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I turn to face him.
“I may not have a name. Maybe I didn’t know where Positano is or what some random Latin words mean … or whatever.” I narrow my eyes at him and stab the air with my finger. “But, I’ll tell you what. My mother worked her way up to manager at a small plant in Tennessee at a time when it was really hard for women to do that. While she lived with a husband who treated her like a punching bag and a son she was afraid of. And she put up with that shit for me. She worked a second job to help pay tuition to put me,” I say, pointing at my chest, “through college. And law school. Because she looked at me and saw what you and the rest of your stuck-up friends fail to see. All of my potential.”
I wave my hands in the air around my head, my fingers pointing down to my body. His expression is one of pure shock.
“I was raised to treat everyone with respect,” I continue. “I was raised to be proud of my integrity, my loyalty and my kindness. My name means something because I’ve made it mean something.”
“Confidence,” he growls.
“You don’t have the right to say my name,” I snap and his eyes widen. “I’m not going to let you or anyone else look down on me because I don’t have money and my last name isn’t on a stadium or museums or a hospital somewhere.”
“Fucking hell, Confidence,” he grinds out.
I ignore him.
“You’ve had everything handed to you. And yet, here we are.” I fling my arms wide in a sweeping flourish that covers the whole room. “In the same place. At the very same time. Who’s slumming?” I sneer. “And who’s leveled up?” I give him a hard, challenging look. “Who should be looking down on who?”
“I don’t look down on—”
“The one who’s here because she worked, scraped, and beat back the crabs trying to pull her back into the barrel?” I take a step closer to him. “Or the person who’s here because he was lucky enough to be pushed out of a gold lined pussy?” I give him a disdainful head-to-toe assessment.
His eyes narrow, his jaw flexes and he rears back. “What did you just say to me?” he hisses.
“Did you let the pretty dresses, law degree and good table manners fool you?” I ask. “I grew up with a trucker hat turned to the back, jeans tucked into my muddy hiking boots, a hunting rifle slung across my back and a bowie knife tucked into my waist. I’ve been thrown to the wolves and I have killed every. Single. One. Of them.” I am aflame with indignation.
“You need to calm down,” he says and has the nerve to reach for me.
“No,” I huff and grit my teeth. “We’re done. You are never going to insult me again. You don’t deserve me.”
I shake my head in frustration and then stand up. He moves fast and grabs me by the forearms. He presses his forehead to mine, our noses touch, our breath mingles between us and his eyes burn into mine with possessiveness and determination.
“You’re right. I don’t.” He pins me in place with his eyes “I know it. You know it. And yet, here we are. In the same place at the same fucking time,” he says, throwing my words back at me. “You take everything I give you. Even when it hurts because you know I’m going to make you come so hard you can’t breathe. You sleep next to me with your fingers linked with mine because you love me. We are not even close to done,” he grits out and I try to pull myself loose.
Right now, I’m caught between wanting to sob in his arms and wanting to kick him in the balls.
“Let go of me,” I growl.
“Never. You will not walk away from me because of some bullshit like this.”
“It’s not bullshit. I have spent the entire weekend with your crazy ass family and their friends,” I shout back at him and shake myself loose. This time, he lets me go. “Are these really the people you want to surround yourself with? You talked about your family doing good. What good does it do to get dressed up for a six-course meal just because it’s Friday? I mean, it’s like fucking Versailles. Your city is drowning and you’re dressed up because it’s Friday.”
I hurl my words like
bullets and when his face turns red with anger, I know I hit my target. He grabs my wrists and pulls me back.
“You overheard me and Dare last night, but you still let me fuck you. Were planning to leave me when we woke up?” he asks angrily.
I flush because the way he says it makes it sound … treacherous. But I shake that off because it’s not remotely true.
“I didn’t know what I was going to do, Hayes. I was confused!” I shout at him.
“Did you know you were going to leave this morning?” he asks me coldly.
“Yes,” I answer. He flinches.
My family is no prize and has its fair share of shit. But I don’t want to live like this. I didn’t escape the frying pan just to jump into the fire.
“I mean, maybe if that craziness with Eliza had felt like a fluke, or the dinner guests hadn’t made me feel like something a dog dragged in from outside. Or knowing that your brother thinks I’m already measuring for drapes and counting your money. But I don’t want to live in chaos with people who hate each other—and who hate me. I mean, she slapped the housekeeper!” My arms fling out in front of me. His hands take the opportunity and grab hold of me. I don’t fight him. I
