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Villains never get the princess.
Luna and I drive back to the house in the kind of deadly silence you’d find in a hundred-year-old crypt.
As Paige was going to visit her son and daughter-in-law for the weekend, I got Robert to take her while I drove Luna and myself home.
The tension between us is so thick it could come to life and continue that fight.
It only grows worse the closer we get to the house.
Luna has been staring out the window for the entire journey, furious as hell and not looking at me.
I can just imagine what’s going through her mind as she worries about her beloved Ryan. That enrages me even more.
We reach home forty minutes later and I hardly get the chance to park the car before Luna flings the door open and jumps out.
I sit there for a few seconds, watching her and wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do now. There are so many things on my mind. And of course, I haven’t calmed down yet.
Through all the shit the one thing I want to know is; did she really sleep with Ryan?
He made it sound like she did. Ryan knew she saved herself for him and he specifically said he took what was his. But the words never came from her.
Knowing whether or not she slept with Ryan is probably pointless but I want to hear her say it.
I want to hear her tell me herself that she finally succeeded in giving that asshole her virginity.
After all, that was what she planned to do when we first met, then I happened.
The bitter thought pushes me to get out of the car and march into the house.
I make my way up the stairs and find her in the bedroom.
She’s just taken down her hair and is sitting on the bed undoing the straps on her heels.
Luna gives me a hard stare when I walk in before she looks away, her lips pursed and her hands shaking. A sign she’s mad at me.
I’m the one who should be mad, so let’s get to the point.
“Did you sleep with him?” My voice is cold, holding the same cool, calm tone a psycho would use before he unleashes his rage.
Luna snaps her gaze up to me and I hate that she doesn’t answer the question. She just stares back at me with her gorgeous eyes looking at me as if I’m a monster.
The silence between us grows heavier, feeling like a brewing storm, stretching out for miles and miles. I don’t know what to think.
It’s fucked up how silence can mean so many things—yes, no, maybe, believe what you want to believe.
Which is it with her?
“Answer me.” I narrow my eyes.
She stands, keeping her eyes riveted to me. “I’m not going to talk to you if you’re going to be an asshole to me.”
“I said answer me!” I shout and she shudders from the harsh pitch of my voice, instantly looking afraid of me. Good. If she wants the Shark I’ll give it to her. I march right up to her and stare her down. “Did you fuck him?”
The one thing I’ve always known from my first meeting with this girl is that she has a pair of balls. On the night we met, instead of running off screaming when she found me—the stranger—in her father’s guest house, she asked me who the hell I was.
She’s come back with a counterattack to everything I’ve asked of her since I stepped into her sphere of existence. So I feel like I should have preempted her raising her hand and bitch-slapping me across my cheek.
The blow is so hard the copper taste of blood fills my mouth in an instant and the sting on my skin feels like being attacked by a thousand bees.
