Page 14 of Coal Hearts

His mouth fell open. “Oh shit, it’s money.”

“Lots of money,” the man muttered, his biceps flexing beneath his dark suit, seeming to strain at the seams even in the low light of the club. “Ten thousand euros, to be exact.”

Sam sucked in a breath. “And you’re casually throwing ten G around, why?”

“To get your attention.”

Sam cracked a smile. “Well, you certainly got it.” He slapped the soggy envelope against his other palm. His smile fell. “Wait...why? You’re not some creep trying to proposition me, are you? I know we’re in France, and this is the city of love and all, and I just had a fairly public breakup, but I’m not gonna suck your dick for ten grand, man.”

I stiffened, waiting for the stunning stranger to react.

He didn’t.

He stayed tall and stoic, his glower never leaving Sam’s face.

Sam shifted uncomfortably, placing the money back on the bar. His gaze met mine, and I already knew what his next move would be. It was what he’d always done: bolt.

Before he could run from a situation he couldn’t control, I smiled brightly. “Oh, come on, Sam. You’re single now. And didn’t you just finish telling me how bad I am at pleasuring you? Don’t you want someone who could show you a night of raw, primordial passion?” I pointed at the demigod. “I’m sure he could show you a few tricks. After all, it’s not just you who was disappointed in all our years together—”

“Why, you little bitch!” Sam launched himself at me. His fingers outstretched, his face contorted with hate.

I ducked but wasn’t fast enough. His hand latched around my throat and—

The stranger had Sam pinned in a chokehold a blink later.

“I suggest you let her go.” Holding my ex tightly against him, all while Sam spat curses and fought to get free, the man hissed, “Do not make a fucking scene.”

“Let me go, you bastard!”

“I’ll let you go the moment you agree to stand there, nicely, and stop drawing attention to us.” The guy curled his hand around Sam’s neck, squeezing until Sam’s fingers dropped away from mine. “Ne m’oblige pas à te faire du mal.”

“I don’t speak French, you motherfucker,” Sam snarled.

“I said...don’t make me hurt you. It’s not you I’m after.”

“Wait...what?” I swallowed hard, rubbing my throat from Sam’s grab as the man’s grey stare locked on mine. Every tingle, every awareness turned into little bolts of panic. “What do you mean?”

Shoving Sam away from him, the guy moved far too quick for me to run in my second-hand silver ankle boots.

“It’s you I’m after,” the man murmured, decadently, dangerously.

“Me?” I squeaked.

His fingers clamped on my shoulder, pinning me in place. Fire scorched through my veins from his pinching fingertips.

“Yes, you.”

My heart winged with terror.

We both faced Sam, me silently begging him to order the guy to let me go, all while the man smirked, knowing he’d already won.

“Samuel...” I said quietly, calmly. “I think it’s time for both of us to go, don’t you? This night hasn’t exactly turned out the way we thought it would, but I’m sure we can agree that—”

“Quiet, Illness,” Sam snapped, studying me, studying where the man held me, and studying the envelope of money on the bar. I had front-row seats to the horrible decision floating in his eyes. Revenge and fury and a shit-ton of pettiness drowned out whatever goodness was left inside him.

Oh no...

“Sam. Don’t. Whatever you’re thinking...don’t.” I rushed, “Look, I’m sorry for tonight. I’m sorry for the things I said. You can keep all my stuff in our apartment. Tell this bastard to let go of me, and I’ll leave right now. You’ll never see me again. Just like you wanted.”