“Any of you,” Belle declared then grabbed her purse, hitched it on her shoulder and started to march to the door but James brought her up short with a hand at her wrist.
She stopped and looked up at him.
“Poppet –” he started and at his repeated endearment, something fundamental inside her that was holding together by a miracle broke apart.
“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, the tears clearing from her voice and eyes. “Don’t you dare. You wanted a crack at me?” she asked and James flinched, his eyes shot to his brother in what Belle read as guilt causing her heart to flutter in an altogether too painful way before they came back to her on her next words. “You got it. Three of them if I’m counting right. You won, James,” she told him and his eyes narrowed when she used his real name. “You can stop playing the game. Just note your hash mark on the board, move onto your next victim and leave me alone.”
She yanked from his hold and started to walk away but he caught her by the wrist again.
“Belle, listen to me –” he began when her eyes moved to his.
“No, I listened to you last night when you told me I could trust you,” Belle shot back. “You lied. I’m not listening to you again.”
James’s face changed. It took on a look of frustrated but controlled anger and he used his hand to bring her closer as he looked to the door.
“Get out and close the door behind you,” he ordered.
“Don’t bother,” Belle said immediately to the women who hesitated at the door. “I’m leaving.”
“Belle, we’re talking,” James told her.
That something that was broken inside her started cutting deep, the jagged ends tearing at her insides. The pain was immense and she couldn’t hold on much longer.
“Take your hand off me,” she demanded.
“Belle, we’re talking,” James repeated.
Belle leaned in, overcome by hurt and humiliation, she screeched into his face. “I said, take your hand off me!”
Then, with force, she pulled free and started running.
He caught her just feet from the door with an arm around her waist. Joy and Yasmin had begun to move aside but stopped when he swung her around.
“Get out and close the goddamned door,” James clipped harshly.
Belle twisted around in his arm to look at Joy. “Don’t close that door!”
“Belle, darling…” Joy started but Belle didn’t listen. She’d dropped her suitcase somewhere along the line and was struggling in earnest to break free of James’s arm that was held tight around her waist.
“Go and close the f**king door!” James shouted and Belle heard everyone move around her, including Miles. Someone closed the door but she was still pushing against his arm with her hands and her weight.
Once the door closed, James used his arm to shake her gently.
“Calm down,” he ordered, his mouth at her ear, the heat of his body pressed against her back.
“Let me go,” she demanded.
“Belle, I don’t know what Miles said to you –”
“Miles didn’t say much of anything except he called me a f**king whore,” Belle snapped, gained an inch but only so James could turn her to face him then both his arms locked around her. She stopped struggling, looked up at him and added, “Twice.”
“That’s unfortunate, love, but –” he began but she cut in.
“Unfortunate? You call that unfortunate? I’ve never been called a whore in my life!” she screamed.
“Belle –” he started again but she kept talking.
“And I deserved it. He was right. I know it, you know it. That’s exactly how I acted.”