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‘I’m sorry, I’m SORRY!’ he raged. He started to pace in front of me.
I watched, not daring to leave the safety of the bathroom doorway. If he came at me, if he tried to grab me, at least I had a chance at shutting him out and going back to my safe room.
But he didn’t grab me, or try to kiss me, and that surprised me. If anything, the pacing seemed to calm him.
At least, I thought he was calming down, until he spoke.
‘You’ve been avoiding me for months,’ he said coldly, levelling his black gaze at me.
‘What?’ I tried not to squirm under the spotlight of his words.
He just raised his eyebrows. ‘I know you, Mariana Rodriguez. Mariana Ross. You are a woman who demands to be fucked. You used to be addicted to my cock. So if you haven’t been fucking me, who have you been fucking?’
My stomach dropped. ‘What?’
‘Who. Huh? Guillermo? I’ll slit his dirty throat and screw you beside him, in a puddle of his blood.’
I grimaced at the visual. I didn’t doubt him for a second. ‘No, I haven’t been fucking Guillermo,’ I replied. As if. ‘I’d rather sew my vagina shut than fuck him.’
‘Who, then? Someone from the club?’
Getting warmer. He was pacing and pacing and this was so very bad. He’d never been suspicious before. Ever.
He stopped dead in his tracks, lifting his eyes from the shitty red and yellow checkered carpet. ‘Did my father touch you?’
I thought of all the times Emilio had touched me – pinched nipples, pulled hair, slapped cheeks. He’d been rough. Threatening. But in all these years, Emilio Ross had never once tried to have sex with me.
‘No,’ I snapped. ‘There’s nobody. You’re being paranoid, Dornan.’
He chuckled, the gesture devoid of any joy. He was in pain, I realised. He was crying out for me to love him in the way I showed him love – with pain, and sex, and blood.
‘I know what you want,’ I whispered through gritted teeth. ‘And you’re not going to get it from me. You don’t deserve it.’
‘WHO ARE YOU FUCKING?’ he roared, raising his hand as if he were about to hit me.
‘Nobody,’ I replied calmly, refusing to cower under his physical threat. I would show no weakness, even though inside my alarm bells were screaming, Get out! Get out!
There was nowhere to go. There was never anywhere to go.
I stood my ground against my dark lover, glaring at him as emotion rose thick in my throat. And then, in an act of entirely false bravado, I slipped underneath his arm, still braced against the doorframe, and headed for the minibar.
The hotel we were staying in wasn’t amazing, but the minibar was. They’d laid out a selection of spirits that made my mouth water, and I ran my fingers along the lids, selecting a small bottle of vodka. Opening it, I poured half the bottle over my tattooed finger, squeezing my eyes shut as they teared up. I gasped, blinking away the hot moisture that had gathered at the corners of my eyelashes, as I slammed a mouthful of vodka and felt it burn all the way down inside of me. All the while, I felt Dornan’s eyes drilling into me, his questions, his suspicion.
He came to stand beside me at the minibar, running a hand through my long hair. I still had the damned flower wreath in it, and as soon as I’d finished the vodka, I was going to rip it out and throw it into the trash. I didn’t want to look pretty. I wanted to be left alone to scream into my pillow and sob until the sun came up again.
The fingers in my hair turned into a fist, the gentle caress turning into a tight tug as he wound strands around his fingers and pulled, hard. I didn’t resist, letting my head go with the swift motion. I didn’t fancy losing any hair today.
‘You’re telling me you’ve been fucking yourself? Getting yourself off?’ he asked, his breath hot on my cheek.
I nodded as much as I could with the way he was holding my head back. What else could I say without placing John under suspicion?
‘I don’t fucking believe you,’ he growled.
I turned my gaze to him, an open challenge in my eyes. ‘I’ll show you.’
He appeared to think about it for a moment, his eyes lighting up with what looked like lust. He let go of my hair, dropped his hand to his side. ‘You’d better,’ he replied, reaching for the vodka bottle in my hand and pointing to the couch. ‘Now.’
We stared off for a moment. Oh, this is actually going to happen, I realised. Well. Whatever. I’d give him a show he wouldn’t soon forget. I’d make his cock ache until it was painful instead of pleasant.
