Page 142 of Broken Crown

But if he didn't plan to marry me, what did he have planned for me?

What was his next move?

My stomach churned at the thought.

Because that was all this was, wasn't it? A calculated, vindictive game—nothing more.

I was a means to an end to Sebastian.

A pawn.

How could I have been so stupid to fall for him?

Fuck me. I had been in over my head from the very first moment we met.

The diamond on my hand caught my eye again. Determined to get it off this time, I wrapped my right hand around the band and tried once more to remove it.

The edges of the diamond cut into my palm but refused to budge.

Letting out a cry of frustration, I threw the covers off and got out of bed. I turned and stared at the wrinkled sheets. They taunted me. Every wrinkle and twist damning evidence of our lovemaking last night.

No, not lovemaking. Fucking.

That was what Sebastian did.

He fucked people.

He certainly fucked me.

Throwing myself back onto the bed, I clawed at the sheets, tearing them off the mattress. As if stripping the bed would somehow strip away the stain of all that we had done last night. Out of breath, I lurched upright and gathered the pile into my arms.

With determined steps, I stormed across the room to the elaborate marble fireplace. A swift kick collapsed the ornate brass fire screen. I then tossed the sheets into the fire.

The delicate fabric curled away from the flames. As if it were trying to protect itself from getting burned.

Too late, I taunted the inanimate fabric, hating the symbolism of the moment.

I returned to the bed and tore at the pillowcase with my smeared blood. In a huff, I tossed it on top of the already burning pile.

The flames cast an orange glow over my naked skin as I stood there and watched the sheets burn, as if I were a pagan goddess overseeing some ancient fertility ritual. The room filled with the scent of burning hair as the expensive sheets slowly turned into a pile of white ash.

Almost out of habit now, I tugged on the engagement ring.

Again, it wouldn't budge from my finger.

Dammit.

It would have been so fucking satisfying if I could have tossed the ring into the flames as well.

The image of Sebastian on his knees searching through the ashes for the supposed symbol of his love and devotion was a deliciously dark metaphor for our toxic relationship and appealed to my creative soul.

My desperate pleas from last night haunted me as the coming dawn peeked through his velvet curtains.

Say you love me, Sebastian.

I could bear it all if I knew you loved me.

It was all I could do to not reach into the ash and smear it over my cheeks like a sacrificial act of penance.