Page 32 of Billionaire’s Cruelty

“Then why didn’t you help me?”

“With the fake document?” He shut the oven door with a quiet thud.

“Yes.”

He grabbed a cloth, wiping down the surface before moving to the sink to wash his hands under the stream of water.

When he finally spoke, his voice was maddeningly casual.

Help you and miss out on the opportunity to see you?” He turned his head slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Now why would I do that?”

A sharp pressure coiled in my chest. Nothing had changed—always the same games.

“How did you know I’d come to you?”

“I didn’t.” He flicked off the faucet and shook the water from his fingers before filling the kettle. “But here you are.”

I shallowed hard, forcing myself to focus on his words and not the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt.

“Dannie—”

“June.”

The way he said my name—smooth, familiar—made my heart skip a beat.

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t say my name like that,” I half-whispered, half-grunted.

“Like what?” He let out a low chuckle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Like I’m…” The words tangled in my throat. How could I explain this to him? All I knew was that when he said my name like that, it stripped away my defenses. It made me feel small—like a little woman who needed attention, protection… love. I hated how easily he could do that.

“A puppy or something.” I finally blurted out. It wasn’t quite right, but it was the closest thing I could come up with.

“I see. But isn’t that a good thing? Puppies are cute. People like puppies.”

“No one wants to be treated like a puppy, Dannie.”

His smile deepened, though his eyes held something darker beneath the surface. “I don’t get it. So… that’s a bad thing then?”

Our eyes locked. I forced myself to look away, focusing instead on the sleek lines of the remodeled kitchen. “The kitchen’s new too. What happened to the old one?”

“Bad people.”

His tone was casual—too casual. But I knew I shouldn’t have asked. Of course, bad people had done it. In his world, there was no shortage of enemies—the rival gangs, the police, the traitors within his own ranks. And those he’d wrong… or those who simply believed he had.

I swallowed hard, pushing past the unease crawling up my spine. “And the rest of the apartment?”

“They didn’t get that far.”

Dannie rolled up the sleeves of his sky-blue shirt—left first, then right. But my breath caught when I saw it. A jagged scar stretched across his left arm, cutting through the hawk tattoo I used to trace my fingers over—the one I had always adored.

Without thinking, I reached for his arm, leaping out from the black leather chair too quickly. My foot caught on the edge of the rug, and before I knew it, I was falling. Instinct kicked in—I threw my arms up to shield my face from the inevitable impact. But the floor never came.

Strong hands caught me just in time, pulling me against his chest. One arm wrapped around my waist, steadying me as my heart hammered in my ears.