The Billionaire's Bargain. Naima Simone

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СКАЧАТЬ her... Hated her... As the words—and the throbbing pain of them—sank into her brain, her paralysis shattered. She scrambled off him, uncaring of how clumsy her backward crab-walk appeared. She just needed to be away from him. From the shock that quickly bled from his gaze and blazed into rage and disgust.

      God, no. How could she have kissed...touched... Let him...

       You’re fucking him, aren’t you? Admit it, goddamn you. Admit it! You’re fucking my best friend! You whore!

      The memory of Gage’s scream ricocheted off the walls of her skull, gaining volume and power by the second. Darius hadn’t been the first man he’d thought she’d been cheating with—not even the third or fifth. But she’d never seen him as enraged, as out-of-control at the thought of her being with this man. Gage had never physically abused her during their marriage, but that night... That night she’d truly been afraid he would hit her.

      Afterward she’d made a conscious effort to not look at Darius, not be alone in the same room with him if she couldn’t avoid him altogether. Even after he’d married an iceberg of a woman, she’d maintained her distance.

      And now, not only had she laughed and talked with him, but she had allowed him inside her body. She’d allowed him to bring her the most soul-shattering pleasure.

      Meeting his stare, she could read the condemnation there. The confirmation that she was indeed the whore Gage had called her.

      Humiliation, hurt and fury—at him and herself—barreled through her, propelling her to her feet. Snatching up her purse and shoes, she clutched them to her chest.

      “Isobel.” The voice that had caressed her ears with its deep, melodious tone, that had stirred desire with explicit words, now caused ice to coat her veins. Gage used to take great delight in telling her how much his friend disliked her. Though she now knew when her husband’s lips were moving, he was lying, hearing Darius’s frigid disdain directed at her, meeting his derisive gaze... She believed it now, just as she had then.

      “I-I...” She dragged in a breath, shaking her head as she backpedaled. “I need to go. I’m sorry,” she rasped.

      Hating that she’d apologized, that she sounded scared and...broken, she whirled around and damn near sprinted down the thankfully empty hallway, not feeling the cold marble under her feet. Or the stone as she escaped the mansion. None of the valets from the night before appeared, but she’d glimpsed the direction in which they’d driven off and followed that path.

      Twenty minutes later, with keys snatched from the valet stand and car successfully located, she exited onto the freeway. Though with every mile she steadily placed between her and the mansion—and Darius—she couldn’t shake the feeling of being pursued.

      Couldn’t shake the sense that she could run, but couldn’t hide.

      But that damn sure wouldn’t stop her from trying.

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