Chapter 65

I bite my bottom lip to curb the urge to burst into stupid tears and focus on my refuge. My gentle giant, my friend, and how he urges me to him like the solid dude I know he can be. He would never turn demon prick on me to keep face.

“Do so and make it snappy.” Again, with that sinister, cold, dickhead tone and I walk off at speed to hide how much I hate this version of him.

He just undid so much in a two-second conversation.

Anger soaring in to push the pain aside, and every damn doubt, fear and disbelief in me the other night swoops back in full force at the return of Tosser Carrero. Bruised and struggling to brush it off.

“Ignore him, Miss. This is how he is sometimes. He has to keep up appearances.” Jackson pats me on the shoulder as I enter the kitchen, seemingly in the know, and he fills the large urn we have in here for coffee. I can feel his eyes darting from me to what he’s doing, but he stays quiet.

It’s a colossal steel canister thing that qu