“Did you hurt him?” My voice still sounds weak, and I hate myself for it.
“Not yet.” He crosses his leg over the other and casually leans back. “Unlike you, Lyriope, I don’t make life-and-death decisions on impulse.”
He’s right. He’s fucking right. I did act on impulse. I didn’t think. I wasn’t intelligent. I was so damn stupid. I was thinking of me, and only me.
Just like my mother.
I need to make this right. I need to fix this. I need to do whatever it takes to guarantee that Dylan and everyone in my life doesn’t have to suffer because of my choices. I have to do whatever it takes…
“I’m sorry, Nick. I know we had a contract. I know we had—”
“Fuck the contract,” he snaps. “This is not about that. It’s never been about that between us, and you fucking know it.”
I see him take a deep breath, then he drinks from his wineglass, visibly relaxing before my eyes. The way the man can morph from one emotion to the next is jarring, but I’m starting to expect nothing less. It’s what makes him so terrifying. You never know what you are going to get with Nick Hudson.
“Then why are you here?” I ask, my voice low and raspy. “Is there a debt still owed?”
“Shh.” He puts his finger to his mouth. “Take your clothes off,” is his only command.