ADDICTED

3

JAMES

My pulse railed against my temples as my rage plumed inside, ready to pour out of me. I stepped out of the room for two minutes and Leah Harris had slithered in to corner my mother.

This sneaky little bitch.

As I approached, she turned to face me and a disapproving look slid across my mother's face. The blood drained from Leah's blushing skin and her dark eyes widened. Her mouth pursed, anticipating my attack, no doubt.

I stopped before the two of them and nodded. "Mother, may I have a word with Miss Harris?"

If my mother hadn't remembered and Leah hadn't revealed her identity, I hoped mentioning her name would jog my mother's memory.

"Why?" asked my mother instead. That lone word rang like a challenge.

"I want to speak with her," I growled. "In private."

"James, darling, I know how you are," she said. "Do not do anything foolish to this young woman. She came to make peace."

Glancing at Leah, I snorted. She clenched her jaw and looked away, the heat returning to her face. My mother snapped her fingers.

"I am not in the mood to tolerate your insolence," she warned. "If you won't be respectful, allow Leah to go on her way."

"Gladly," I bit out.

"Actually," Leah finally spoke, her gaze meeting mine, "I would like to talk to you, James."

I wavered again. Of course, she wanted to talk to me. Evidently, I was the only one in this family who acknowledged that this woman murdered Jarrod. For fuck's sake.

My lips twisted cynically as I ordered, "Follow me."

We sifted through the guests fraternizing in their black outfits, many watching us with curious or judging gazes that I shrugged off. I led Leah down the hall to an empty private room. She followed noiselessly behind, only the click of her heels letting me know she hadn't made a run for it.

Not that I would let her. She was the one who'd willingly entered the lions' den, after all.

I held the door until she passed through it, not looking at me as she crossed to the single window overlooking the parking lot. As I closed the door, my eyes skimmed over her figure cast in the late afternoon sunlight from the window. I didn't bother to flick on the room's lights.

Leah's dress was solid black and knee-length, flaring out from her hips. It was rather conservative and business-like. Her black pumps were new, unscuffed. The tight bun her hair had been wrapped in at the service was looser down, a few stubborn honey-blonde tendrils slipping out.

My fingers itched to grab those tendrils and use them to pull her against me, to make her feel some semblance of the agony resonating down to my marrow. I noticed with a grunt of disgust that I could see her panty lines through the dress.

My grunt garnered her attention from the window as she faced me with a sigh.

"I understand why you hate me," she spoke. Her eyes were clear but dark.

Although I continued to glare at her, the sincerity in her gaze nagged at some long-dormant sentiment inside me. I flinched at the warmth expanding in my chest.

"I don't expect you to forgive me or be amiable in any sense," she continued in my silence. "I know that you were his best friend in addition to being his brother. Jarrod adored you. I want you to know that if I could have changed the outcome of that night, I would do it in a heartbeat. I never wanted that to happen to him.