Terror stirred in my belly.
“Vinn, you need to leav—”
He grabbed my arm, yanked me into the apartment, and locked the door. Vinn cradled me, and a shudder heated my body. Darkness carved a vulgar smile between his cheeks.
My alarms blazed red as Vinn’s six-foot-something frame pushed me deeper into my home. I bumped into a wall and rolled into the kitchen. The expression in his eyes made me wish I were closer to the door. Vinn gripped the counter, caging me in his arms.
“You’ve given me an interesting night.”
“H-how so?”
“I came here to punish you. Again. Now I’m rethinking that. Spanking you didn’t work because you liked it,” he whispered, awed. “You enjoy my hands on you. Don’t you?”
I jerked my head in the negative. ”There’s nothing pleasant about being tied up and beaten.”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“You hit me. It hurt.”
“Good.” Vinn grabbed my chin, staring me down. “Some lessons hurt worse than others. Especially when they’re given by someone you like.”
“I don’t like you. I find you revolting.”
“Really?” He passed a thumb over my bottom lip, showering my skin with sparks. “Is that what you tell your friend when you talk about me?”
The only thing more infuriating about being outed by Queenie was the fact I’d been completely off his radar. He’d needed someone to tell him about my feelings.
Pathetic.
And now he was throwing them in my face, humiliating me like a monster.
Heat lashed my mouth. “Get out of my house.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I mean it. You’re not welcome here.”
Vinn wasn’t in the listening mood. His touch fluttered across my waist, sending off a chain of electrical impulses that begged me to march us to bed.
“I haven’t gone to Michael,” I said, shoving his chest. “That doesn’t mean I never will.”
Vinn’s smile and raised eyebrows suggested he didn’t believe me, but
he allowed me to retreat. I left the kitchen. He followed like a giant shadow, barging into my bedroom like he belonged there.
It wasn’t much. A queen bed and desk covered with trinkets from my youth. Blasts from the past decorated the walls in the form of posters, things I’d never outgrow, the most important one standing in front of me.
Amusement flickered over his face as I stumbled into my desk. My ass hit the corner, and I hissed in pain.
His self-satisfied smirk seemed to mock me. ”Did you bruise?”
“Yes,” I murmured, hating him. “I took photos.”
“I’d love to see them.”
I ignored the thrill shooting down my belly. “I plan to send them to Michael after I tell him what you did.”
“Just what every brother wants—pictures of his sister’s ass.”
“Maybe I’ll put them on Tinder.”
“Do that, and I’ll bend you over. You’ll get another reason to hate me.”
I sat on my bed, arms crossed. “Why are you here?”
An unfathomable look smoothed his face. “I want you.”
I forced myself to settle down. I’d worked hard to cut Vinn from my life, and I couldn’t afford to be distracted by a fantasy. I wouldn’t fall under his spell.
“Well, I don’t want you, so it’s time for you t—”
“Li, I can’t go back to treating you like Michael’s little sister.”
His flat eyes prolonged the moment, my skin prickling as I gazed into their infinite depths.
“Put it behind you, and I’ll do the same.”
“That’s not an option.”
“Why not?” I clenched my jaw to kill the waver in my voice. “Why the fuck did you spank me?”
“Why did you grab my cock?”
I met his accusing eyes. “To mess with you.”
Vinn’s lips parted. He ripped open the first button of his shirt and glared as though I’d made him too hot. His possessive gaze bored into me.
“Well, it worked.”
Blood pounded in my temples. “Vinn, I’m not one of your goddamned floozies.”
He blinked. “My what?”
“The girls you see for a week and discard.”
Vinn smirked, reminding me that while he might’ve been a sweet boy, he hadn’t grown into a tender-hearted man. “You’re way above them, Li.”
“I thought I wasn’t special,” I sparred.
“I let you get away with a lot.”
“Well, you’re nothing to me.”
“Yeah, I’m not worth a damn.” Vinn’s tone sparkled with sarcasm. “Otherwise your friend would know my name.”
Screw you, Queenie. “She didn’t mean you.”
“Vinny is what you’ve called me since you were four.”
“Now it’s a nickname for someone else.”
That sucked the joy from his face.
The life drained out of him. He gave me a black look layered with bitterness.
I’d shot an arrow through his maddening arrogance, but it felt less like a victory when his features clouded over, transforming him back into the block of ice.
“Queenie mistook you for another man. That’s all.” My hand anchored on my hip as Vinn cleared his throat. “You share the same name, but that’s about it.”
His gaze bolted me to the floor as he lapsed into a stony silence. “Why haven’t I met him?”
“Because he left me a while ago.”
Not quite a lie. The old Vinn died. He’d abandoned me for war, and he’d never returned. His body had survived.
Everything I’d loved about him hadn’t.
“This Vincent,” he drawled. “Is he Italian?”
“I won’t talk about him to you.”
A hardness replaced the twinkle in his eyes. Apparently eager to change the subject, Vinn headed toward the desk. He picked up a photo of us as children. A shirtless, teenage Michael stood in board shorts beside Vinn, who’d slung his arm over eight-year-old me. I’d never grinned so hard, but I’d also never been plastered to his bare chest.
I fidgeted with my dress. “Do you remember those summers at Salisbury Beach?”
“A little.”
Disappointing. “I think about them often. You, me, Mom, and my brothers. All of us hanging out at the beach. The heat baking my feet. The waves.”
“Only you would reminisce about that place.”
“I like remembering a time when I was happy, and my family was whole.”
Vinn’s gaze locked on Daniel’s portrait. “It never gets easier. You learn to deal with the pain.”
The pain of losing Daniel—or killing him?
A crushing sadness squeezed my lungs. The seashell necklace burned my throat, like it contained a piece of Vinn’s black soul. Maybe wearing it every day, having the constant reminder, was less of a token of hope and more a torture device.
“I want you to leave. Now.”
My voice throbbed with agony.
Thankfully, Vinn must’ve decided he’d tortured me enough. He stepped past me, his fingertips brushing my waist, as though to remind me what he’d done.