Page 66 of Dangerous Attraction

"I know," I mutter. "I-I just—I needed the rest of my stuff."

An eerie silence stretches between us, but then his dark chuckle fills my ears, mere seconds before his hand wraps around the back of my neck. He pulls me away from the wall and tips my head back at a painful angle.

His fingers dig into my skin, and I'm glad we're shrouded in darkness because then he can't see that the pain makes me wince.

"You're not welcome here," he bites, words ringing in my ear from his close proximity. "You never were, and you never will be."

He drags me sideways, then forcefully pushes me forward. I stumble over my feet, my hands slapping against the door in a failed attempt to keep my face from smashing into it as I fall to the ground.

I don't give the pain time to register before I quickly flip myself around so my back is no longer facing him.

"I won't come back," I promise, my voice shaking. "Just give me my things, and I'll go. You'll never have to see me again."

I hear him stumble, then the sound of a glass smashing against the floor echoes throughout the space.

"You think you deserve anything in here?" He scoffs.

"I'm not taking anything that's not mine," I tell him, as I push myself up from the floor. My eyes dart around the darkened room, trying to get a sense of where he is since he stumbled and possibly fell over.

Within the blink of an eye, he pushes his way in front of me, his hand tangling its way into my hair as he slams the side of my face into the counter.

He makes a noise of disgust, bending down until his breath skates over my cheek.

"You've already taken what's not yours!" he shouts.

A pained garble escapes me when he pins my head against the countertop, but he doesn't let up.

Sneering, he continues.

"All your life, you've been a selfish little bitch. All you ever do is take, and take, and take. It's no wonder I never wanted you in my life. Just look at what you did to your mother," he roars. "You took my Connie!"

"I never took her away from you!" I scream. Lifting my hand to his, I try to pry his fingers off my face. "She died. She was sick, and she fucking died."

"And it was your fault!" He loosens his grip, only to wrap his fingers into my hair and push my head back down onto the counter. "She was fine before you came into our lives. She was perfect. We both were. Then you came along. She gave everything to you, and then you ruined it."

Tears trickle from the corner of my eyes as his words pierce through my already bruised and broken heart.

"It wasn't my fault," I sob.

Using his hold on my hair, he pulls my head upward, then slams me into the front door as he steps toward me.

"You're the reason she changed," he spits. "You drained her of every little bit of goodness she had. You took it all from her, and then once she was gone, you tried to replace her."

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did!" He slams his fist into the door beside my head. "First it was the brown hair, then it was the freckles, and the perfume. Then the moaning, and the complaining. But you could never be her, Beatrix. You're not worthy enough."

My chest heaves with each breath as tears fall rapidly down my face.

"I grew up," I whisper, voice breaking as I speak. "It's not my fault I started to look like her."

"It's just another thing you took from her," he grumbles as he finally releases his hold on my hair and pushes away from me. "I won't allow you to take anything else."

Trembling from head to toe, I twist my arm behind my back, my fingers fumbling around until they find the handle on the door. I quickly push it down, then kick at the door until it opens.

Snatching my bag from the floor, I jump down the steps, falling to the ground.

My shoulders shake uncontrollably, and I squeeze my eyes shut when the door slams behind me.