Page 8 of Possessive Mr. Pen

When I turn the corner, she eyes the open door but guards her reaction, so I lead her through the foyer and close the door behind us.

Halfway down the hall, I ask the question she used to taunt me less than half an hour ago.

“Who was the red wine for?”

Her fingers tighten on my sleeve before she relaxes her grip.

“Eric Beaumonte,” she responds.

I add a note next to his name on my mental list.The man will pray for death by the time I’m done with him.

“And who was the champagne for?”I continue.

Her wary side-eye proves she knows me well.I will not relent until she gives me the information I seek.

I tug her closer in warning when she doesn’t respond fast enough.Her breast and hip brush against me.

She opens her mouth to answer, but a trio of women, all dressed to impress, turns the corner and walk toward us.Without a single outward indication, Hilary shrinks away.Her aura dampens as she pulls her emotions behind her defenses and offers the ladies a polite smile.I paste my features into a neutral expression and nod by way of greeting until the two women in the back give Hilary judgmental once-overs.Their eyes widen in fear at my scowl, and they push their clueless friend past us without a word.

Before I can repeat my question, two attendants with a drunk patron staggering between them exit the ballroom.The man, Alfred Hundley, a socialite riding on the coattails of his parents, bends in half.They usher him into the corner just in time for him to vomit all over his shoes.

I lead Hilary through the double doors without another word.We step into the glittering ballroom as though we belong.

Because I do.This wealth and power should have all been mine by birth, but fate favors the cruel and tramples the weak.Revenge demands I slither my way into elite society by any means necessary, even if it means dragging Hilary in with me.

When her alertness rises to match mine, I don the persona countless businessmen fear.I leave most of the small talk to Hilary—her natural grace ensures men flock to her, much to my frustration and annoyance—but I leave my mark in the conversations where appropriate.

My senses sharpen impossibly further as I spot a familiar face in the crowd.I regulate my breathing as adrenaline floods my veins.

Like a demon wearing a human suit, Alex Koch, the man who stole my mother’s innocence only to cast her aside like garbage, stands with perfectly styled hair, radiant skin, and a beaming, perfect smile.He hasn’t aged a day in the twenty-four years since I last saw him.

Money will do that for a hideous creature.

An eerie calm creeps through me as evil incarnate slides her arm through his.

Jocelyn Koch, his lawfully wedded wife and the monster who murdered my mother, smiles with the practiced peace only a power-hungry fake bitch can portray.

They offer Hilary and I polite, inquisitive smiles.Not an ounce of recognition gleams in their eyes.

Maniacal glee sweeps through me.

Of course they don’t know who I am.I’m no longer the terrified, scrawny eight-year-old boy they tried to silence so long ago.

I began my quest for vengeance twenty-four years ago, but today is the day the true games begin.

Today is the day they meet the business tycoon who will rip all their successes out from under them.Today is the day they greet the man who’ll orchestrate their downfall.Today is the day they welcome a snake born of vengeance into their inner circle.

Today is the day they meet me.

Connor Pen.

Hilary stiffens as she senses the predatory shift within me.A sliver of guilt wedges between my ribs.She’s walked straight into danger without even knowing it, but I need to keep her close.

I will ruin the Koch family one deceitful step at a time, with Hilary by my side.

No matter what it takes.

Chapter 3