Scorned (From the Inside Out #1) Read Online Free Page B

afraid she’ll run away again. Instead, I let her voice blanket me in warmth, familiarity, comfort, and I try to relax like we talk all the time.
    “If you look closely,” Juliette continues. “You’ll see lavender mixed in with the orange, black, and red in the bottom left corner. I really like the unexpected lavender.” She pauses and I glance over. She appears to get lost in the painting for a moment before she adds, “It’s something soft found within the harsh.”
    That sounds a lot like how I would describe her after seeing her this morning. I keep that thought to myself though.
    She giggles out of nowhere and I turn to look at her, hoping I’ve elicited the sweet sound. But I see a glass of champagne in her hands and have fond memories of how it always made her laugh. I should have known it wasn’t me.
    Her back is to me as she moves to the next painting, and I can’t pretend to be respectful by restraining myself to quick glances any longer. I look at her, really look at her, watching wholeheartedly, and allowing myself this indulgence. She walks with grace, and refinement, an outer confidence. After placing her glass on a table nearby, she holds her hands behind her back, her delicate fingers wrapped around a small wrist. Her pace is slow, feeling much like an invitation to stay, so I follow.
    I can’t turn back the clock and appreciate what I had, but I still feel the loss of her every day. Realizing I have nothing left to lose since I already lost her, I take a chance. “I don’t know what to call you.”
    She stands there studying the painting in front of her, no anger gracing her beautiful face like it did this morning. “I go by Jules now.” She glances my way and that’s all it takes to be utterly captivated by her, just like I was years before.

 
     
     
    “I LIKE JULES,” I reply, leaving the words lingering between us.
    Juliette turns her head and looks past me. Her eyes widen like she sees someone in the distance, someone she recognizes who makes her smile. “If you’ll excuse me,” she says, not making eye contact, her gaze planted on my chest. I can see her struggle not to look up before she walks away.
    Disappointment and relief covers me equally. I like the time I spent with her, just like this morning at the coffee shop. But it’s intense, heavy between us. I’m relieved to have the chance to take a breath and gather my wits back together. She throws me entirely off my game.
    That makes me wonder if I’m playing a game with her. I don’t mean to. It’s not my style anymore. When did I get game anyway ? Juliette loved that I had no game… when we met. I was popular, but didn’t screw with people’s heads to get my way.
    With Hillary, it was all games. Life was a game to her. People were puppets to be toyed with, their emotions and lives irrelevant. Unlike my family, who are financially secure, coming from money for Hillary taught her not to value anything or anyone. People destroyed in the process were just consequences to the petty game. The first time I met her, I saw the devil in her eyes…
     
    She was there. I think she was waiting for me and I don’t normally drink strong cocktails like martinis, so it was easy to lose my better judgment. What happened became a blur in the darkest of corners past the small antiquated payphone booth, hidden from the rest of the party.
    Targeted. She had targeted me and knew she would get me eventually. I wasn’t strong enough, the liquor loosening my grip on the important things in my life, like Juliette.
    Hands firmly wrap around my neck, pulling me toward the dark. My body ruled my mind in its weakened state. It was obvious that fate had already decided, it was obvious what her craving for me did. She was not shy, but like a woman possessed. Maybe obsessed was more appropriate when looking back.
    Her lips found mine, but I resisted, turning my head. I’d never been with an aggressive woman before. The sudden stirrings I felt