o her skin. She physically recoiled at the thought of hitting

h violently. A sharp, electrical sting bit into t

r open. Her heels clicked against the marble a

a priceless Ming dynasty vase shattered into a

porcelain sliced across her calf, l

was standing on top of the custom Italian sofa,

aircase. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, hi

twisted into a bratty sneer. He hurled the cryst

er-webbed into black cracks. Tristan threw his hea

er near the dining room, physically

y real, very hot surge of anger rushe

ice was perfectly polite, but entirely d

, mocking gleam in Cole's eyes. He

t just watching. He was enabling his b

om the sofa. "Go back to your room, you

system's demand for a dramatic, scr

trum. She stepped forward, her heels crun

hoed in the massive hall. The sheer calm r

d his arm, his eyes widening as sh

ed inside his pockets. This wasn

of hesitation, her hand shot out and cla

. He dropped the throw

his small body wildly like a feral cat, sna

ck of his collar. She flipped him over and pi

air, screaming at the top of his lungs. "Let

shed down the stairs, lowering his shoulder t

vision. She snapped her head toward him, he

face. Her voice was as cold as crushed ice

hit him like a wall. He stopped in his trac

ck to the thrashing child pinned under her hand. She raised her ri