Page 129 of I Will Break You

Shivering, she presses her scrawny ass into my crotch, looking like she’s falling into a fawn response. I hold her at arm’s length and grimace. No pale imitation could ever distract me from my Amethyst.

“I’m going to release my hand. If you scream, then the torture begins. Understood?”

She responds with a frantic nod.

I pull my hand from her mouth and wipe it on the fabric of my borrowed pants. Something about this discount version of Amethyst gives me the creeps.

“Question one: where did you get that locket?”

She raises her wrist. “My boyfriend.”

“His name?” I growl.

She tries turning her head, but I tighten my grip around her throat.

“Did I give you permission to move?”

“No, sir,” she replies, her voice breathy with excitement.

My lip curls. Does she think this is the first chapter of a dark romance novel? I shake off that thought and focus on the interrogation. “Tell me his name.”

“What?” Her voice rises several octaves.

“The boyfriend who gifted you this locket. What. Is. His. Name?” I punctuate each word with a squeeze of her throat.

“Xero,” she whispers. “Xero Greaves.”

My nostrils flare. She doesn’t even sound like my Amethyst.

“And your name?”

“Kayla Kaplinsky.”

“I see,” I lie, because I sure as fuck didn’t correspond with any such woman. “And your connection to Amethyst Ravenly?”

Kayla hesitates for a moment before turning her head again. “Is it really you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re Xero. No one but you ever used that last name for her.”

My jaw tenses. This is Amethyst’s return address. This is where I sent her lingerie, gifts, and letters. And this woman is implying that her real name isn’t even Ravenly.

I release my grip around her throat. “How are you connected to Amethyst?”

She whirls around, her huge eyes widening as she sweeps her gaze up and down my form. “I’m her personal assistant. Well, not really. I work for her agent.”

“Agent?” I tilt my head.

“Amethyst is writing a book about your romance. My boss is negotiating a million-dollar book deal.”

Fury simmers in my gut, but I hold my features in a hard mask. There’s no point wringing this creature’s neck. I need to get the facts straight before I overreact. Because Amethyst can’t be a two-faced woman who faked a relationship to write a book.

“And what is your role in this?” I ask.

She straightens. “This is the address on Amethyst’s link page. When people want to send her stuff, it goes through me.”

“You sort through her mail?”