Chapter 50
Chapter 50:
I was half-dead on the couch, scrolling through dog videos for inspiration when someone started pounding on the door. I hadn’t ordered food. Yvaine wasn’t coming tonight. And with the building pass required to get to my floor, it left…
Sighing, I opened the door.
Yep. Rhys Granger, looking like someone had pissed in his Cristal.
“Nope,” I said immediately, attempting to slam the door shut.
He shoved his foot in the way. “You dodging me now? Got something to say p>
“Say it. Then leave p>
“If you married that guy just to spite me, you win. Fine. You win. I’m here now. You got what you wanted p>
I laughed. “You think I got married to piss you off p>
“Didn’t you?” he said, his jaw tight. “You’ve been into me since we were kids. You don’t just flip a switch and stop. Everything you’re doing right now is just a game p>
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
I folded my arms. “Rhys, the day you let my darling sister crawl into your lap at that bar was the day I stopped liking you. Yeah, I used to be an idiot, but I’m not anymore. So let me make this crystal clear.” He blinked.
I leaned forward.
“I. Am. Married. I have a husband. A real one. Not a maybe-one-day-if-you-behave placeholder. You and I? We’re nothing. I don’t love you. I don’t even like you now. Got it? Is that enough closure for you p>
Rhys just stood there, shoulders slumped, mouth half-open.
Good. Let it sting.
His breathing went erratic, like someone had stuffed a sock down his throat.
“No. No way. You can’t not love me.” He sounded like a broken chatbot. “You marrying Ashton Laurent? That was the real joke. You think the heir to the Laurent empire’s actually gonna fall for you? Maybe he played along for now ‘cause you blackmailed him p>
“Or whatever, but once he comes to his senses, you won’t even know what hit you before you’re out on your arse—or dead.” I looked up at the ceiling, praying for patience.
𝖀ρ𝓭α𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇ɩү 𝗈𝗇
Why the hell did I never notice how exhausting it was just talking to Rhys?
I’d said what I needed to say.
I wasn’t wasting another breath.
“Do not come back here,” I said, then turned and slammed the door.
Well, I tried to slam it.
Except his foot was still in the gap.
There was a solid “crunch p>
Followed by the kind of scream that probably made my neighbors reach for their phones.
“AAAAAHH!! My foot!! Mirabelle, are you trying to murder me p>
I glanced down.
His polished leather shoe had a dent, but I didn’t see blood or bone fragments.
“Move it,” I said coolly. “Or next time I’ll snap the whole damn thing p>
“No!” Rhys gritted his teeth and clung to the doorframe.
He grabbed my wrist hard and yanked me out into the hallway.
“You think you can just shut the door on me? I’m not done talking p>
“Let go of me!” I twisted, trying to pull free, but his grip was vice-tight.
I could feel it pressing straight into the bone.
“Rhys! You’re hurting me, you lunatic p>
He didn’t reply. It was like he’d gone full zombie mode and couldn’t hear me. Worse—he started dragging me towards the lift.
“You’re coming home with me p>
“The hell I am! Let go p>
I was debating whether kneeing him in the groin was worth a trip to the police station when the lift let out a cheerful “ding p>
Ashton strode out, stopped short at the sight of us, then picked up his pace.
He was right in front of me in a matter of seconds and landed a punch straight into Rhys’s face.
Rhys made a choked-up sound, somewhere between a yelp and a dying pigeon. Then Ashton grabbed his shirt collar with one hand and clamped down on Rhys’s wrist with the other.
He yanked him clean off me like peeling off a cheap sticker.
“Who the fuck are you?!” Rhys gasped, hunched over like a kicked bin.
He looked dazed, probably couldn’t see past the cartoon stars circling his head. Ashton’s voice came down like a guillotine: “Lay a hand on her again, and I’ll kill you p>
Rhys spat out a mouthful of blood, then tried squinting up at the newcomer’s face.
I knew the moment he recognized Ashton, because he flinched.
And I couldn’t blame him.
Even I was a little scared.
Ashton had delivered his threat in a perfectly calm voice, and something told me he’d have no trouble carrying it out.
Rhys, for all his puffed-up ego, couldn’t even stand straight.
Panicking, he backed away a step and shouted, as if volume could make up for his lack of courage, “Mirabelle is my fiancée! What I do with her is none of your business p>
That last part came out about three decibels softer than the rest.
Even Rhys himself didn’t believe it.
Ashton took a step forward.
Rhys scrambled back farther.
Ashton parked himself right in front of me like a six-foot human shield.
“Mirabelle is my wife. You show up at my place in the middle of the night harassing her, and you think that’s got nothing to do with me p>
Rhys swallowed. Loudly.
I could hear it from behind Ashton’s shoulder.
Even when he straightened up and tried to match Ashton’s height, he still had to tip his chin up just to make eye contact.
“You didn’t marry her willingly, right? If she’s got something on you—pictures, whatever—I can help. She blackmailed you, didn’t she p>
Wow. Willow Granger really had him out here reading off a script.
They’d convinced themselves I’d somehow blackmailed Ashton into marrying me.
What did they think I had on him? Dick pics? The nuclear launch codes?
I poked my head out from behind Ashton. “You are delusional p>
Gently, Ashton nudged me back.
The next second, his fist connected with Rhys’s other cheek. Dead center.
Now his face was finally symmetrical—swollen on both sides like a rotten melon.