He Rolled a Die to Choose Between Us

"Get in that car. I dare you!"

Lucas's eyes were bloodshot, and he lunged toward the flashy red sports car parked outside the gate like a wild animal gone mad.

I shoved his reaching hand aside without hesitation and slid into the passenger seat.

The window rolled down slowly.

Cold wind flooded the car, scattering the nauseating smell of bone broth that clung to Lucas.

"Brenna, have you lost your mind?" He gripped the edge of the window so hard his knuckles turned white.

That face, always so arrogant, always above everyone else, was now twisted with disbelief and panic.

"I get up at five every morning to buy you the best ingredients. I burned every last thing that belonged to Mara. I even got on my knees and begged!"

His voice was raw, his eyes webbed with red veins.

"What more do you want from me? You won't be satisfied until I'm dead, is that it?"

Looking at this self-serving display of devotion, I found it utterly absurd.

"Lucas, do you really think cooking me a few meals should move me to tears?"

I leaned back against the leather seat, my voice so calm it surprised even me. "When I was on the operating table bleeding out, where were you?"

Lucas's entire body went rigid. His lips began to tremble violently.

I continued, "Thirty-seven calls. You didn't pick up a single one. And when you finally did, you told me the die landed on six, that Mara had a flat tire and she was scared, that she needed you more."

I stared straight into his eyes, tearing away that mask of false remorse, word by word.

"No... Brenna, I didn't know it was that serious..." Lucas shook his head frantically, tears splashing onto the car window.

"You didn't know?" I let out a cold laugh and pulled the brass die he'd used for three years out of my pocket.

It hit him square on the bridge of his nose with a sharp crack, then bounced to the ground at his feet. The face pointing up was a glaring six.

"Three years with a loaded die, and it came up six every single time. Pretty handy, wasn't it?" I looked at him with ice in my eyes as his world crumbled. "You made me sick for three years. Now it's your turn."

I pointed at the number on the ground. "Even numbers go to Elliot. Your rule. Own it."

"I don't accept this! What kind of bullshit rule is that!"

Lucas lost it completely. He clawed at the car door handle like a madman. "Get out of this car! You're Mrs. Grant. How can you run off with some boy toy from a nightclub!"

A hand with long, defined fingers reached past me and settled on the steering wheel.

Elliot leaned forward slightly, his strikingly handsome face appearing at the window. "Mr. Grant, watch your mouth."

A devilish grin played at the corner of his lips, but his eyes were cold as ice.

"Brenna's the one paying my bills now. Keep screaming like that and you'll scare her."

"Who the hell do you think you are! You think you can take my wife!" Lucas jabbed a finger at Elliot's face, spitting curses.

Elliot didn't spare his tantrum a single glance. He turned to me instead, his voice melting into something sweet and sticky.

"Brenna, it's so loud out here. Let's go. I already warmed up the hotel bed for us."

Those words sank into Lucas like a poisoned barb, hitting him right where it hurt most.

His eyes went crimson. He raised his fist, ready to smash the window.

"Drive." I stared straight ahead, done talking.

The engine let out a roar like a beast unleashed.

The sports car shot forward like an arrow.

In the rearview mirror, Lucas stumbled after us for two steps before crashing to his knees on the frozen, snow-covered ground.