Page 35 of Unwritten Rules

“I would appreciate that, Tatiana. Thank you. I’ll drop by once more after work.”

Spinning on my heel, I begin the short trip back to the main house, almost within touching distance of the front steps, but I am pulled up short when I hear someone calling my name. I turn in the direction of the sound, only to immediately wish I’d continued walking.

“Nate. Can we talk, please?”

Fuck. My. Life.

Zara runs towards me, the early morning sun glinting off her shoulder-length ash blonde hair. She’s dressed in riding gear, no doubt on her way to my fucking stables.

“Zara, what the absolute hell do you think you’re doing? The Gate House was signed to you. The Gate House alone. Get the fuck off my property. Now!”

I move off, closing the gap between myself and the house, but she suddenly ducks around in front of me, effectively blocking my path.

I’m unable to help myself from glowering down at my ex. Her blue eyes fill with tears in the face of my wrath.

“But, Nate. The will isn’t...”

My jaw tics as I grit out the command. “Get the fuck out of my way. There’s nothing for us to discuss.”

A single tear tracks along her once-beautiful-to-me face as her eyes plead with me to listen, and the rational side of my brain whispers in my ear thoughts I’d never before entertained in my conscious mind.

Maybe a conversation would give closure, Hawthorne.

My nostrils flare as I speak low in my chest. “You’ve got thirty fucking seconds.”

I take a step backwards, making a point of glancing at my silver Rolex before gesturing impatiently that she should start.

“Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty—”

“I’ve always loved you.”

Her words catch me off guard entirely. I blink rapidly, shaking my head in disbelief as a dark laugh spills from my lips.

“I know love now, and what we once shared doesn’t even come close, Zara. Cut the bullshit. Twenty, nineteen, eight—”

She clasps her hands together, stepping closer and furrowing her brows. “I swear, I love—”

“Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen—”

She throws her hands up in exasperation, tutting loudly before levelling me with a look.

“I was young and bored. You were constantly surrounded by hordes of sluts throwing themselves…”

When I shoot her a quelling look, she trails off as I resume my countdown.

“Eight, seven, six—”

“I think we could be really great together, Nate.”

Not missing a beat, I lean right down to her face and snarl my utter disdain through gritted teeth. “You knew what life was like growing up under him. You knew I’d have given you the moon, had you but asked for it. So don’t go feeding me bullshit and trying to pass the blame. The fault lies with you. Now, last time. Get the fuck off my property.”

I pull myself up to my full intimidating 6’5” to square my shoulders and move past her towards the sanctuary of my house, only for my eyes to land on the ferocious sight bearing down on us.

Mila DeMarco is a vision marching barefoot across the still dewy grass, dressed in black satin pyjama shorts and a matching camisole. Her long dark hair is streaming out behind her, leaving her shoulders bare and squared – a warrior princess ready to do battle.

A fucking Hellcat, spewing fiery contempt from every pore of her delectable body and spitting hellfire from her glorious golden eyes. Eyes which are solely fixed on Zara’s back, blatantly willing to go to war.

For me.