Truth (Betrothed #10) - Penelope Sky Page 0,9

I expected my father to push me onto somebody, but not my brother.

He didn’t say anything more about it, just stared at me with his hands in his pockets. He didn’t mention Heath just as he said he wouldn’t, but his gaze showed his disappointment perfectly.

“I hope you didn’t invite him just for my sake.”

“No. Ash and I have become good friends over the years. I was surprised Dad took such a liking to him.”

“Because Dad likes everybody.” I rolled my eyes.

“Not everyone.” The meaning of that statement was unmistakable.

I brushed it off. “Well, congratulations. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you. And thank you for being so good to her.”

“Of course,” I said. “Even if I didn’t like her, I would be nice to her—for you.” There was no double meaning to my words, but after I said them, I realized they could be interpreted in a different way. “You know what I mean…”

He didn’t say anything.

It would be easy for me to dislike Anna because she’d been married to the same man—twice. That relationship caused a lot of turmoil for my brother, put my family in jeopardy, even briefly held my own life in the balance. But that wasn’t how I judged people. I saw them for who they were, not their baggage. But maybe that kindness put me in the situation I was in now…

“Good night, Cat.” Damien turned away and headed back to the house.

I watched him walk away, already feeling the change in our relationship, feeling the change in everything. “Goodnight…”

Three

Heath

My ability to read people so well was one of the main reasons behind my success.

Along with my brute force, intelligence, and savage sarcasm.

And since I knew my woman so well, I could read her like she was under a microscope. There was definitely a barrier around her, a bit of distance that was still in place between us. I felt it diminish when we were together, when our eyes were locked and the love flowed between our hearts. But then it returned, subtly.

I decided to let her work it out on her own, not to question her in case it spooked her.

But she’d gone home for the weekend, and now it was Tuesday, and I hadn’t heard from her. No text. No phone call. Nothing.

I was too proud to chase after someone who didn’t want to be chased, but my patience was my weakness because I didn’t have any. If I had it my way, I’d burn her apartment to the ground and move her ass into my place.

But that wasn’t going to work on a woman like her.

She’d kick my ass.

And I’d enjoy every second of it.

When my patience had officially expired, I caved and texted her. Baby. That was all I said, that single word packed with an entire essay.

She texted back right away, those three little dots appearing. Sorry. Just been busy.

I didn’t like that excuse. Remember what happened last time you were too busy for me. I didn’t mean to threaten her, but threatening people was my entire life, and it just came out. I was frustrated she wasn’t there with me, that she wasn’t at least sleeping with me before she took off to take care of things.

The three dots didn’t show up in the message box.

Good. She better think about what I said.

The three dots appeared minutes later. I’ll be there soon.

That’s what I thought.

She walked in the door with her bag over her shoulder. Her makeup was gone, like she’d been at home doing nothing except drinking wine in front of the TV. Her hand moved through her hair as she set the bag on the kitchen island.

I didn’t rise from my seat on the couch. I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, my gaze down on the table. I didn’t look at her as I spoke. “Don’t play games with me.” After a few heartbeats, I lifted my gaze and stared at her. In the last four days, I’d improved, the bruises fading further, the physical therapy helping. I was shirtless in my sweatpants, watching the game as I drank water even though I craved something better.

She stood in front of the counter, slowly crossing her arms over her chest like she was uncomfortable. She was in jeans and a sweater, looking constrained by all the clothes she wore. “I’m not playing games—”

“Then why haven’t I seen you in four days?” I rose to my feet and slowly came toward her, able to hold my

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