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My brain whirred, trying to put what she was saying into logic. She wanted to use me to to frustrate him? To fuck me?
Having her to myself was all I wanted, but she kept herself closed off from that sort of intimacy. Could I let her use me and go back to nothing afterwards? It would tear me apart. I blinked before looking at her. I wanted to storm over and wrap her in my arms, to tell her to forget it all and to run away with me.
But I couldn’t.
Even after the years by her side, she wasn’t ready for that.
So, I’d bide my time.
And if that meant accepting whatever scraps she offered, then so be it.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I’ll help.’
Harriet’s smile set my pulse rocketing. Fuck, I’d do anything to see it.
‘Thank you. We need to make him desperate. So desperate that he’ll be ready to sell the fuckers he’s protecting out for a mere whiff of sex. Do you think you’ll be able to fake that kind of passion?’
‘Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage.’
Because what if the old adage ‘fake it until you make it’ worked? What if I fucked her so damn well that I made her forget that Alfie was even there?
Maybe it was my one chance to make her fall for me.
NINE
HARRIET
I’d left Alfie to stew for three days, having Petros offer food, water and basic exercise as well as the opportunity to wash. Having been in his shoes, I knew how the basics became something to focus on every day. I needed Alfie sane until he broke and gave me my answers.
He sat in the corner, leaning back against the bars, both wrists cuffed to the metal. Despite his predicament, he continued to look as fucking jovial as ever.
‘Morning. Or Afternoon, maybe? Thought you’d forgotten all about me, Princess.’ Alfie had the audacity to smirk.
A ripple of anger prickled at the endearment. How fucking dare he?
‘If you call me that again, you’ll lose at least one testicle.’
His knees inched a little tighter together, but he didn’t let my threat affect him otherwise. ‘You’ve still not told me your name, which is rather rude given that you are keeping me penned up in your basement.’
Stalking closer to him, I knelt by the bars, reaching through and grasping him firmly by the hair. ‘Oh, you’ll know who I am. I’m surprised someone with such a smart fucking mouth doesn’t have the brains to back it up. You’ve had days to rack that pathetic little mind of yours.’
The small moan that escaped his mouth surprised me. I dropped my hand as my mouth turned down in disgust.
‘My name is Harriet, but I’m more commonly known as The Viper in your circles. Or so I’m led to believe.’ I hadn’t frequented his circles for quite some time, after all.
Alfie’s eyebrows twitched, his mind clearly rifling through to put the name to the rumours he’d likely heard.
‘I don’t believe in folklore. Tales of a former whore wreaking revenge, a scarred monster disembowelling men. Ridiculous. It’s like telling me you’re the bloody bogeyman.’ His words may have been packed with bluster, but they lacked his usual cocky confidence.
Leaning in close, I gave him a smile. ‘Tell me what they say, Alfie? What are the rumours you’ve heard?’
His hands clenched in his cuffs. ‘Nothing. You’re just fucking with me.’
Standing, I reached behind me and unzipped my dress, while he watched me like a hawk. ‘They told you I was scarred? How about the tattoos?’
‘Snakes,’ he whispered.
‘What they probably didn’t mention was the reason for the tattoos. For years, I suffered under the hands of men. Knives. Whips. Cigarettes. Even a brand from one particularly nasty piece of work. I turned and displayed my back to him, his intake of breath telling me the view did the trick. I’d seen my back. I knew. Even with the dark ink etched over the scars, my back was still a mess of knotted, raised, ugly flesh. ‘I may well be a scarred monster, but I am a monster of their creation. Like any good horror story, their creation comes back to haunt them.’
