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I’ll make them all pay for the way they betrayed my mother. And I’ll take vengeance for how they hurt Olympia.
Cocking my head, I listen to the silence again. Starting down the hall, I see her bedroom door closed and feel my lips quirk in a grin.
Finding her spread naked with her toy rubbing against her glistening cunt had been the least of my expectations last night.
Softening my steps, I listen at her door. When I hear a small moan—no—cry—my heart seizes.
I don’t think twice about opening her door and stepping into her room. I don’t even know why she’s in here. I told her last night that she was to be in my room from now on. That she was mine.
“Olympia?” I call her name gently, moving fast when her shoulders shake.
She’s laying on her bed facing the window, her back to me. But I can see well enough that she’s crying.
The fuck?
Did someone contact her? I thought she said she blocked them all?
I move fast to close the space between us as she makes quick work of wiping away the evidence of her tears. She fails miserably. The wet might be gone, but her face is red and blotchy. The tip of her nose is bright.
She’s not a pretty crier. She’s a beautiful crier. Her emotion a story of truth written into glassy eyes and flushed skin.
I don’t think as I scoop her up into my arms, sitting on the edge of her bed as I hold her against my chest.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” It sounds like a lie.
“Olympia,” I press. “You’re crying. Talk to me.”
“I don’t know what to say, Tav.” She does her best to push away from my chest. I don’t let her. “I don’t know what this is.”
“This?” My brows dip as I scowl.
She huffs, her body deflating as though she’s just too exhausted to continue the fight. “I’ll give you the will. We’ll fly to Carolina today, and I’ll give it to you.”
My frown deepens. “I already told you I have a copy of both the original and the forged.”
“Then what do you want?” She cries, her red-rimmed, blue eyes searching mine with a desperation that has my heart slamming violently in my chest. “What is this—this new—you?”
And it all comes down to trust. I fucked up. This—her distrust—it’s the consequence.
She’d been a child when I left. She’d been the only innocent one in the fucked-up picture of my past. Yet, I’d set the weight of my anger on her to bear. It shouldn’t be a surprise she’s cracked under the impossible pressure of it.
“Get dressed.” I set her on her feet, pinning her with a firm gaze. “We’re going out.”
Her head snaps back as though I’ve given her whiplash. “What?”
“Wear a nice dress.” My eyes scan over her body. “I like that little blue one you got last week.”
I almost grin when she stomps her little foot, folds her arms over her chest, and pouts. “I don’t want to go out.”
Without thinking, I grab her around the back of her neck and draw her into my chest. Her arms fall away from her chest to land on mine in an attempt to steady herself as I drop my mouth to hers, invading.
She tastes sweet. She always tastes sweet, like apples. But this time, beneath the sweet there’s a bitter tang of grief I never want to taste again. Still, I kiss her like I might just devour her, until the fight spills from her and she relaxes against me.
Pulling away, I look down into her face in time to see her bottom lip wobble. She might have kissed me back, but she’s having a hard time processing her emotions. She’s having a harder time trusting me when I tell her all the games are done. Forgotten. She’s mine, and I’m hers.
“The blue dress for me, yeah, Princess?” I request as softly as I can.
