escape." I scratch my jaw.

"Escape?"

I nod. "Fact is, you couldn’t deal with reality, you didn’t have the balls to face what had happened, so you turned your back on the world."

His features harden. "You should talk. You shipped out and joined the army. If there’s a deserter here, it’s you."

"Ah, see, that’s where we differ." I rock back on my heels. "At least, I was out fighting a battle. I was facing my fears while doing my best to protect innocent people, while you?" I shove my hand in the pocket of my slacks. "You were merely hiding from the inevitable."

He balls his fists at his sides, "Inevitable, huh? What’s that?"

"Revealing to the world that you are a coward, Edward." I bare my teeth. "You were a coward then, as you are now."

He takes a step forward and I hold up a hand, "Think carefully before you do anything else. We both know I am in far better shape than you. It won’t take me long to take you down."

"We’ll see, shall we?" He throws up his fists at the same time that there’s a hammering on the door.

We glare at each other.

"Were you expecting someone?"

I shake my head, glance around the space for a weapon, when a voice calls out, "Open the fucking door, wanker."

My shoulder muscles relax as Edward blows out a breath.

"Fucking Saint," he mutters.

"What the fuck does he want now?"

I pivot, head for the door, and fling it open. Saint stalks forward. He shoves my shoulder with his as he brushes past me and heads for Edward.

"Hello, asshole." Saint tilts his head.

Edward scowls back. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You could be happier to see us now, considering we are childhood buddies and such?" Sinner saunters in through the door, followed by Damian, Arpad and Weston. Damian flings himself on the couch. Arpad wanders over to the bar in the far corner.

Weston walks toward Edward, "How’s the wound coming along?"

"I’ll survive," Edward snaps.

"Make yourselves comfortable," I call out sarcastically.

"No formalities, bro." Saint raises a hand, "You know us, we treat each other’s places as our own."

"Don’t I just?" I slam the door with enough force that the painting above the fireplace crashes to the floor. Good thing it came with the place, which I purchased a few years ago but never bothered to furnish. Considering I only crash here on the rare occasion I am in town. Not that any of them notice my little burst of temper. Short of dying…