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“I don’t beg, especially to men like you.”
“Oh sweetheart, you have no idea what men like me can do.” His sensual purr lashed heat on my mouth. “Perhaps I’ll show you.”
I snorted. “If it involves licking my face, I’ll pass.”
He made a pensive sound. “Could’ve sworn you enjoyed that.”
I gripped the phone tighter. My heartbeat throbbed through my hand, shaking it. He was the last man I should’ve been getting worked up over. Marrying him was a sacrifice for Jack.
“Nothing to say to that, huh?”
“Stop flirting with me.”
His dark chuckle sent a thrill down my belly. “You’re my fiancée. I’ll do with you what I want.”
I’m not debating this over the phone.
I sucked in a ragged breath, my head pounding. “I’ll be there soon. I’m having a hard time packing up my sister’s room.”
“Leave it. I’ll take care of it.”
“No offense, but I prefer to do this myself.”
“I’ll give you an hour. One. Hour. If you’re not in the car by then, I’ll drive there and drag you home myself.”
He hung up.
Such a jerk. I stuffed my phone away. Then I packed, distracted by my frantic thoughts and the warmth clinging to my collar. I boxed up Elise’s things. The room slowly emptied, and the space around us grew hollow. When I’d sealed the final box, a pang tightened my chest.
“Time to go?” Jack’s whisper broke the silence.
I nodded, clasping his hand.
We stepped out of the room, leaving the door ajar.
“Where are we going?” Jack’s question pulled me back to the present.
“To your daddy’s house. Me, you, and your daddy are gonna live together. Isn’t that nice?”
Jack frowned.
The movers hauled the last boxes to the truck. I watched them as we climbed into a car driven by Achille’s associate. As he turned out of the parking lot, it became just another building in the rearview mirror.
You have no idea what men like me can do.
Achille’s husky voice echoed in my head, pitting my stomach with fire. If I had to deal with him for the rest of my life, I’d lose my mind. Was I really moving in with that man? I needed a drink. I couldn’t shake off my nerves. I felt like I played the damsel in a fairy tale and this was the prologue, in which she’s transported to her castle by her evil prince.
And she falls under his dark spell.
Forever.
Achille’s castle was a brick triplex in Belltown.
I drank in the handsome row of brick-red houses, the wrought-iron fencing, the park right across the road. The tree-lined street screamed safe. Inconspicuous. I imagined writing the description for a real estate listing—the perfect home for a hitman.
I unbuckled my seatbelt.
“Whoa, big house!” Jack roared.
