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He was stunning now.
Still tall, dark-haired, golden-brown-eyed, but his face had etched a bit sharper with age. And he’d clearly been doing a lot of working out since he’d gone away.
Czar’s gaze held mine for a moment before he lowered himself down onto a chair.
“Do you really think you have a right to look horrified right now, you bastard?” I snapped, voice low, but cutting.
“Baby, what the fuck happened?”
“I was attacked in my apartment,” I said, jaw tight until it made my head scream louder, making me force it to relax.
“Who? Who did this?”
“Oh, cut the shit, Czar,” I snapped, wincing when I said it a little too loudly, making the woman at the next table jump and the CO glance over.
I held up a hand to him and mouthed an apology before looking back at Czar.
“Who are you involved with?” Czar asked. “Was it the fucking Irish guys?”
“The Murphy brothers would never put a hand on me,” I said, brows drawing together because, well, this was not going how I’d been playing it out in my head on the way in.
“Who then?” he snapped.
Czar was not a guy with an explosive temper. He had a cold, cutting type of anger. A stare and a tone that could make a lifelong criminal squirm.
“You, you fucking asshole. You.”
“Me?” he asked, falling back into the chair as if my words were a strike, and the force pushed him backward.
He stared at me for a long time, those familiar golden eyes looking at me like he’d never seen me before.
Then he leaned forward, arms going on the table, head dipping.
“You think I’m capable of hurting you like that?” he asked, tone rough.
Hurt, I realized.
He was hurt at the idea of me thinking that.
“Nyx, baby,” he said, leaning forward even more. “I have never put my hands on you like that. I would never put my hands on you like that. I fucking love you.”
“You want to control me,” I shot back.
“What? When have I ever done that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Ever since you got locked up. The notes. The flowers. The threats.”
“I’ll cop to the flowers. The notes. I still love you. I wanted to let you know that since you wouldn’t come see me.”
“You should have taken that as a hint.”
He ignored that.
He’d always been good at side-stepping my anger, avoiding a fight.
“What threats?” he asked instead, managing to surprise me.
“What threats? Are you fucking serious? How about every guy I ever went on a date with ending up horribly attacked?”
