Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 220

Chapter 220

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“You,” she said, setting her up down on the saucer with a clink that sounded sharp and deliberate. “What are you doing in my grandson’s house? Get out this instant”

I did not stop walking. “I am not here for you, ma’am. I am here for Dominic.”

“You will not go near him. I forbid it.”

“I am sorry, ma’am, but I do not take orders from you.”

She rose from the couch with a speed that surprised me, her voice rising to a shriek. “I said get out! You are not welcome here! You are nothing but a homewrecker, a whore who is trying to…”

She took another step toward me, still shouting, and I raised the stun gun and pressed it against her arm. Her body seized, her eyes rolling back in her head, and she crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

I stared down at her for a moment, the stun gun still humming in my hand. Then I let out a breath.

“I am sorry, ma’am,” I whispered, bending down and sliding my arms under her body. She was lighter than I expected, frail in a way that surprised me, and I carried her to the couch and laid her down gently, arranging her limbs so she looked like she was sleeping. “I really am sorry. But you left me no choice.”

I turned and hurried toward Dominic’s room. The door was locked from the inside, the kind of heavy solid door that did not budge when I tried the handle. I stepped back, took a deep breath, and kicked.

The first kick sent a shock of pain up my leg but the door barely moved. I kicked again, putting all my weight behind it, and I heard the wood begin to splinter. The third kick sent the door swinging open, the lock breaking free from the frame, and I

stumbled into the room.

I stopped.

Dominic was on the bed, shirtless, his chest glistening with sweat, his muscles taut and strained. He looked weak, his head lolling to the side, his eyes glassy and unfocused, his breath coming in heavy labored gasps. His hair was wet, plastered to his forehead, and his pants were soaked through like someone had dumped a bucket of water over him.

And beside him, in nothing but a thin piece of lingerie that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, sat Imelda.

She was perched on the edge of the bed like a vulture, her hand resting on Dominic’s chest, her body leaning toward him. When she saw me, her face twisted into a snarl and she scrambled off the bed, planting herself between me and Dominic.

“Celeste.”

Dominic’s voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and strained, and it broke something inside me. I crossed the room and sat down on the bed beside him, my hand reaching out to touch his face. His skin was burning, hot enough to make me pull my hand back in shock. His clothes were soaked with sweat, his entire body trembling with a heat that felt unnatural, dangerous.

“Dominic, what did they do to you?”

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