A laugh slips out of him as he turns around and walks away. I nearly trip over my own feet in my rush to catch up, the paralysis fading as fear of him abandoning me threatens to engulf me. “Eli, wait! Just talk to me. I don’t… I can’t understand what you’re talking about.”
Slowly, he turns back to face me, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “West. I’m talking about West.”
Silence descends and settles in the air between us, dense and heavy. While I still grapple with what the fuck is happening and what West could have possibly said to Eli, one thing becomes clear.
They’ve never liked each other. Eli’s feelings stem from jealousy, while West on the other hand, doesn’t need a reason to dislike anyone—it’s just who he is.
No matter how many times I’ve tried to explain to Eli that West and I are nothing but business partners—his father’s real estate company works closely with my dad’s investment trust—Eli has remained insecure about it.
“What did he tell you?”
He pauses, seemingly weighing whether I’m worthy of the truth before running a hand through his messy hair. “I told you, Venetia. He laughed in my face. Said I had no place there, that the party was only for privileged people likeyou. I just don’t understand why you would do that to me. Why would you choose him over me?”
I shake my head, reaching for him, but he shrugs my hands away. Tears blur my vision, and inside, I scream for him to understand, to hear and believe me, but he doesn’t. I’ve never given him a reason to doubt my loyalty, yet now he makes me feel as if I’ve betrayed him—like I’ve slept with the entire city, which is why he can’t trust me.
Trying to prove myself to him feels like attempting to strike a match in the rain. So much effort for nothing.
I keep looking at him, even though he won’t spare me a glance. If he dislikes West so much, why hasn’t he confronted him? Why hasn’t he fought for me?
Grace was right. I’m not asking him to fight West physically; simple words would suffice.
A part of me wants to laugh at how I never learn from my mistakes. Before Eli, I had one boyfriend who quickly became my husband, and throughout those years together, I’d tried to elicit the same fucking things from him.
I always did what was expected of me, putting men first and neglecting myself in the process. And where has that gotten me? Here I am, humiliating myself for nothing—again.
Tiny icy needles prick at my eyes, causing Eli’s features to blur into a splash of colors. A ringing fills my ears, blending with my heartbeat as it quickens, the second wave of my frustration crashing over me.
West has always been an unbearable asshole, but this? This is beyond forgiveness. He thinks he can ruin everything I’ve fought so hard to build and protect for so long without facing any consequences.
That infuriates me, but what’s even more annoying is how he underestimates me. He believes I’m powerless because our company relies on theirs. His father owns the entire city, and West thinks that gives him the right to do whatever the fuck he wants.
But they’re nothing without us. Money is the key to success, especially for sharks like them. We secure the funding for every single one of their projects. We control the money far more than they realize. If he thinks I’ll sit back and tolerate his tricks, he’s mistaken.
Annoyance swiftly builds into anger, intensifying as I remain rooted to the spot, Eli’s complaints muffled beneath the weight of my emotions. I could kill West—strangle him with my own hands. God, I’ve fantasized about it countless times, imagining how he’d finally shut up, that arrogant gleam in his eyes fading as I applied pressure to his neck, feeling his heartbeat beneath my fingertips...
But he’s stronger than I am—much stronger. His hand can cover my entire face. How am I supposed to take him down? I need to think. Rage is useful when it fuels desire, providing that rough kick in the ass, but logic and rationality must prevail if I want a real solution.
So I inhale a deep, calming breath, taking a moment to gather my thoughts.
And after a couple of seconds, an idea crystallizes in my mind, and my face breaks into a smile.
Heavy metal thumpsthrough my headphones as I walk toward my destination, my head bobbing from side to side. I crack my muscles, exhaustion sweeping over me like a tidal wave. I could’ve spent the evening at the center caring for the animals, but West fucking Reyes has a knack for ruining everything. He poisons everything around him, making it wilt without a chance to recover.
As I inhale, I feel the tremor in my breath, my lungs aching from the depth of the intake. But I’m not afraid; in fact, I feel the opposite.
I’m fucking thrilled.
With long strides, I quickly reach one of his properties. That greedy bastard owns too many houses, each one tailored to his whims, and tonight, this one is pure gold for me. It’s a place where he keeps his beloved Bugatti. The idiot never drives it—probably too scared he’ll fuck it up like he does with everything else. It’s one of his most prized possessions, one of the first big purchases he made after getting rich. What I can’t overlook,though, is his hard work and dedication. Whatever it takes, he always gets the job done.
That’s the only quality that resonates with me.
He earned that car through blood, sweat, and millions of lost nerve cells. That’s why burning it down will fucking break him.
I’ve never done anything like this before, and honestly, I’m surprised at how quickly the idea came to me. There was no hesitation on my part.
I reach the fence, climb over it, and hop down, landing with a thud that sends vibrations through my sneakers. Luckily, he never parks it in the garage, so I don’t have to hack the panel. Instead, the car sits in the yard, its polished surface gleaming in the dim streetlight, as if beckoning me to act.
I don’t waste time. Pulling a bottle of gasoline from my bag, I unscrew the lid and pour it over the car. Amidst the distant wail of sirens, the splashing of liquid echoes, accompanied by the sound of my feet scraping against the rough asphalt. This neighborhood is usually quiet, offering me plenty of opportunities. Honestly, considering how many times this fucker has messed with me and set me up, this hardly feels like enough. I could have devised something more elaborate to drive him even crazier, but I lack both the time and the desire.
