Slowly, he turned back. His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, his gaze lethal.
"Layla Sullivan. You dare hit me?"
I was panting, tears burning in my eyes.
"You can insult me all you want, Anthony. But don't you dare insult William. And don't you dare insult someone who actually helped me."
This was the first time I'd fought back since we reunited.
That slap shattered the last pretense of civility between us.
He laughed suddenly—a sound that sent ice down my spine.
"Fine. Very fine. Since you've got so much backbone, let's see just how hard those bones really are."
Anthony's revenge came fast.
That night, he took me to a private gathering.
Unlike the formal business banquets, this crowd ran wilder. The games were dirtier.
A grand piano dominated the center of the hall, and beside it sat a violin that probably cost more than most people's cars.
Audrey perched at the piano bench, all doe eyes and dimples.
"Layla, I heard you used to be concertmaster. Since everyone's here tonight—why don't we play a duet?"
Anthony lounged in the seat of honor, swirling his wine, his gaze lazy and mocking.
"Play. If you're any good, I'll let last night's slap slide."
Not a request. An order.