Magnolia from that vile family of reprobates, he would hate to hear that you’ve grown fond of any of them.” His gaze slips to my lips. “I would hate to hear it too.”
I feel a tickle of vomit at the back of my throat.
“You understand that, don’t you, Evie?” He squeezes my arms even tighter and pins me with his big body.
“What part of me running Magnolia into the ground are you missing?” I can barely get the words out under his crushing weight. “I hate them, all of them. They killed my brother.”
“Lucius killed your brother,” he corrects.
“I know what he did!” I try to shove him off me, but he’s far too big, too strong, and too hellbent on making those facts abundantly clear to me.
“Then we’re on the same page.” He gives me a fake smile and finally backs off.
My arms ache from his grip, but I refuse to rub them when he’s watching. I won’t show this bastard any weakness. Not now. Not ever.
“You really should’ve chosen the black.” He reaches up and touches my hair.
I try not to flinch but fail.
“Don’t be afraid of me, Evie.” He drops his palm to my cheek. “I don’t want to have to hurt you. But that depends on you, doesn’t it?”
Spoken like a true fucking sociopath.
“I’ll be there tomorrow night. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?” I practically spit the words at him. “I’m a busy woman.”
“I’ll pick you up at 6:30.”
“No.” I back away from his touch. “I don’t need an escort.”
His jaw tightens again, and I can feel his anger like an electrical charge. I don’t know who he is or why he’s the one they chose to come for me, but they underestimated me. I won’t be cowed by some crew cut psycho with anger management issues.
“Now, I’d like to continue my day. If you’d please see yourself out.” I turn my back on him, even though every instinct inside me screams not to do it. But that’s why I have to do it. It’s a power move.
He’s silent as I drop the robe and pull on my top, then reach for my skirt.
“Did you miss the part where I dismissed you?” I fasten the skirt and turn to find him glaring at me, his eyes glossy.
Holding my head high, I reach for my bag. For safety. For my loaded gun.
He smiles slowly in that same creepy way of his. “I like your spirit, Evie. I really do.” He steps to me again, his hand going to my throat. “But if you keep pushing me like this, I don’t think you’re going to like the outcome.”
“If you don’t take your hands off me, neither are you.” I press the barrel of my pistol against his ribs.
He glances down, then slowly returns his gaze to me.
“Now get your hands off,” I hiss.
He releases my throat and backs up a pace. “Be ready. I’ll be at your door at 6:30.” That crackling rage inside him is roaring, but he tamps it down when my pistol is aimed at his chest. Without another word, he turns and leaves the fitting room.
As soon as the door closes, I jump over to it and turn the lock. My legs give way, and I stumble back to the chaise.
I refuse to let myself cry, and I wipe two errant tears from my cheeks and straighten my clothes. With another deep breath, I inspect my arms. The skin is already starting to bruise lightly. Pale yellow imprints of meaty hands.
I pull on my cream jacket and try not to scream. I’m trapped, backed into a corner with no way out.
There’s nothing I can do to avoid tomorrow night, but I’ll be damned if I let them terrorize me like this. I won’t break. I won’t fucking break. Not for them. Not for anyone. All I have to do is convince the girl who lives in my heart—the same girl who lost everything she ever loved five years ago—that those words are true. That I’m strong enough to survive this. I have to be.
Jeanette never reappears, so I slip out of the boutique and into the muggy New Orleans morning. She’ll have the dress delivered on time; I have no doubt.
Once I’m in my car, I take deep breaths and try to fight the exhaustion I feel from the ebbing adrenaline rush. But I don’t take a break, don’t spend another second on it. Driving through the streets, I force it