Page 155 of Cruel Throne

The door opens.

I straighten.

Lorenzo steps into the room, closing the door behind him with controlled force. His eyes snap to mine immediately.

“What are you doing?”

“Relaxing.” I shrug.

“Stop.”

“No.”

We stand there, facing off across a few feet of polished wood.

“You don’t get to threaten people because I speak to them,” I say.

His mouth curves slightly. “I don’t threaten. I clarify.”

“You clarified very loudly.”

Now a full-fledged smirk greets me. “Only for you.”

I step closer. “You’re jealous.”

The grin drops from his face. “I don’t get jealous,” he scoffs.

I cock a brow. “You threatened to blind someone.”

“Efficient communication.” Lorenzo shrugs.

I shake my head. “I don’t understand this obsession.”

Something flickers in his expression. Not anger. Exposure. “You think you were temporary,” he says quietly. “One summer . . .” I don’t move. “You weren’t. You were never the middle. You were it.”

The words settle heavily in my chest. “That’s not love,” I whisper.

“No,” he agrees. “It’s worse.”

Silence hums between us, tight and volatile. I’m not sure what he will do. Maybe step closer, or perhaps that’s just wishful thinking from a place deep inside me. Instead, he steps back.

“Go upstairs,” he says. “And stop flirting with my men.”

“Or what?”

His eyes darken. “Or I’ll stop pretending I have restraint.”

He turns and walks away, and I stay where I am, heart pounding, breath shallow.

Because I didn’t flirt for attention, I flirted to test a theory, and now I know . . .

He can cage my body. Control the house. Hell, he can even threaten my world.

But he can’t control what he wants.

And what he wants is me.

43