“I told you,” she laughed at him.
When he sat down, smiling in front of her, her stomach did a somersault from happiness. She was certain she was supposed to like it, but it scared her instead. Lake didn’t want to like him; he was crazy and a terrible person. Right? She had never thought she would say it, but she actually preferred the evil Vincent. When he was evil, she didn’t want to freaking kiss him.
“Why are you being so nice?” It might have come out harsher than she intended.
“So you get mad at me for being mean, and now that I’m nice, you don’t like it?” he snapped at her.
Nope, nope. I like the nice one better. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I’m just not used to it.” She felt bad for saying it. “Thank you for making me the food.”
“You’re welcome.”
She was thankful the nice one had come back.
She was shocked when she actually ate all her food, unaware of the last time she had eaten a full meal and enjoyed every bite. Then again, her body was practically starved. At that point, anything besides John’s Chinese food would have tasted good.
When Lake drank the last bit of her water, Vincent put her dishes in the sink. “Good. Now we can fucking talk.”
Oh, God. She knew Nice Vincent was finally over. Nothing pretty was going to come out of the conversation he wanted to have.
“Why didn’t we talk while I ate, at least? That way, you could’ve left me alone already.”
Vincent flexed his jaw. “Because you don’t eat when you’re upset, and you would have only eaten a few bites. Do you even remember the last time you sat down for a fucking meal you actually ate?”
Shit, someone just save me…
Chapter Thirty-Five
You Don’t Have To Worry; I Wouldn’t Fuck You In Your Dad’s House
…from this psychopath.
“I just ate, didn’t I?”
Vincent shook his head. “You wouldn’t have if I didn’t make you.”
Lake bobbed her head back at him.
He was about to lose his mind. “Why does everything have to be so hard with you? In one day”—he holds one finger up—“I find out about you working for Dante by me having to watch you fucking work down there.” Another finger goes up. “The numerous times you have almost gotten yourself killed in the span of a week.” Another finger. “Then to top the whole damn thing off, I go to your mom’s to find out she’s a piece of shit who’s letting an even bigger piece of shit hurt you. So, if you don’t fucking mind, could you please just put yourself in my shoes at the moment and quit being so damn difficult?”
She took a deep breath, realizing he was a little right. “He never hurt me.”
“What?”
Lake had to avert her eyes down to the table while she talked. “He never hurt me, because he was too scared to. He knew he would have crossed a line if he touched me. If a mark was left, then my dad would have killed him.”
“Lake, you can hurt people without laying a hand on them. Don’t sit there and tell me he never hurt you.” He kept his voice between calm and strong. “What did he do to you?”
There’s no out.
Picking at the paint on the table, she bit her lip. She really didn’t want to tell him, but she was sure he pretty much had everything figured out and only wanted to hear it from her.
“Ever since he met me, I knew he didn’t like me. He would always ignore me or give me dirty looks behind my mom’s back, so I started to spend more days with my dad and less with my mom. I remember her being depressed and crying before she met him, and she finally seemed really happy, so I was happy. I didn’t think it was important if John liked me or not because I only had to see him on the weekends, and he had mostly ignored me till one day my mom went out.
“It was as if he had waited for that day. Finally, he was free to call me what he wanted and make me do what he wanted. He would send her out to do something more and more while I stayed there to clean, cook, and wait on him hand and foot. I did everything he ordered and never said anything to my father because John told me if I did, Dad would not only kill him and Ashley, but my mom, too. I was young and terrified enough to listen to him yet old enough to understand what my dad did for a living. The more I cleaned and heard him call me names, the more I knew John was right; he would kill them.”
Vincent flexed his jaw. “How has your dad not figured it out? You’re telling me he doesn’t know?”
“No, never.” She looked at him like he was crazy.
“How am I supposed to believe that, Lake?”