Page 204 of Reckless Obsession

“You were supposed to be at the event, Tristan.”

I look at him once, then back at my bowl.

“I changed my mind.”

Jake walks toward the island as though he has every right to. As though the apartment still recognizes him. “That event had people you needed to speak to. Donors. Board members. People who rearranged their schedules because you confirmed your attendance.”

“I know.”

“And you simply decided not to come?”

“I changed my mind,” I repeat.

His jaw shifts.

I lift my gaze to his. “Do you need me to say it in Spanish? It seems you’re having trouble processing it in English.”

“Why are you being difficult?”

The question almost makes me laugh.

“Why are you here?” I ask instead. “You are not supposed to be here.”

Jake lets out a mocking scoff. He pulls a heavy gold key ring from his pocket and tosses it onto the marble between us with a sharp, ringing clatter.

“I have a key. And I know the security code. In case you forgot, this is our home.”

A dry, bitter laugh scrapes past my teeth. “Do you need a brain reset, Jake? Or did you conveniently forget the paperwork we signed in front of a judge? This place stopped being your home the second our divorce was finalized two years ago. How many fucking times do I have to say it?”

“We’re back together, Tristan,” Jake shoots back, slamming his palms flat against the marble, his eyes narrowing into venomous, manic slits. “Or do you need a reminder of what the past three months have been about? You don’t get to play the cold stranger when you’re cornered.”

“You are a stranger to me, Jake.” I stand up from the stool, towering over him, entirely exhausted by the food and the toxic air he brought into the room. “Please leave. I am not in the mood for your bullshit tonight.”

Something ugly flashes across his features. He straightens slowly, crossing his arms over his chest, his lip curling.

“You know you can’t avoid me forever, right?” he sneers. “You know that if you step out of line—”

“Right, right,” I cut him off, my tone bored, dead, and drained of patience. “You have enough manufactured leverage to throw the man I’m in love with into a federal prison cell for the rest of his life. Yeah, I get it, dipshit. That’s exactly why I’ve been tolerating your pathetic little public appearances and staged photos for the past three months.”

Jake freezes. The arrogant smirk on his face falters, replaced by a sudden, stunned incredulity.

“In love?” he repeats. The word sounds like poison on his tongue, but beneath the venom, there’s an unmistakable, humiliating crack of genuine hurt in his voice. “You’re in love with that unhinged Russian killer? You must be joking.”

“What does it matter?”

I pick up the untouched bowl of pasta, walk over to the trash can, and dump the entire contents inside with a dull, wet thud. I drop the empty bowl into the sink, entirely sick of the food, sick of the apartment, and sick of the fucking loser standing in my space.

I turn back to him, meeting his wounded, furious glare with dead eyes.

“He doesn’t want to see me anymore anyway,” I say, the confession ripping through my ribs even as I say it flatly. “He hates my fucking guts. He won’t even look in my direction. That’s exactly what you wanted, right? You’ve always loved seeing me miserable.”

I reach into the open cabinet, grab an unopened bottle of scotch by the neck, and turn away.

I walk down the hallway toward my bedroom without looking back, leaving him standing alone in the kitchen, not giving a single damn about whatever pathetic, venomous reply he has waiting for the dark.

Chapter 34

MAKSIM