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Raphael returned his unfocused gaze back to the darkness on the other side of the window. Liam’s revealing stare caught mine in the rearview mirror. The delivery was gentle, but the warning was dire.
Twenty minutes later, we entered the mansion, and Raphael’s warm grip wrapped around my wrist. He hauled me through the foyer and down the hall in the direction of his study. The joint ached under the pressure. It had been eleven years since I’d fallen from the apple tree, but there are some pains that imprint for life.
We cleared the threshold of his study, and he kicked the door shut behind us, then spun around and pinned me against the wall. The impact robbed me of my breath at the same time Raphael’s lips found my neck. I flinched when his rough mouth began nipping and sucking. For all the awareness he’d had about my bruises just hours ago, he ignored my reaction and took what he wanted now.
He pulled away, pausing to assess my expression, which was no doubt an image of demoralized surrender. He brushed his lips against mine. “You’re mine, darling. I thought we’d established this already. Do not force my hand. You will not like the outcome. Your interest in my brother ends now.”
I didn’t respond. There was no point.
“You’re mine to have, and I fucking want you.” His teeth grazed my shoulder, and then his tongue traced the marks they’d left behind. “Tiernan may have broken you, but it will be my cock that puts you back together as a real queen—my queen.”
Tears gathered on my lower lashes, and I chose an inanimate object in my line of vision to focus on. I needed to see this through. I was drunk and my fiancé wanted to get frisky. It was the perfect opportunity to confirm my memories of that deadly night.
He dipped his tongue into my cleavage and then dragged it over the slopes of my breasts. “You taste like a fucking Russian. No more vodka—you’re fucking Irish.”
He pressed a kiss below my ear and rubbed a circle with the pad of his thumb over the pulse point in my neck. His voice lowered to an eerie calm that sent a frisson of terror through me. “Our cards are on the table now. You know I’m aware of the tainted Callahan blood you have flowing through your veins, and spoiler alert, darling, I don’t need you to tell me why you’re here. I’ve already discovered your motive—why else would you desire to marry a man you’ve never met? To become queen of a city that holds such painful memories for you?”
Raphael Flynn was nothing but lies and manipulation and secrets.
A low hiss slipped through his lips, and I knew he’d felt my pulse quicken out of fear. He reared back, his stare unreadable.
I’d been up close and personal with the prospect of death and had considered my inevitable demise an unthinkable number of times, but I’d never imagined it’d end like this.
Raphael was always going to fuck me and kill me, regardless of his agreement with Aiden Brennan. But if I were granted a dying wish, it wouldn’t have been in that order.
Raphael stroked my hair, gathering the strands in his fist. He tugged, lifting my chin and exposing my jugular. A shiver of vulnerability went through me. My lids fell shut as I prayed the lord my soul to keep.
“Money and power—you’re ambitious in that regard. A woman created just for me. A gift from the gods.”
My eyes fluttered open.
I was still alive, and Raphael was still in the dark.
I hated myself for what I was about to do, but I hadn’t come this far just to come this far.
I rose to my tiptoes and crushed my mouth to his, sinking my teeth into his bottom lip until the faint taste of his blood reached our taste buds. He growled in approval—just as I’d assumed the sick fuck would. His hands slid along my curves until his fingers dug into my ass cheeks. He peeled me off the wall and groaned with carnal appreciation.
“Ah, my very own little hellkitten,” he drawled. “I’m going to enjoy playing with you. I’ll just need to keep in mind that liquor and knives bring out the Brennan in you.”
His fingers danced up my chest, then curled around my throat. “Maybe it made Tiernan’s cock hard to see you behave like a feral alley pussy in public, but that’s not how we do things in Boston. Molotov’s fear of me is the only thing that prevented him from putting two bullets in your chest and one in your head out of sheer pleasure.” His lips planted a soft kiss against my cheek. “Let’s keep the knife play between us—shall we?”
He slid his hand between my thighs, inching it upward until his fingertips grazed my most sensitive area.
I swallowed the foul taste of shame. And my pride while I was at it. This fucked-up seduction was a means to an end—an end that couldn’t come soon enough. But I knew that if Raphael realized I was as dry as the Sahara, his ego would’ve kicked me out the door on principle alone before I had the chance to get what I needed.
Proof.
One shove to his chiseled front and he stumbled back with a laugh that dripped sex. He reversed toward the leather couch, which was bathed in the soft glow of the fireplace.
Our winter coats hit the floor, then I shucked off Raphael’s suit jacket. Lewd amazement continued to dance across his face as I tore at his clothing and sent the buttons of his dress shirt scattering.
I stalked him like the predator I’d become, reaching for him before he had the chance to sit down. That wouldn’t do. I needed him on his feet.
He dipped his head and nuzzled behind my ear. “Fuck, Willa,” he breathed. “If I’d known how special you’d become—I would have kept you for myself all those years ago.”
Raphael tensed.
Ice filled my veins, and then I was kissing him with the fervor necessary to distract him from his Freudian slip. Hopefully, he’d blame my feigned ignorance on the alcohol and his irresistible sex appeal.
