“You piece of shit, you have no idea what you’ve just done,” I say, trying to yank my wrist free of his bruising hold. “And it’s not a separation. I fucking dumped you, you swine.”
The air shifts against the back of my neck. Rich notes of bergamot and lavender snake through my senses a moment before a chilling, smoky voice speaks behind me.
“I will break your ribs open and tear your heart out if you don’t take your hands off her.”
No fucking way!
Bernard’s hold loosens, and I can finally pull my wrist away and take a step back. But I falter when a hand slides over the small of my back and wraps around my waist. My spine snaps straight, and an apprehensive shiver runs over it.
I’m pressed against the towering body standing next to me, and his marvelous scent is hypnotizing. Is it really him? I force composure as I tilt my head with such calmness. I’m proud of myself.
And I’m right—Carter Pierce holds me against him, regarding myhusbandwith a cold, eerie gaze that seeps bone-deep. I’m curious about the effect it has on Bernard, but I can’t tear my eyes off of the carved, sharp features of the man who tightens his grip on me like I’m about to bolt.
Then he looks down, and something so much more visceral bleeds through his expression. It shines a lot like possessiveness.
I think his scent got to my head.
“Hello, Scarlet.” A sly smirk ghosts across his lips, and I think I’m melting. Just a little.
Who am I kidding? I’m at the brink of becoming nothing more than a puddle.
He dips down before I get a chance to greet him, and I’m fucking startled silly when his nose slides over that sensitive spot where my ear meets my jaw. The gentle touch rips an embarrassing giggle out of me.
It freaking tickles.
For one brief moment, he stalls.
Only one, devoid of breath and heartbeats, before he presses his lips there.
The tickle dissipates completely, heat pooling low in my belly, a shiver breaking over my skin as my muscles seize. When he rises, I’m pretty sure all the air in the world is sucked out, because there’s none in my damn lungs.
What the hell just happened?
“I know we were supposed to meet at my place, but I thought I would pick you up instead, love.”
His place . . . pick me—love?
My brain is short-circuiting.
“Oh my god, you’re . . .” Ariana gasps.
I quickly recover, leaning into him as I plaster my most charming smile on my lips. “Always so thoughtful, baby. Thank you.”
It’s not hard work. At all. Not when he looks at me like he’s putting no effort into this. It comes all too naturally.
His gaze flickers down to my hand, and every muscle in his face and throat tightens at once.
I follow his line of sight, noticing the angry red darkening around my wrist.For fuck’s sake, now I need to get that checked out.
“I’m okay,” I wrap my arm around his waist and hold him to me.
He doesn’t recoil. Doesn’t stiffen. He already holds me near enough to him that I couldn’t possibly tug him any closer. His icy, furious stare finds mine again, but there’s no threat. Not directed at me, anyway. Right there, in that peering blue inside the hazel of his eyes, there is softness bred of possessiveness. It’s all mine, and I’m not even sure he knows it’s there.
“Now, love, please introduce me to the man who dared lay a fucking finger on you.” He turns his menacing attention on Bernard, and I hear a shift before me.
I almost forgot he was there.
“Right, yes. This is Bernard Camora, my ex-husband,” I say, noticing Ariana’s gaze roaming all over Carter.
