I approached her, done with her one-track mind and everything being either black or white with her. “I was his friend. I always stood by his side, and he’s done nothing but try to hurt us. He’s a threat.”

I spun back around and charged farther into the penthouse, making my way down one of the short hallways.

I darted into bedrooms, taking in a little dust, some ruffled bed sheets, and a dank smell, probably from the place being closed up for however long.

Stepping into one room, a balcony visible through the double doors, I immediately spotted an ash tray on a dresser and walked over to inspect it.

I picked up one of Damon’s black cigarette butts in a sea of white ones and brought it to my nose. The earthy and spicy scent had the same overpowering sweetness I remembered.

I dropped it back in the ashtray, noticing all the white Davidoffs, too. Both of his brands.

Gazing around the bedroom, I took in the mussed sheets with the pillows at the foot of the bed, the bottles of Corona in the trash, and the floor littered with the foil wrappings from inside his cigarette boxes that Damon had a serial killer obsession with folding into tiny parcels until they couldn’t be folded anymore.

“He may not be here now, but he was,” I said, turning around to face her.

She held my gaze, remaining silent.

“Where is he now?” I asked, walking toward her.

“I don’t know.”

I cocked my head, repeating my question. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

Another step toward her. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

I backed her into the wall, heat filling my glare “He’s very possessive of you, isn’t he?”

She folded her full lips between her teeth, and there were so many things I didn’t yet understand—why Damon was so attached to her, why she was so loyal to him, and I didn’t have the slightest idea who the fuck she really was, but one thing I knew for sure. I could mess with Gabriel, I could dangle Rika like a worm on a hook, but this girl, right here, was the one person to drive Damon insane.

She was his weakness.

“Perhaps I don’t need to look for him, after all,” I told her. “I have you, and he’ll come to me, won’t he? With the right motivation.”

Her eyes snapped up to mine, and I caught a flinch of worry before she hid it.

But that one flinch was everything. It was a crack—one of the only ones I’d seen—in her hard, cold exterior.

And for a moment I forgot all about Damon Torrance.

“Ask me not to hurt him,” I said, my voice cracking unexpectedly.

But she just stared at me, her gaze faltering only slightly.

I inched closer, feeling her body’s heat. “Did it ever occur to you that all you would have to do is ask?”

I needed Damon, so I could get the location of the goddamn body out of him before he decided to use it against me, but I didn’t have to hurt him. That was up to him. And maybe her.

She searched my eyes, the endless abyss of her green ones starting to glisten. Her chin trembled, and she shook her head slowly, at war with herself.

“You can’t, can you? You won’t ask me for anything.”

She dropped her eyes, her chest caving.

“Do you love him?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Her head was still down as she whispered, but I heard the quick reply well enough.

“Yes,” she repeated, nodding. “I love him so much. More than I’ll ever love anyone.” Her teary eyes rose and met mine again. “I can control him. If I can find him. Just give me a chance.”

But I barely heard the last part.

Yes.

I love him so much.

More than I’ll ever love anyone.

She did open her heart, it seemed, but it was only for him.

I straightened, a frost setting in.

“Are you crying?” I asked. “For him?”

She wouldn’t say the words, she wouldn’t beg me, but it was in her eyes. She was just as much his now as she was back then.

“Fine,” I said, leaning in and taunting her. “Cry for him then and beg me. Beg me to leave him alone, and I will.”

Her jaw flexed, and the blush of anger crossed her face.

“You have a chance to save his life, Banks. All you have to do is beg me. Come on. I want to see it. How far will you go for him?” I bared my teeth, seething. “Beg!”

She cried out, her gloved hand coming across my face.

My head snapped to the side, and the burn of the slap spread to my lips.

My heart fucking leaped.

Again.

“Fuck, you’re pathetic.” I smiled cockily as I turned to face her gain. “His little lap dog, aren’t you? If you’re good, does he allow you the privilege of licking his cock clean after he’s fucked a real woman?”

“Ugh!” She growled, slapping me across the same cheek again.

My neck ached with the sudden blow this time, and I sucked in a breath, absorbing the pain. She was strong.

I dipped my tongue to the corner of my lips, tasting the metallic cut where my teeth had torn the skin.

“You’ll never be more than what you are now.” I dove in, slamming my hands on the wall behind her, bringing us nose to nose. “Something for men to use. That’s all you are. And in fifty years you’ll end up alone never knowing what this feels like.”

I ran my thumb over the drop of blood at the corner of my mouth and wiped it on her cheek.

She snarled, knocking my hand away, but I was fucking high, and I didn’t know if I was pissed off, turned on, or desperate for this confrontation, but I dived in and lost control. My body did the thinking.

I grabbed the back of her neck in one hand and her ass in the other and plastered her body to mine.

“What this feels like,” growled over her lips, pressing my dick—hard and already desperate for her—into her groin.

She whimpered and her body instantly stiffened like she was frightened, but she grabbed my shoulders anyway, her fingers digging into my skin through my shirt.

“And what this feels like,” I whispered, slipping my hand down the back of her jeans and squeezing a handful of her smooth, soft ass in my hand.

She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut, but I didn’t miss the way she moved her leg to the outside of mine, opening up her thighs a little more for me and rolling her hips.

I didn’t know if she meant to do it, or maybe she was just like me. Just letting it take us over.

“I’m not begging you for shit,” she said, a tear spilling down her cheek.

“Fuck Damon.” I slammed her back into the wall, lifting her up and grinding my dick between her legs. “This is you and me.”

She panted as she locked her legs around my body. The small streak of blood on her cheek started to glow with her sweat, and I didn’t stop touching her or let up, because if I gave her a second to think, she’d stop this.

“I liked you,” I whispered. “I still remember how good those stolen moments with you felt.”

Out of all the women, my mind always found her.

And I couldn’t wait for more. I snatched up her lips, silencing all of our words and worries and baggage and shit and kissed her, dipping my tongue inside and tasting her like she was my fucking meal.

Cold girl—hard girl—why was I obsessed? Why was I jealous that she’d probably given how many other men in that house a piece of her but would barely spare me a one-word sentence?

Fuck her. She wanted me. I didn’t care about the bullshit that came out of her mouth. We weren’t teenagers anymore, and I wasn’t the good guy. She was going to do for me what she did for Damon or David or whoever the fuck else came in and out of the Torrance’s and she was going to know that I was just as ruthless. She underestimated me, but she won’t forget this. That I owned a piece of her just like they did.

I ripped open her jacket and yanked it down her arms. “Take off your shirt.”

I dropped her to her feet, her hat sliding off her head and letting her hair fall free as I pulled my pullover and T-shirt over my head and let them fall to the floor.

She paused, holding up her arms and covering her still-clothed body. “I—”