All Chapters of My Bruised Heart: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

DOM Why didn't she want to tell me who did it? I understood not wanting to talk about it, but I needed to hold the person responsible. Personally. Seeing her back this morning did something to me. A dangerous rage I hadn’t known since the day my mother died resurfaced, boiling beneath my skin like magma, and I wanted fucking blood. I could do it too. I could make whoever was responsible pay dearly and get away with it. I studied law—I knew full well what I was capable of. But she wouldn't tell me. I couldn't exactly blame her. And yet, the thought of her suffering in silence killed me. Did I really even care? Fuck. I did. I did fucking care. I didn’t want to, but I guess I just couldn't help my damn self now, could I? I didn’t even deserve to care. Every petty thing I did to her, every cold remark, every fucking scowl—I was just another weight on her shoulders, another reason to suffer. Had something like this been on her plate the whole time? And there I was, just adding to i

MILES The week passed quickly. Too quickly. Between classes, the library, and my careful avoidance of certain people, I hardly spent any time at the manor. Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays were stacked with coursework, and when I wasn't in class, I made myself scarce. Wednesday and Friday were my "off" days, but Dominic still had morning and evening practice. The only day he was free was Sunday, and somehow, he insisted I spend it with him. Dom had become something of a caretaker. An excellent one. Too excellent. He rebandaged my back at every opportunity, his hands frustratingly gentle. I’d feel his fingers graze the nape of my neck, the tips skating over my skin before he’d pull away and pretend like it never happened. We didn’t talk much during those moments. Maybe he was biting his tongue, waiting for me to explain. I never did. And I never asked him to kiss me again. Not because I didn’t want to, but because he always left before I could. As soon as he finished tending to me

MILES He kissed me again. I didn't even have to ask him. Dominic just put his lips against mine, putting out my fury with the tenderness of his kiss. He kissed me until I leaned into him and then abruptly pulled away, walking out of my room. I stood there shocked. What the hell had just happened? We were talking, and then fighting, and then ended it with kissing. 'No, Miles. You're wrong. You're everything.' What had he meant by that? Everything as a person? Everything to him? I was still standing there, frozen in the bathroom when he came back, and sat me back on the toilet to rebandage my back without saying another word. When he was done, he put my first aid kit up and left. My head started to hurt, so I went to lie down. I tried sleeping, but his words just kept echoing in my mind over and over again. I'd never been told that before. Not even by Kenzie, who tried every single day to remind me that I was loved. I didn't know what to do with it, or how to digest it. E

DOM WARNING: LOTS OF F-BOMBS, A SHIT TON OF DESIRE, AND POOR IMPULSE CONTROL It was too fucking hot for this suit. Too fucking tight. Too fucking public. Too fucking her. The heat wasn’t just from the midday sun beating down on my black dress shirt. It wasn’t from the crowd buzzing with their fake smiles, their hollow laughs, their constant chatter. It wasn’t even from the champagne that Marcus handed me, which I downed in one go. It was her. It was that fucking dress. I knew I shouldn't have looked. I knew Marcus was about to hit me with some wise-ass warning, but I still let my eyes follow his line of sight. I still let my gaze land on her. And fuck me—I shouldn't have. I clenched my jaw so tight my teeth ached. That. Fucking. Dress. Who the fuck let her wear that? The square-cut neckline framed her perfect tits like a goddamn invitation. The lace sleeves hugged her delicate arms, crawling up her throat like some elegant fucking collar. But that skirt—the one that stoppe

*WARNING: ABUSE* MILES The luncheon had dissolved into a drunken mess, the rich and polished losing their composure under the afternoon sun. I had to get away. I had to get out of that maze. Out of that heat. Away from him. Dominic didn’t chase me. My heels clicked furiously against the marble floors of the estate as I slipped inside. I barely made it past the grand staircase before kicking them off, clutching them in my hands. My dress—this fucking dress—felt like a vice, suffocating me under layers of fabric and lace. I needed it off. I rounded the hall to my bedroom. But as I neared my door, a chill swept down my spine. The light was on. I hesitated, heart hammering against my ribs. Slowly, I eased the door open— Marcus. He was sprawled in my reading chair, lazily flipping through one of my books. My smuttiest book. "Marcus!" I whisper-shouted, shutting the door behind me and locking it. “What the fuck are you doing here? And—give me that!” I snatched the book from his h