Page 41 of Twisted Tyrant


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Luka shakes his head and I move closer to him. I raise my hand and it absently hovers in the air above the small scar over his right eyebrow. He just stares back. I drop my hand to my side, my fingers itching to touch. But I don’t dare. Not again.

Chipping away at what really lies so deep inside of this man requires a much more robust arsenal of tools than I have right now.

“I knew I had to let it go. But then Dima and my father came up with the idea to force you into marriage as a way to punish your dad.”

“And I’d marry Dima because he’s your dad’s successor,” I murmur.

“Yes.” Luka’s voice tightens. “But it was me who came for you because I didn’t trust anyone else. I needed to be the one to get you out of there because...” He stops short after that, and I can swear there’s more he wants to say.

He bites it back, though.

So I press harder.

“Why are you so angry, Luka?”

He turns his back on me. “Never tell anyone outside the family what you’re thinking. You ever see The Godfather? That’s like rule number one.” He lets out a deep sigh, pounding his fist on the front of the stainless steel refrigerator. “I shouldn’t have told you any of that. This is mine to deal with. But pretty soon, none of it will matter.”

“Because you’re leaving,” I say.

He twists around, his eyebrows furrowed. “How did you know?”

“I overheard you on the phone before. Where are you going?”

“As far away as I can get.”

My throat suddenly constricts with a gaggle of tears at the thought of him leaving.

Holy cow, I am really losing my mind here.

Luka just admitted that he wanted to hurt me...or worse...and that I am a pawn in his scheme to exact revenge on my father for something he still won’t even discuss.

He has made it clear that he despises me for what I represent.

He hates me.

Or does he?

A swell of desire flares in my chest, and the urge to pull him close, to feel his lips on mine and everywhere else on my body, consumes every cell of my being.

My God, I want him. So badly.

His lust-filled gaze roots me to the spot on the kitchen floor and tells me it’s not at all one-sided.

A shiver slips down my spine.

I think he wants me, too. And he knows he shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t want him, either, especially after the hell he’s put me through and the hell he has yet to unleash on me.

But this connection between us is beyond physical. I can’t deny the presence of a slow-burning ember deep in the recesses of my heart that flickers faster when he looks at me. Like a hummingbird, it flits and floats in my chest, making me question my sanity, which is extremely questionable at this point.

Still, I need answers.

“Why do you need to leave Miami?”

I ask the question even though I know he won’t give me an answer. I shouldn’t care what his reasons are, what he did to alienate himself from his family. The tension in his voice when he spoke to his father, the harsh words he exchanged — something happened, and it must have been bad. My heart aches for him, maybe unjustifiably under the circumstances.

It doesn’t seem like he wants to leave. It seems like he has to take that path or else.

“I need to leave because I thought it was the only way I’d ever find some sort of peace.”

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