“I Googled the Beauforts. Read all about them,” I add, swallowing down the sudden burst of nerves that are lumping together and threatening to clog my throat.
I wanted to confront him. In my head, it sounded plausible. But now that I’m saying it out loud, I sound like a wild conspiracy theorist. There’s no way it’s true. He bears a resemblance, that’s all. Plenty of people look like other people. Professional lookalikes have entire careers built on it.
He inclines his head over his shoulder, giving me a look that could freeze hell. “You want a fucking award for sticking your nose into other people’s business or something?”
His words are sharp and aimed to cut me off. But he should know by now that where he’s concerned, the bigger asshole he is toward me, the harder I push back.
“Sullivan had a brother. One who died in an accident three years ago. Not that far from here.”
Every muscle in his body coils tight, and his hands curl into fists by his sides. I stand, unable to breathe as I wait for a reaction.
Finally he breaks the silence, barely meeting my eyes.
“Don’t ever fucking talk to me again. You’re a crazy bitch. Find some other guy to fuck.”
He storms off, and I sag forward, the air punched from my lungs.
Then his words sink in.
Crazy?
He has the audacity to call me crazy?
Callum’s words swirl in my head.“You’re acting crazy, Jude. You’re wrong.”
An anger like no other, one that has claws and teeth, like a rabid dog straining at its chain to be unleashed, flies up from my gut.
I’m not crazy. I wasn’t then. And I’m not now. As for the bitch part… he’s about to find out.
“Slade Beaufort!” I scream after him.
He slams to a halt, whirling back to face me. The look in his eyes would be enough to eviscerate most people on the spot. But I’m past giving a shit when it comes to people lying to me.
“That’s your real name, isn’t it? Slade fucking Beaufort?”
He advances on me, closing the distance like a bull charging at a red rag. I don’t just stand my ground, I step toward him, inviting his wrath with a defiant tip of my chin.
“Slade, Slade, Slade,” I taunt.
He slams into me, curling his hand around my throat and pushing me back against something hard. The air’s knocked from my lungs as he brings himself nose to nose with me.
“Don’t ever fucking call me that.”
It takes me awhile to get the words past his strong grip, but I deliver each one as I keep my eyes pinned on his, refusing to let him intimidate me.
“Why? Because I’m right?”
His pupils blow wide, and he sucks a sharp breath in through his nose. I stare into his eyes, wishing they were his real colorright now. I bet the ice blue would make his anger even more unnerving. I want to see it, no holds barred. I want to see every emotion spill from the man who tries so hard to keep them hidden. He knows my reasons for being here, and why I’ve been allowing what’s happened between us to continue.
Now it’s my turn to understand him.
“I’m right,” I coax. “Aren’t I?”
His gaze burns into me as his thumb skates a gentle line up and down the edge of my windpipe with a fiery possession that I feel all the way to my toes.
I lick my lips, waiting to see what he does.
That’s when I feel it pressing into my stomach.
