She’s (Still) Too Young (She’s Too Young #2)(18)

Icy cold begins at the top of my head and crackles down until it reaches my toes. I'm not even certain my blood is flowing any more. What reason would it have to flow if there's no heart to keep pumping? Because mine is dead, dormant in my chest. "She's … been stealing money from me."

"Ramsey," Veda sobs from the doorway, but I can't turn to look at her. My neck won't move. "It's not how it sounds."

"How much?" I ask the room in general. It's such a pointless question, because if it had been a substantial amount, my accountants would have caught it. Moreover, it could be twenty dollars or twenty billion and I would still feel like death in the face of betrayal. Of course she came back to me for the money. Did I really believe she could love someone as soulless as me? A man whose own mother could barely stand to look at him, he turned out to be such a ruthless bastard?

A carbon copy of his father.

Jack snorts. "How much? A drop in the bucket to someone like you."

"Dad!" she screams. "No more. That's enough."

He points the tip of the knife across the room toward Veda. "We took just enough that when she leaves your ass, she'll be set for life. And I don't have to be on your payroll anymore."

I'm crumbling. Handing over your love to someone is a serious fucking thing, I realize too late. She has handed it back to me riddled with stab wounds. Finally, I turn to look at her in the doorway, which is a mistake. The morning sun has finally started to filter in through the windows, highlighting every glowing inch of her. Her bed-tousled hair, her long, lithe legs, the outline of her body beneath the black silk nightgown I bought for her. There is a wealth of regret and sadness and fear swimming in her expression, so I already have my answer when I ask, "Is it true?"

"Yes. But I stopped. I stopped." She mashes her fingers to her lips. "After I left … I missed you so much, Ramsey, but I was mad. So mad that you'd made so many decisions for my life without telling me or caring if they would hurt me."

"I'm sorry," I say, sounding numb to my own ears. "I must have hurt you worse than I imagined for you to do something like this. I would have given you as much money as you needed. Even if you'd left."

The pitiful sound that comes out of her turns a spiked wrench in my gut. "You're not letting me finish." She swipes a hand beneath her nose, her expression pleading. "I told myself I was only going back for the money, but I was lying to myself. It was you. I love you, Ramsey. Even before I left. And as soon as I realized I didn't care about the money, I refused to do it anymore, no matter how much … pressure there was to keep going."



       
         
       
        

This is what Jack had on her. Why she was so nervous about coming to see him, being around him. The son of a bitch.

"You should have come to me." My voice churns like gravel, along with my bones. "You should have told me what was going on."

"I know. I'm so sorry." Tears slide down her cheeks. "Please just tell me you believe me. Tell me you'll take me home."

Take her home? Does she not realize that's a given by now, whether I believe her or not? She's mine. I'm keeping her, no matter what she has done. Or how she has betrayed me.

"Veda, I can't let you do this," Jack grates. "We had a plan. I won't let my daughter attach herself to some asshole who takes whatever he wants and damn the consequences for anyone else."

"Well, I'm eighteen, and that makes it my decision," Veda returns smoothly, and some part of me that's still alive swells with pride. "You haven't seen the good parts of him. There are so many, and I choose all of them. I choose him. And if I have to sell every gift he's given me until I pay him back-" Beloved blue eyes shoot wide, her attention swinging between me and Jack. "No. No."

Everything happens in a blur, but I move with precision, as if my body hasn't forgotten what it was expecting to happen, even while my heart lay in ruins.

Jack is charging me with the knife when I turn. My hand closes around the cool butt of my gun, where I've been keeping it at the small of my back. And I draw, knowing I have no choice but to fire on the love of my life's father, ending his life right in front of her. But before I can pull the trigger, Veda is there, throwing herself between Jack and me.

My bellow echoes in my head like a foghorn going off in a cave, but my physical inability to harm Veda has me dropping the gun on the chance a bullet could hit her. Jack's reflexes are not as sharp as mine after the night of drinking, however, and the knife arcs down … down … and I with utter horror, I watch the blade slice across Veda's raised forearm.