“Have her,” Miles snapped, sounding like she wasn’t a she but an it. A toy, a plaything, something you could blithely toss around and throw away.
“We’ll talk later,” James said in a way it was clear anyone in their right mind wouldn’t want to be present at that particular chat and Miles’s ugly expression turned uglier.
“No, Jack, we won’t. Fuck that,” Miles clipped.
“We’re going to have words,” James demanded.
“We’re done talking,” Miles retorted.
“What’s going on?” Joy asked, her concerned voice coming from the door and Belle had had enough.
She yanked out of James’s arms and ran to her bag.
There was stuff in the bathroom but she didn’t care. She’d buy more. She was leaving, immediately, even if she had to walk halfway to town to meet the taxi.
She started to zip her bag but felt the hot touch of James’s hand at the small of her back.
“What’s going on?” Joy repeated in a motherly demand at the exact same moment James murmured, “Poppet.”
At that word, Belle zipped her bag with a sharp movement and whirled around, dislodging his hand, her eyes shooting up to lock on his.
“Don’t touch me,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears.
His hand came up and toward her face as he said gently, “Belle.”
She lifted her own hand, knocking his aside. It registered somewhere that her action made his body jerk and his brows drew together.
“I said, don’t touch me,” she repeated and turned away. Grabbing her suitcase by the handles, she moved to get her purse. “I never want to see you again.” She turned, her gaze sweeping the room to see Miles was still there, Joy was at the door and Yasmin had joined her.
The women looked pale, Miles looked furious, James looked concerned.
All of them were watching her.
“Any of you,” Belle declared then grabbed her purse, hitched it on her shoulder and started to march to the door but James brought her up short with a hand at her wrist.
She stopped and looked up at him.
“Poppet –” he started and at his repeated endearment, something fundamental inside her that was holding together by a miracle broke apart.
“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, the tears clearing from her voice and eyes. “Don’t you dare. You wanted a crack at me?” she asked and James flinched, his eyes shot to his brother in what Belle read as guilt causing her heart to flutter in an altogether too painful way before they came back to her on her next words. “You got it. Three of them if I’m counting right. You won, James,” she told him and his eyes narrowed when she used his real name. “You can stop playing the game. Just note your hash mark on the board, move onto your next victim and leave me alone.”
She yanked from his hold and started to walk away but he caught her by the wrist again.
“Belle, listen to me –” he began when her eyes moved to his.
“No, I listened to you last night when you told me I could trust you,” Belle shot back. “You lied. I’m not listening to you again.”
James’s face changed. It took on a look of frustrated but controlled anger and he used his hand to bring her closer as he looked to the door.
“Get out and close the door behind you,” he ordered.
“Don’t bother,” Belle said immediately to the women who hesitated at the door. “I’m leaving.”
“Belle, we’re talking,” James told her.
That something that was broken inside her started cutting deep, the jagged ends tearing at her insides. The pain was immense and she couldn’t hold on much longer.
“Take your hand off me,” she demanded.
“Belle, we’re talking,” James repeated.
Belle leaned in, overcome by hurt and humiliation, she screeched into his face. “I said, take your hand off me!”
Then, with force, she pulled free and started running.
He caught her just feet from the door with an arm around her waist. Joy and Yasmin had begun to move aside but stopped when he swung her around.
“Get out and close the goddamned door,” James clipped harshly.
Belle twisted around in his arm to look at Joy. “Don’t close that door!”
“Belle, darling…” Joy started but Belle didn’t listen. She’d dropped her suitcase somewhere along the line and was struggling in earnest to break free of James’s arm that was held tight around her waist.
“Go and close the fucking door!” James shouted and Belle heard everyone move around her, including Miles. Someone closed the door but she was still pushing against his arm with her hands and her weight.
Once the door closed, James used his arm to shake her gently.
“Calm down,” he ordered, his mouth at her ear, the heat of his body pressed against her back.
“Let me go,” she demanded.
“Belle, I don’t know what Miles said to you –”
“Miles didn’t say much of anything except he called me a fucking whore,” Belle snapped, gained an inch but only so James could turn her to face him then both his arms locked around her. She stopped struggling, looked up at him and added, “Twice.”
“That’s unfortunate, love, but –” he began but she cut in.
“Unfortunate? You call that unfortunate? I’ve never been called a whore in my life!” she screamed.
“Belle –” he started again but she kept talking.
“And I deserved it. He was right. I know it, you know it. That’s exactly how I acted.”
He gave her another gentle shake as she watched his face grow hard. “Don’t say that.”
She changed themes and accused, “You said you’d take care of everything.”
“It wasn’t me who wanted you to go to your room,” he shot back.
He was right.
So right.
She was such an idiot.
Then again, if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have known who he was. He would have kept using her and lying to her to rub his brother’s nose in it.
Until he lost interest.
And she would have loved every second of it.
Until he broke her heart.
“You’re right,” she told him. “It’s my fault.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She was losing the will to fight so again she switched themes.
“Let me go,” she demanded.
That earned her another gentle shake. “I’m not letting you go.”
“Let me go!” she shouted.
“You have to give me the chance to explain.”
“I don’t have to do anything, James,” she retorted.
At the sound of his name, his arms tightened and she knew he was getting angry with her.
“Stop calling me that,” he warned.
“Okay, I will. Gladly. I’ll stop calling you anything,” she returned.
“Cut the crap, poppet, you know, between us, it’s bullshit.”
She was right, he was angry with her, she could tell.
And for some reason, she didn’t care.
And furthermore, she didn’t know anything.
Except there was no “us”. There was a one night stand, something else she’d never done in her life and something else that caused her extreme humiliation.
“I don’t know anything of the sort except you and Miles take sibling rivalry to unprecedented extremes and I got caught in the middle.”
“That isn’t fucking true,” he snapped.
“No? So you’re saying me and my winning personality knocked you clean off your feet?” she asked sarcastically.
His eyes narrowed even as he admitted, “Something like that.”
She felt anger tear through her at his lie and got up on tiptoe to hiss, “You are so full of it.”