Scorned Beauty Spoiler
Copyright 2025 Victoria Paige Books All rights reserved.
The Gut Punch Moment…
Sloane POV
“Dom,” I cried, stumbling to follow him. I forgot about my pride. I forgot about my dignity. I forgot about the walls I’d erected so I wouldn’t end up in a position of being ridiculed for daring to want more. But who was I kidding? I was on the streets begging a man who was way above my station to listen to me. Because this was more than about me. I needed Dom to help me find Billy. If he had formed an alliance with the Russians… “Dom, Billy is missing!”
He paused and turned to me, but the condemnation in his eyes slayed me. “Not my problem.” His mouth twisted cruelly. “He’s trash. And I don’t deal with trash.”
“Are you saying I’m trash?” You’re nothing but trash.
I needed him to say it. I needed him to hurt me enough that I could delete the feelings I have for him. I needed him to validate why people like me could never be with people like him.
He raised a brow. “You said it, not me.”
He couldn’t have stated more clearly what exactly he thought of me.
You’re nothing but trash.
Those hated words echoed in my head. The ringing in my ears blocked out the sounds of my surroundings. My gut heaved. My chest grew tight. My emotions blurred my vision.
You’re nothing but trash.
I will not cry. I will not cry.
Cruelty I’d never seen before carved itself on Dom’s face.
“Make sure she leaves,” he spoke to the suited security who stopped me earlier.
The man blocked me from getting near Dom. “I’m sorry, lady. Leave or I’ll have to call the cops.”
“I got her,” Phil said behind me.
Dom glanced over his shoulder and saw my companion. Dom emitted another disgusted scoff and returned his attention to the arriving limo.
“That was hard to watch,” Phil muttered.
But Dom wasn’t done shredding my heart. He opened the door to the luxury vehicle. Even with Phil dragging me away, a compunction to stay became an overwhelming defense mechanism to torture myself to the point of obliterating my feelings for this man.
Like a horror movie unreeling, I watched a tiny woman gowned in an exquisite blue satin dress, plant her golden-heeled dainty feet on the ground. Her hair fell in glorious blonde waves around her.
A suppressed cry hitched in my throat.
“Let’s go, Sloane.” Sympathy dripped from Phil’s words.
The carnage decimating my heart was too enormous to contain, and I emitted a wounded sob.
Dom smiled charmingly at the blonde. He helped her out of the limo, not once looking my way as if I’d already been forgotten.
I didn’t know how I made it back to Phil’s SUV. It was as if my brain had ceased processing information, simply locked in the scene’s agony. I only became aware of my surroundings when we reached the tunnel.