Chapter 113: Let me fucking go!

When I wake up the next morning, it feels like I’ve had the best sleep of my entire life.

Which, given how last night went, is only fair.

I stretch lazily beneath the covers, smiling to myself when I feel the pleasant soreness running through my body.

Oh, my God.

I bury my face in the pillow.

Lysander Sanchez.

That man is a menace. An arrogant, infuriating, ridiculously handsome menace.

Unfortunately, remembering how the night ended puts a damper on my good mood. I can still hear him calling me a whore, and the memory makes my smile disappear.

Asshole.

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.

Whatever.

I refuse to let that man ruin my morning. I have more important things to worry about, like the fact that someone tried to shoot me yesterday.

Right. That.

I need to call Cas and Oli later. They deserve to know what happened, especially since the person behind it is dangerous enough to go after the people I care about.

Later, though.

Right now, I’m starving.

My stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly, as if it wants to emphasize the urgency of the situation.

I throw the covers aside, take a quick shower, and get dressed before heading downstairs.

The moment I enter the kitchen, the smell of freshly prepared breakfast hits me.

Heaven...Absolute heaven.

Jeremiah is already sitting at the table, eating as though he has a personal mission to empty every dish in the house.

I pause at the entrance.

"Good morning."

When he doesn’t answer, I narrow my eyes at the back of his head.

Rude.

I walk past him and greet Linda, who is busy arranging a few things on the counter.

"Good morning, Linda."

"Good morning, child. Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby."

Her lips curve into a smile.

"That’s good. Sit down. Your breakfast is ready."

I settle into my seat, and a moment later, she places a plate in front of me.

"Thank you."

"You’re welcome, dear."

She pats my shoulder affectionately before returning to the counter.

I pick up my fork, ready to attack the food, when something suddenly occurs to me.

I haven’t seen Lucia in a while.

I glance toward Linda.

"By the way, where’s Lucia? I haven’t seen her around lately."

Linda looks up from what she’s doing.

"Oh, she’s been transferred to other duties."

I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth.

"Transferred?"

"Yes, dear."

"Oh."

I shrug and return my attention to my breakfast.

I have a new office to check on, phone calls to make, and an entire assassination attempt to process. I don’t have time to worry about staff arrangements.

"Eat your food, child," Linda says, patting my head as she passes behind me.

I smile at her.

"Yes, ma’am."

I take another bite, already planning how I’ll arrang my new work spacee.

Then a voice from across the table ruins everything.

"You know this is all your fault, right?"

I slowly raise my head to find Jeremiah staring at me.

I blink.

"What’s what?"

"This whole bullshit going on." He drops his fork onto his plate. "It’s all your fucking fault."

I stare at him for a moment, wondering if he’s serious.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jeremiah."

His expression darkens.

"Of course you don’t."

I set my fork down.

"Then perhaps you should explain."

"My brother’s life was going pretty fucking well until you showed up and ruined everything!"

I inhale slowly through my nose.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," I repeat, keeping my voice level.

"Don’t play dumb with me, Nerissa!"

He slams his palm against the table, making the cutlery jump.

"You made him get into this shit! He cut off a councilman’s son’s dick because of you. Now he’s killed a man in front of more than fifty guests! Fifty fucking witnesses, Nerissa! Do you have any idea what that means?"

His face is turning red.

"And all of this is because of YOU!"

I slowly place my napkin beside my plate.

"Now, I understand you’re pissed, Jeremiah, but you need to lower your voice when you speak to me."

He lets out a dark, disbelieving chuckle.

"You say what now?"

I tilt my head.

"I didn’t know you were hard of hearing, but I’ll humor you. You need to lower your voice when speaking to me. Or, better yet, keep your mouth shut entirely."

His eyes narrow.

"That’s funny coming from you, Nerissa."

I sigh.

"And why is that?"

"Because, from what I hear, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut around Accardo’s son years ago. Isn’t that why my brother had to cut off his dick? Because he felt sorry for you? Sorry for you fucking around."

My fingers curl against my palms.

I’ve endured whispers. I’ve endured humiliation. I’ve endured people looking at me as though what happened to me somehow made me less worthy of respect.

But I will never accept someone using my assault as an insult against me.

Never.

I lift my eyes to his.

"Jeremiah, I understand you’re angry, but you will not speak to me that way."

"Oh, shut it. I’ll speak to you like the fucking whore you are."

Oh.

It’s official, I’m going to kill one of the Sanchez brothers.

And considering Lysander isn’t here, Jeremiah will do just fine.

I move before I can think better of it. One second, I’m sitting in my chair, the next, I’m on top of the dining table, gripping my plate.

Jeremiah’s eyes widen.

"Wh...."

I smash the plate straight into his face....food flies everywhere as the plate breaks against him, sending pieces scattering across the table and onto the floor.

I stare down at him, breathing hard.

When he slowly raises his head, bloood trickles from a clean cut along his cheek.

My lips curl into a smile.

"Oops."

His expression turns murderous when I grab another plate.

"Come here, you little....."

I bring it down against his head before he can finish. The plate cracks, and I jump backward, narrowly avoiding his flailing arm.

"YOU CRAZY WOMAN!"

"AND YOU’RE A DISRESPECTFUL ASSHOLE!"

I swing my leg toward his shin, aiming to give him another reason to remember this morning. Unfortunately, Jeremiah is faster than he looks.

He catches my ankle and pulls. My feet slide off the table, and I land squarely on my ass with a painful thud.

"FUCK!"

Pain shoots up my backside.

I wince, pressing a hand against the table to steady myself.

Jeremiah stands over me, breathing hard, a hand pressed to the cut on his cheek.

"Thank whatever God you serve that I don’t hit women, Nerissa."

I slowly rise to my feet, then make a show of dusting off my dress.

"It’s a good thing I don’t hold such sentiments against men, then."

His jaw drops as I lunge at him again. This time, I manage to land a punch square in his abdomen.

He grunts, stumbling backward.

I silently thank Cas for the combat training he forced me through. At the time, I’d complained endlessly about bruises and sore muscles.

Right now, I’d like to send him flowers.

Jeremiah straightens, his expression positively murderous.

"You’re pushing me to my fucking limits, woman!"

"Good!"

He shoves me backward but I regain my balance almost immediately, my anger burning hotter than any sensible instinct I might have possessed.

I charge at him again but suddenly, a pair of strong arms wraps around my waist and yanks me backward.

My feet leave the floor as I struggle instinctively, trying to twist out of the hold.

"LET ME FUCKING GO!"

"What the fuck is going on here?!"

The voice thunders directly behind my ear.

Oh, shit.

Lysander.