Claiming What's Mine

a long, s

incts instead of using better judgment. I say a silent prayer of thanks that I didn’t stumble across him.

versation that would have taken place

atuation and get on with my life? My feelings for him aren’t healthy. I shou

oing in here?”

His jaw looks like it’s been carved from stone. The muscles o

nd in my head flee. I gape in surpri

iting out, “I asked what y

fi

sliding from his li

re time to come up with a believable excuse as to why I’

for him. He won’t like it. I don’t want to i

ient, Roman a

box of cigars from the humidor,” I

not. His steady gaze could burn holes through me. My heart hammers ag

ockingly, making me won

nd glass box in the corner. Opening the door, I select a box of Bolivar Belicosos. They’re pricey, but not in comp

portunity to poke holes through

doesn’t. His eyes stay locked on mine until I squirm with unease. The office is generous in size, but Roman’s

ar unfazed. “I should really get these cigars to him.” I internally flin

t or flight response kicks in as if I’m in imminent dang

to him. I allow my instincts to take over every time. I always give in to the need pumping through my veins and end up hurt

and replace them at a later time. The party should begin winding down soon.

e plucks the box of Bolivar Belicosos from my hand.

he says with a smirk. “No need to trouble yourself, princess.” His

ages to prick my temper, I swallow my

ks them out of my reach. Anger stings my

dam

s that my father never asked for the

m

there’s no way for me to reach it unless I close the distanc

ensing as if he’s gone on high alert. His fingers

racks like thunde

the harshness

is jaw. “I don’t wa

ip and step away from him. He’s not the only one who needs distance. Hurt fl

good to lash out at him. I want to inflict just as much

“You’re right,” he agrees. “Whatever

s spite, I spit

oman more than I’ve

oo

er’s cigars forgotten. All the joy from c

stard? If I have any brains whatsoever, this will be the final straw. This wil