Despite the stiletto pumps on my feet and the fitted dress that did nothing to protect me from the cold weather, I held my head high as the memory of the way Scar had last humiliated me in that gym washed over me.
Fuck that and fuck him.
“Miss Ryan?” one of the men said as he stepped up to intercept me. I strode past him, pressing a hand to his chest and shoving firmly until he had little choice but to get out of my way. Scar hadn’t bothered to turn his attention away from the two men who sparred in the ring, his eyes tracking over them as I stepped up beside him and leveled a glare at him that made grown men cower.
“I see Grant ran and told you what I did, like the little bitch he is,” he said, never taking his eyes off the arena.
“Look at me right now,” I demanded, waiting for the moment when he finally turned those dark eyes to meet my glare. His face remained blank, expressionless. As if I was a nuisance for intruding on his day when he’d hurt someone I cared about.
For what?
“You cannot keep other men from having me if you don’t even want me,” I warned.
“Fucking watch me, Butterfly,” he growled, the menace in his eyes deepening as he tilted his chin down to stare at me more intently. “But let’s get one thing straight, I am not staying away for my sake. I am staying away for yours.”
“Beating up my best friend in a parking garage is for my sake?” I asked, my voice rising with my disbelief. There was something wrong with this man, something in him that made absolutely no sense.
“You deserve so much more than me. So much more than him. When the day comes that you meet someone who deserves you, then I’ll let you go and walk you down the aisle to your white picket fucking fence and your life full of babies, but not a day before, cuore mio.”
“Grant deserves me,” I argued. He’d always been there, always watched out for me. If anything, it was me who didn’t deserve him. Me who could never give him the love he deserved.
“Grant is not ever going to happen for you, so let go of that notion now. You won’t like the consequences if you don’t,” he warned, reaching between us. His fingers trailed over the same spot on my jaw that Grant had touched in the privacy of my apartment, making my blood turn to ice.
But that was impossible.
“You do not get to dictate who I fuck,” I snarled, jolting back from his touch. He didn’t deserve to touch me. Not after everything he’d done.
“I do now,” he said, not bothering to elaborate as he crossed his arms over his chest. Something in his expression gleamed, a hint of what felt like enjoyment crossing over his face as he stared down at me.
“Scar, maybe—” Ivory interjected.
“Not your circus,” Scar snapped at her, the vehemence in his tone something I’d never heard him use with the other woman.
“Just stay the fuck away from me and Grant,” I said, shaking my head in disgust and turning on my heel. Ivory stepped out of my way, looking at Scar as if he’d lost his damn marbles.
Clearly, he hadn’t had many there to begin with, if he thought any of this was normal.
“Little Butterfly?” Scar asked, something in his tone stopping me in my tracks. I twisted to look over my shoulder at him, and his dark eyes glittered as they met mine. “You touch him again, and he won’t be breathing by the time I’m done with him. Do you understand me?”
“There’s something wrong with you,” I whispered, going still in shock. He couldn’t be fucking serious.
“You’re so beautiful exactly as you are,” he said, stepping closer until his finger touched the seam of my lips gently. “Don’t make me clip your wings.”
He dropped his hand away from my mouth, striding past me and exiting the gym without another word. I turned to look at Ivory, finding the same shock on her face as mine.
21
SCAR
Six months later
I'd lived through hell. I’d thought I'd seen the worst life offered in my years on the streets, but watching Irina twine her hips against another man's was a new brand of torture. The sparkling violet fabric of her mini-dress shimmered in the neon lights as her eyes landed on mine.
Watching me. Testing me.
Everything she did was a show, designed to push, since the day I’d made it clear I would kill anyone who didn’t deserve her. Irina still didn't understand that I'd never be able to give her what she wanted.
Hands trailed over her hips, clutching her tightly in a grasp that hinted at all the desperation she brought out in men. A tantalizing taste of the kinds of pleasures we didn't deserve. Of her flawless, light brown skin she’d inherited from her Greek mother. Of the vibrant, light green eyes that contrasted with her dark hair and warm complexion in an almost feline fashion.
My jaw clenched as my finger itched for my gun. He may not deserve her.
But neither did I.
She spun to face her dance partner, a lean and well-dressed businessman who wanted to stain her with his filth. His hands slid around her hips, fingers precariously close to her ass as Irina did a body roll and touched her hips to his, tossing her hair back and glancing over my way. I watched a teasing smirk cross her face as she shook it out and turned her attention back to him.
She stumbled on her heels, far too drunk to be dancing like she didn't give a shit about the consequences. The guy steadied her against his body as her face transformed with a giggle I couldn't hear.
I knew the sound by heart. Had it branded on my very being. It should have been for me.
His hands slipped down farther, caressing her ass through the fabric of her dress. I watched his eyes light with something greedy when she didn't adjust them and saw the exact moment he realized she was drunk enough to make a mistake and go home with him for the night. He leaned down to say something in her ear, and her body stilled for just a moment.
Irina glanced over my way briefly, shaking it off a few seconds later. She nodded her head hesitantly, her teeth sinking into her plump bottom lip she'd painted the color of blood. He stepped back from her, holding out a hand for her to take so he could take her home.
Make love to her.
Fuck her.
All the things I'd never be able to do again.
She paused, staring at that outstretched hand and understanding as well as I did that it would be new territory. Irina danced. She teased.
She never went home with any of them once she realized I wouldn't intercede. But something about this night was different. Something about it made her sag with the weight of our reality.
Her eyes were wet when she looked my way one last time, the smile she gave me brittle as she placed her hand in his. Everything inside me tightened, agony and rage filling the void in my chest a heart was meant to occupy.
She took that first step, teetering on her heels as they shook, and her free hand trembled as she lifted it to wipe away the lone tear that slid over her rosy cheek. I wasn't aware I'd taken a step until she paused, hope filling her face as she stared at my shoe. My gaze slid down to it as my jaw clenched, incapable of controlling my body as her pain drew me closer.
She stared up at me with wide eyes, shock parting her red lips, as she took one step after another until she was right in front of me. Closer than she'd been for over six months.