Chapter 2 2
ARIELLE'S POV
My knuckles turned white as I clenched the box, the cardboard edges digging into my palm. I’d let myself come here, thinking I’d surprise him. The joke, it turned out, was on me.
Angel’s voice, that syrupy, fake-sweet tone I knew all too well from high school, where she’d made it her mission to make my life a living hell, echoed in my ears again.
“Your phone was ringing earlier,” she said. “I bet it was Arielle calling, right?”
I held my breath, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. There was a beat of silence, and I could picture Logan’s nonchalant shrug without seeing it.
“Probably,” his voice came, casual and clear. “I didn’t care enough to check.”
I felt the air leave my lungs. I didn’t care. The words were so simple, so effortlessly cruel.
I heard a soft giggle, the sound of a shuffle, and a soft thud against the couch in the room. Peering through the slightly opened door again, I saw Angel, all smirking lips and predatory grace, push him down onto the cushions. She settled herself on his lap, her arms looping around his neck. My stomach twisted.
“So, tell me something,” she purred, tracing a finger along his jaw. “Why are you even dating her? She’s so… plain. So not your type.”
Logan’s hand came up to rest on her hip, a gesture of familiarity that felt like a physical blow. “Arielle was never my fantasy,” he said, and the dismissal in his voice was a knife to the heart. “She lured me in. You know how she is, always so earnest, so there. It was easy.”
Angel let out a low, throaty laugh. “Oh, I see. But what do you think will happen when she finds out about us?”
He shrugged again, a movement I could feel more than see. “She’s so innocent. She can never suspect me. She’d never let me go.”
That was it. The last thread of my composure snapped. A cold, sharp smirk twisted my lips, a foreign expression that felt right at home on my furious face. I didn’t think. I didn’t plan. Clenching the gift box so hard I thought the velvet might tear, I took one step back and kicked the door with the flat of my boot.
The force was unimaginable, even to me. The wood splintered around the lock, the hinge screaming as it tore from the frame, and the door swung inward with a crash that shook the wall. They both jolted apart, their faces a perfect canvas of pure, unadulterated shock.
“Arielle?” Angel gasped, her hand flying to her chest in a performance of startled virtue. The bitch was actually acting surprised.
My eyes flicked to Logan, who was fumbling, his fingers clumsy as he tried to button his shirt and pull up his zipper in one panicked motion. The sight was so pathetic it was almost funny.
“Wow,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I never knew there was this much fun going on in here. You should have sent an invite.”
Logan scrambled to his feet, his hands held out in a placating gesture. “Arielle, wait… nothing happened, I can explain—”
“Save the lies, Logan,” I cut him off, the words ice. “I heard it all. Every single word. And you know what? I’m glad. I’m glad I finally know what sort of a prick you really are.”
He hurried towards me, his expression pleading. “Please…”
He reached for me, and I didn’t hesitate. My fist, the one not crushing his anniversary gift, swung in a tight, furious arc. It connected with his jaw with a solid, satisfying crack. Pain shot up my wrist, a bright, clean pain that felt better than any touch of his ever had.
I shook my hand out, then stuck my middle finger straight in his stunned face.
“Fuck you,” I spat, each word a bullet.
I turned on my heel and walked out, leaving the broken door and their silence behind me.
“Arielle, wait!” he called out, his voice muffled.
I kept walking, my strides long and quick down the hallway. Behind me, I heard Angel’s shrill voice. “Stop, Logan! She punched you and you’re going after her? Don’t be stupid!”
I blinked hard, fighting back the hot press of tears. No. No, you will not cry. Not here. Not for him.
But my heart felt like it had been put through a shredder. He’d said those things. With Angel. Angel, of all people.
I hurried my steps, my heels clicking a frantic rhythm on the tile, sensing him following me. I pushed through the heavy door leading to the bar’s exit, the cool night air hitting my face.
Just as I stepped out of the hallway, a hand closed around my arm, pulling me to a stop. “Arielle, stop!”
I yanked my arm back with a force that surprised us both, spun around, and slapped him. The sound was sharp and final in the quiet night.
He recoiled, his hand going to his cheek. “I’m sorry! God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I don’t give two flying fucks about betrayers, Logan.”
He groaned, a sound of frustration. “I’m not a betrayer! I’m the one you love. The only one. I know you’re angry, but this is just a front. You can’t just turn it off.”
“Really?” I asked, my voice dripping with a newfound, icy amusement.
“Yes. I love you, and I know you love me. You can’t ever leave me.”
I chuckled, a dry, hollow sound. “Wow. You think I won’t move on after you? You’re a joke. Just so you know, I actually moved on before I caught you with that bitch.”
His smug expression shattered. “What?”
Now I was turning the tables. A slow, deliberate smirk spread across my lips. My eyes scanned the dimly lit room, landing on the end of the bar across us, where the lone figure I had seen earlier was lighting a cigarette. My gaze travelled over him. Now I could acknowledge, even from here, that he definitely had a hot back, broad and solid.
The moment he arose from the stool, I didn’t think twice. I started walking toward him, my decision made.
I halted for just a second when I saw his front view. He wasn’t any young man. He was quite old either, maybe in his forties, but… super hot. He was tall, with a sharp, severe handsomeness that was etched into his face. He was sinfully sexy in an almost terrifying way, his jaw clenched tight as he looked at me approaching, his eyes holding a dark, unreadable intensity, like he was going to punish me for even daring to glance at him.
But that didn’t deter me. It fueled me.
I walked right up to him, reached up, grabbed his face in my hands, and crashed my lips onto his.
The kiss was explosive and so strange. It wasn’t gentle or questioning. It was a collision. His lips were firm, and he tasted of whiskey and smoke. For a heart-stopping moment, he was completely still, a statue under my assault. Then, a low rumble vibrated in his chest, and one of his hands came up to cup the back of my head, not pushing me away, but holding me there, his other arm banding around my waist to pull me flush against him.