Ruin & Rule (Pure Corruption MC #1)(18)
Author: Pepper Winters

His chest rose as deep-seated attraction and animalistic control entered his eyes.

I wanted to be alone with him. I needed to be alone with him.

He snatched his fingers from mine, smashing through the tender bridge we’d built.

“Take the damn money.” His face whitened, the cuts from last night standing out brightly.

Money?

I struggled to remember what we were talking about.

Swallowing hard, I murmured, “If I take it, I’ll pay you back.”

I didn’t want to owe him—no matter that it was just a simple thing, I had no intention of being in his debt.

He smiled, half cold, half full of pity. “Of course, you will. You’ll pay me back when I sell you.” Glancing around the store, he towered over me, dropping his voice to a whisper, “Your body will pay me back a thousandfold. Your obedience will pay me back for the small investment I’m making into your appearance.”

My heart shattered.

My stomach dropped.

All softness and attraction disappeared.

Sell me.

He’d been deliberately cruel to remind me. Not that I’d forgotten, but I’d hoped that time would grant me mercy—that it would…

What? Make him fall in love with you?

I lowered my head, all happiness at being with him dissolving.

Then anger shot through my veins, granting terrible recklessness. I scrunched up the money and threw it in his face. He jolted in shock as the bills fluttered down his legs, landing on the grey carpet.

His expression locked into that of sheer anger, hands balling by his side. “Pick. That. Up.”

I stood my ground. “I’m not buying clothes just so you can parade me around and get a better price for your investment.” I hated the wobble in my voice—the pain of knowing he only kept me around because he’d ended up with six girls instead of five. I was collateral. A bonus.

I didn’t want to be there anymore. I wanted to be somewhere quiet, so I could figure out the mess that was my life.

Heaviness settled over my shoulders. “You truly don’t know me—do you?”

He tensed, looking around the store again as if people were eavesdropping on priceless information. “I told you the truth.”

“You’ve never seen me before?”

A flicker of something crossed his face. I pounced on it.

“Last night, when you took my blindfold off—you recognized me. Tell me that wasn’t in my head.”

He gritted his jaw. “I don’t have to tell you a damn thing.”

“Please!” I said, louder than I’d planned. “Please… why did you look at me as if I were…”

A lover you’d lost and found.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, his shoulders bunched. “You really want to know? You’re seriously going to push me—here—in a fucking department store?”

My heartbeat thrummed as I tasted the truth. “Yes. I really want to know—more than anything.”

His entire demeanor shadowed, looking as if he’d stepped out of darkness itself. “You remind me of her. Every time I look at you, I see her. You stab me in the fucking heart every time you look at me with her eyes. My gut twists every time the sun catches her red hair. But it’s a lie. You aren’t her. You could never be her.”

Finally. Truth.

My body trembled in my rush to uncover more. “But I could—don’t you see? What if I am? I’m drawn to you, Arthur. I’m—”

“Don’t use my name.” His face went black. “And you can’t be her. It’s impossible.”

“Why? Tell me why!”

His control snapped and he thundered, “Because she’s dead. Okay? I’ve stood over her tombstone. I’ve read the death report. You. Aren’t. Her. You’re just a horrible fucking reminder of what I’ve lost.”

He ruined me, not with his distraught voice or the agony in his eyes, but with sharp brutal reality. Here was a man drowning for a woman he’d loved so fiercely only for her to die.

He was in love with a ghost.

I wrapped my arms around my chest, holding my bleeding heart together. What could I say?

I’m sorry I look like her?

I’m not sorry I look like her?

I’m sorry she’s dead?

Let me try and take her place?

Nothing would work when I’d successfully stripped away his darkest secret, the one he held so close and guarded.

“How? How did she die?”

His eyes flared wide. “I’m not telling you shit. You aren’t her. You will never be her. You talk differently. You’re burned and tattooed where she was pure, and when I truly look at you, you’re lacking.”

The word destroyed my heart.

“Lacking…” My head hung heavy and dejected.

He sucked in a breath, his booted feet shifting in place as if he wanted to disappear. “I told you not to push me.”

I nodded. Ignorance… I suddenly wanted it back.

We stood there, breathing harsh, not caring about the milling women and their carts full of items. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Kill ducked and collected the crumpled money. Standing, he muttered, “Go. Try some shit on. I’ll wait for you.”

I swallowed, then shook my head. “I—I’m not in the mood. You choose. I just want to leave.”

He laughed; it was full of anger. “Me? Choose women’s fashion?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, no fucking way. Not going to happen.”

“Then I guess I’ll stay in your clothes until you get rid of me.”

Just let me go home.

I needed peace and quiet and a mirror. I craved a reflection to look into my eyes and see what was so lacking for him to despise me.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Kill stole my wrist and hauled me past racks and hangers, straight toward the changing rooms.

What the hell—?

People looked up from browsing, their mouths popping wide. But no one stopped us. No one intervened. Kill was right about people staying away—even if they knew something bad was going on beneath their noses.

The second we entered a changing room, he slammed the door, locked it, then shoved me against the wall. His fingers dug into my throat. “Let’s get a few things straight, shall we?” His scent of ocean winds and leather drugged me. “Never stand up to me in public. Never think you can order me around. Never think I will give a shit about you.”

He breathed hard, sweat beading on his brow. “And never pretend I’m anything more than what I am. A man who had every inch of softness inside gutted the day they threw me in prison. The day she died. I’m not the man you think I am, sweetheart. Don’t ever forget it.”

Prison?

My legs gave out; my hands gripped around Kill’s wrist. “Please let me go,” I gasped. “I can’t breathe.”

His eyes narrowed, his fingers squeezing tighter. “Oh, and one other thing, never ask me about her again. I won’t be so nice next time you meddle in my past.”

He let go.

I bent over, sucking in huge lungfuls of air.

He backed up, pressing himself against the wall of the changing room. The small box was claustrophobic, with a bench, a chair, and a full-length mirror on the back of the door.

A mirror!

I latched onto the reflection like it would dispel all my problems.

I couldn’t move as I drank in the features of the woman my soul dwelled within.

My eyes: they were green and large and luminous.

My cheekbones: they were apple-shaped and flushed.

My lips: they were full and wet and naturally pink.

My figure: feminine with muscle definition and strength.

My hair: cascaded over my shoulders in a riot of cherry and burned orange.

I was pretty…

I leaned forward, touching the delicate skin beneath my eyes. No wrinkles apart from a few signs of maturity. I’d say I was midtwenties.

“Recognize yourself?” Arthur never took his eyes off me, his leather jacket creaking softly as he crossed his arms.

I shook my head, my red hair rippling over my shoulders—the stranger in the mirror copied me move for move. “No,” I whispered. “No, I don’t.”

And it hurt so damn much to see myself but feel no love, no history—nothing but smoldering anger for a brain so damaged it blocked everything out. Who was the girl in the mirror and why did I hate her?

Because she’s lacking.

A knock on the door startled both of us. “Um, excuse me. Only one person at a time in the changing room, please,” the voice of a prissy attendant sailed through the cheap veneer.

Kill snapped into action. Shoving me to one side, he wrenched open the door, and tossed a hundred-dollar bill at the woman with oversprayed blonde hair. “Forget the rules. Go and get whatever is the latest style for a girl her size.” He opened the door wider, pointing at me as if I were fungus growing on the wall.

Bastard.

Arrogant, egotistical bastard.

I should’ve run when I had the chance. I should’ve run from the parking lot at Florida State. Next time, I would run and never look back.

But I didn’t and I won’t. Because I’m an idiot who craves answers over life span.

The girl narrowed her gaze at my figure. “What cup size are you?” she asked, eyeing my chest.