Chapter 32: Twisted Hate: Chapter 32

If regular wedding ceremonies were long, royal ceremonies were interminable.

The novelty of being surrounded by the world’s richest and most famous faded fast the longer I sat on that ass-numbing wooden pew. I was happy for Bridget and Rhys, but all I could think about was Jules.

The way we left things the other night gnawed at me, and if we didn’t clear the air soon, I would fucking lose it.

I stared at her as she stood at the altar. She wore the same purple dress and carried the same bouquet as the other bridesmaids, but she glowed in a way that made it impossible to look away.

I traced her features with my eyes, soaking in the lush curve of her lips and the fine planes of her features. When she smiled at Bridget’s entrance, something tripped in my heart.

Some people smiled with their mouths; Jules smiled with her whole face. The sparkle in her eyes, the adorable crinkle of her nose, the small crease in her cheek…watching her smile was like watching the night sky light up with stars.

My muscles tightened when she scanned the pews. If she turned just one more inch…one more centimeter…

Our eyes met. Held.

White hot sparks of awareness blazed down my spine with such force I almost lurched off my seat. I curled my hand around my knee while Jules’s smile dimmed and her face flared with equal awareness.

The music drifting through the cathedral faded away, and I was gripped by the sudden urge to storm over to the altar and whisk her away to somewhere we could be alone.

A moment of eye contact wasn’t enough. I needed…fuck, I didn’t know what I needed. To apologize, to explain, to make her smile at me again the way she did before the other night.

I hadn’t spoken to Jules since the night of Bridget’s bachelorette. Forty-eight hours, and her absence was already eating me alive.

Sweat coated my palms.

I’d replayed the other night over and over again since it happened.

The unshed tears in her eyes. The hurt in her voice when she told me she overheard me talking to Ava. The way she just after we had sex.

It was the first time we’d truly adhered to the rules of our arrangement. Even our quickies at the beginning ended with some conversation. I thought I would welcome it, but all I’d wanted was to pull her back into my room and kiss away all her hurt.

I made it a point to keep my promises, but my vow to bring our relationship back to sex-only status had died faster than a moth flying into a lamp.

Bridget walked down the aisle and cut off my view of Jules for a second. By the time she passed, Jules had already looked away. Her eyes were now fixated on the archbishop, so determined I suspected she was making it a point to look at me again.

My hands fisted on the pew next to me.

We were in the same room, but I still missed her so much a moment of broken eye contact sent a deep ache spiraling through my chest.

What the fuck did say about me?

The sweat on my palms intensified.

It couldn’t be because…I couldn’t possibly…

The past two months raced through my head at warp speed. Everything from Vermont to the other night blurred together into one jumbled stream until cold realization rattled my lungs.

Mother By the time the ceremony ended and the reception rolled around, I was a coil of raw nerves and tightly wound emotion, and it finally snapped when I saw Jules laughing with Asher Donovan near the dance floor.

I’d tried to talk to her multiple times since we left the cathedral, but she always had some bridesmaid duty to fulfill.

Now that she was finally free, she was flirting with Asher fucking Donovan?

I didn’t fucking think so.

I stormed over to them and nearly bowled over the Prime Minister of Denmark in my haste. My heart pounded out a hard, territorial rhythm with each step.

Up until this moment, Asher had been one of my sports idols, but I wanted to gouge his fucking eyes out for looking at her like that. Like she could possibly be his when she so clearly, irrevocably belonged to Asher’s eyebrows shot up when he noticed my approach.

“Excuse me.” I forced a tight smile. “I’d like to speak with Jules.”

Jules’s shoulders visibly tensed. Instead of looking at me, she kept her eyes on the other man.

My blood burned.

I’d never been jealous over a woman before, and I hated how it made me feel. Like I was a train barreling toward the side of a mountain, out of control and on the verge of snapping.

“Sure.” Asher’s green eyes glinted with amusement. “Jules, it was nice meeting you.”

“You too.” She smiled at him, and the fire in my blood burned hotter. “Let’s meet up the next time you’re in D.C. You have my number.”

Meet up? Number? What the “I’d love to.” Asher kissed her on the cheek. Possessiveness burst, hot and ugly, in my chest. I wanted to yank him off her and deck him in his stupid pretty boy face. “See you around.”

Jules waited until he was out of earshot before turning to me. “Yes?”

“What the fuck was that?” I tried and failed to keep the territorial growl out of my voice.

“What was what?”

My jaw locked at her cool, impersonal tone. “

I gestured in the soccer star’s direction. “With Asher. Why the fuck does he have your number?”

“Because I gave it to him.” Jules raised her brows. “Is that why you so rudely interrupted us? Because we were in the middle of a conversation, and if you don’t have anything substantial to say, I’d like to continue it.”

I was tempted to drag her over my lap and spank her for her insolent tone, but there was something more important we needed to discuss besides Asher.

We could deal with him later.

“We need to talk. Alone.” I glanced at our friends, but they were too busy on the dance floor to pay attention to us.

“I’m busy, Josh. I have bridesmaid duties to fulfill.”

“They’re fulfilled.”

Bridget and Rhys already had their first dance and cut the cake, and all the guests were busy dancing, getting drunk, or gossiping on the sidelines.

World leaders: they were just like us.

“Oh, of course.” Jules placed a hand over her chest. “I defer to your vast experience as a bridesmaid. You clearly know exactly what the role entails.”

My knuckles tightened. We were backsliding into our old, bickering selves. Normally, I would’ve welcomed it as a sign of normality, but right now, it pissed me the hell off.

“Outside in five minutes, Red, or I’ll bend you over my lap and spank your ass raw right here in front of every goddamn king, queen, and president in the world,” I growled.

A dark pink flush rose on Jules’s cheeks. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Then don’t test me.”

I turned on my heel and stalked out of the ballroom.

Jules must’ve heard the truth in my threat because she met me outside the party exactly five minutes later, her jaw set in a stubborn line.

We walked down the hall until we reached an unlocked drawing room. I shut the door behind us, and then…silence.

We stared at each other, the air heavy with old hurts and unspoken words.

My irritation at seeing her with Asher slowly drained away, replaced with guilt and shame. I hadn’t known Jules was listening, but I still felt like an asshole for what I said.

“What do you want to talk about?” Jules asked, her tone as stiff as her shoulders.

“I want to…” I hesitated, wishing I had something more sufficient than words. “Apologize.”

Once upon a time, delivering an apology to Jules Ambrose would’ve been as painful as cutting out my own tongue. Now, the words tumbled out with relative ease.

I understood why Jules was upset. She was right. I’d been an asshole.

I should’ve apologized the other night, but I’d been so taken aback by the revelation I couldn’t think of a proper response. Not only to what happened with Ava, but to her follow-up questions.

That was what I should’ve said, had I not been too blind to see it and too chickenshit to say it.

Ours started as a sex-only arrangement, but it’d never been about just sex. Even when I thought I hated her, I was already softening toward her. Every smile, every laugh, and every conversation chipped away at the image I’d constructed of her in my mind until I was left with someone I didn’t know but couldn’t bear to let go of.

“You already apologized,” she said.

“No, I didn’t.” I took another step toward her. “I’m sorry for asking Ava to end her friendship with you. It was fucked up.”

Jules looked away. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not. Even if I didn’t mean for you to hear it, you did. I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. A tear cascaded down her cheek, glinting silver in the moonlight, and something in my chest cracked. “Once upon a time, you would’ve never apologized.”

“Once upon a time, I was a dickhead.”

“Who says you still aren’t?”

A small smile curved my lips, but it disappeared when Jules spoke again.

“What are we doing, Josh? This is supposed to be just sex.”

That was what I kept telling myself, too. But I was damn tired of pretending our arrangement hadn’t evolved into something that couldn’t be constrained by rules, and the thought that Jules believed I was using her for just sex, even if she’d consented to it, made my heart twist into a brutal knot.

I didn’t have a problem with no strings attached sex. Hell, that was all I’d indulged in since I started sex. But with Jules, it felt wrong, like a custom-made suit that still didn’t fit right.

“There’s a difference between what something is supposed to be and what it actually is, Red.”

There it was. An admission thinly disguised as ambiguity.

It lingered in the air, which fell so silent I could hear the increased tempo of Jules’s breath and every tick of the grandfather clock in the corner.

I didn’t know when I stopped hating Jules and started craving her. All I knew was that I did, and I never wanted to go back.

“Maybe there shouldn’t be.”

I stilled. “What,” I said, my calm voice belying the sudden storm surging through my veins, “is that supposed to mean?”

Jules lifted her chin, but I detected a tiny tremble in her voice. “It means we should date other people. Our arrangement is non-exclusive. It’s time we take advantage of that clause.”

A dark, ugly beast reared its head and snarled in my chest. “The we will.”

Who the fuck could she possibly want to date, anyway? Asher Donovan? The fucker was a notorious womanizer, and he didn’t even live in D.C.

“Those were the rules,” Jules pointed out.

“Rules change.”

“No.” She inched back, a hint of panic creeping into her eyes. “Not with us.”

“You’ve never had an issue bending the rules before.”

I stepped toward her; she stepped back. A simple, ceaseless dance that ended until her back was pressed against the wall and less than an inch separated her mouth from mine.

“What are you so afraid of, Red?” My breath ghosted across her skin.

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Bullshit.”

“This was supposed to be simple.”

“It’s not.”

There’d never been anything about her.

Jules was the most complicated, fascinating person I’d ever met.

She closed her eyes. “What do you want from me?” she asked, sounding resigned.

Another tear slipped down her cheek. I wiped it away with my thumb, fierce protectiveness rising inside me.

I didn’t know what I wanted from her, but I knew I wanted I knew she haunted my thoughts and invaded my dreams until she was the only thing I could see. And I knew that being with her was one of the few times I truly felt alive.

“I want you.” I didn’t need to dress the truth up win flowery language; it was powerful enough on its own. “We’re not dating other people, Red. I don’t give a fuck what the original terms of our arrangement were. Do you want to know why?”

A hard swallow disrupted the delicate lines of her throat. “Why?”

I lowered my head and wound my hand through her hair, pulling her even closer to me.

“Because you’re mine,” I said against her mouth. “Let another man touch you, Jules, and you’ll find out just how easily I can take a man’s life as I can save one.”