Page 26 of Sin of Love
Until that moment, a part of me was convinced the visit from Marco in my cell was a drug-induced hallucination. Clearly it wasn’t.
But nothing’s changed. Even with the odds stacked high against me, I want to live. Which means Julep, and likely Maggie, have to die.
“What are you thinking about, muñequita? Your beautiful eyes are so sad.”
“Does it matter? You love it when I’m sad.”
His smile unfolds slowly, edged with our shameful secrets. “True, but only when I’m the one who’s made you that way. Now tell me what troubles you, and I’ll take it away.”
Anything I say now is a risk, but I can’t hesitate because he’ll assume I’m lying. Luckily for me, I’m a very skilled doll.
“A lot makes me sad right now,” I say on a sigh. “You know I hate the drugs. They make me slow and fuzzy.”
I don’t look at him as I speak, afraid that no matter how good an actress I am, he’ll see my underlying disgust. My hatred. My growing appetite for his pain; soon, it might rival his appetite for mine.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a young man approach with a bottle of wine. Julep waves him off and he immediately disappears into the shadows.
“What else?”
Another risk, this one larger.
“Margaret. She talks about you as though you’re hers. She’s younger than me, more beautiful. What if you decide you don’t want me anymore?”
The silence is worse than a blow. I instantly recognize my mistake—instead of stroking his ego, I reminded him of my betrayal.
My fingers and toes tingle, cold and numb, as the precursors of shock begin.
I am nothing.
“Deirdre, look at me.”
My stomach drops as I look at the Devil and see my imminent punishment in his eyes. Then sense rather than hear the snap of his rage.
His fists meet the tabletop in a heavy concussion. Plates rattle. Silverware clanks. An empty water glass tips over and rolls off the table, shattering on the tile.
“Ten. Fucking. Years!”
I don’t move. Don’t blink.
Once upon a time, Julep’s volatility had entranced me. He was so much more than anyone I’d ever met—more dangerous, violent, passionate… It was terrifying. And to a homeless, hopeless girl who’d grown up feeling powerless, that danger was seductive. Especially when it became obsession. Possession. No one had ever wanted me before. Not like he did, with an unquenchable thirst.
It took a lot to wake me the fuck up.
Julep’s hands flutter upward, fingers compulsively smoothing the hair at his temples. A familiar tick—and not a good omen of what’s to come.
“Ten years, Deirdre,” he growls. “A decade. Three years in an institution with gibbering idiots and psychos—where you put me. Another two years tracking you down and deciding what I wanted to do with you. Do you know how many times I almost killed you?”
I shake my head.
He laughs, jagged and merciless. “I came so close, once, but you didn’t even know it was me. I was so insulted, I let you live.”
My heart slingshots against my ribs. Delayed awareness rolls down my spine, tingling everywhere a barbed whip once landed. Red haze, blinding pain, my ignored safe word, Dominic hollering, throwing punches, sirens wailing. Hospital. Nate sobbing.
“Why, Dee?”
“Because I needed to feel something.”
“That was you?” I whisper, unable to mask the echo of pain—emotional and physical.
