He Took Bullets For Me I Took His Mistress

I didn't answer.

I glanced at the new friend request on my phone.

The profile picture was a punch to the gut.

It was a photo of that dancer kissing Andrews. I accepted. A voice message came through instantly.

"Yolia, I told you Andrews wouldn't let you get away with it. Breaking your man's wrist was just a small lesson for you."

"Andrews says he wants you to come and apologize to me in person."

"I'll be waiting."

"Doesn't everyone say Andrews loves you more than life itself? I'd love to see that up close." Scarlett sent a few more photos. "Which one of these beds do you think would look best in our room?"

"Andrews said the most dangerous place is the safest. The moment I'm out of the hospital tomorrow, I'm moving into the Moretti main residence. With you."

"That room? The one no one's allowed in? It's going to be mine."

Listening to Scarlett's triumphant voice, I looked up at the giant wedding portrait of Andrews and me that dominated the main hall. The irony was suffocating. I toyed with a dagger, then flicked my wrist. It flew through the air and embedded itself in the eye of the smiling Andrews in the painting.

"Filth."

As I walked out of the hall, I saw Andrews directing his men as they unloaded a brand-new, custom-made king-sized bed from a truck. He ordered them to carry it inside. Our paths crossed. For a split second, his mask of composure cracked. I simply leaned against the doorframe, listening as the woman’s cheerful voice called out from behind him.

"Andrews, why aren't you coming in?"

Then, Scarlett turned her head and our eyes met.

"Well, if it isn't Yolia," she hooked her arm through Andrews's, a possessive, familiar gesture, and shot me a provocative look. "Here to welcome me?"

"Figured out how you're going to apologize yet?"

I stared at her arrogant face, at the fleeting look of indulgence in Andrews's eyes, and a sharp, dense pain bloomed in my chest. Before I could speak, Andrews cut in, his voice impossibly gentle when he said her name.

"The doctor said Scarlett needs to rest. You have a nutritionist here anyway, so it's just one more plate at the table. Bella, this is the last chance I'm giving you. Don't waste it."

I truly couldn't understand.

Andrews. What made him so damn sure? That I would just swallow this? That I'd toss aside my pride, my dignity, all for him? Listening to his self-righteous tone, I laughed. As I did, Luca had his men take down the wedding portrait with its gouged-out eye. He asked me, "Miss, where should this go?"

Seeing Andrews's face instantly darken, I pointed to the nearby fireplace.

"Burn it."

Luca nodded and sent a man to get the tools.

But Andrews stopped him, stalking toward me. "What is this tantrum?"

"Yolia," his voice turned cold, "I told you, you were the one in the wrong. By helping Scarlett recover, I'm helping you atone. Don't be ungrateful."

"That's right, Yolia."

Scarlett trailed after him.

"Andrews told me everything. He said you were attacked because of your own past—that you brought it on yourself. A priest told him you need to atone to be blessed with a child. You're throwing his good intentions back in his face, just making one scene after another. You're the one pushing him away."

Scarlett's words were poison darts, stabbing into my heart, prying open a wound I thought had scarred over. I looked at her smug face, then at Andrews, who moved to stop her a second too late. I grabbed a fistful of Scarlett's hair and laughed.

"Who gave you the right to speak to me?"

Before Scarlett could even whimper, I dragged her by the hair and slammed her head against a heavy marble pillar. A dull thud echoed through the hall. Scarlett screamed, and Andrews lunged forward, grabbing my hand as I raised it again.

"Enough!"

Andrews stared at me, his eyes blazing.

"Scarlett doesn't know the rules, she speaks without thinking! But she's not wrong. How long are you going to keep this up?"