Page 73 of Villainous Intent

Annie’s eyes flew open, wide and disoriented, her lips still parted in a silent plea for the kiss I had just denied her. The flush on her cheeks deepened.

I looked down at her, my expression a mask of arrogant triumph. I had made my point. Her mouth could spout all the rejections she wanted, but her body was already mine.

“Think about the offer, Bishop.”

I turned my back on her, walking over to the primary console. I snatched up my mask, not bothering to look at her again. Looking at her would only feed the hunger I was struggling to force back into its cage.

“I’m going out,” I said, securing the mask. “I have a full schedule of street clashes. When you’re finished with the Syndicate files, Number Three will escort you back to your apartment.”

I walked out of the lab, the doors hissing shut behind me, sealing her inside with the Syndicate files and the reality of her own wet, aching body.

The second the door shut, the timer started in my head.

My blood was a roaring inferno of denied lust and adrenaline. I needed an outlet before I tore my own lair apart. The streets were calling, and I was going to revel in the crunch of bone. I was going to take every ounce of sexual frustration and paint the Financial District with it until my knuckles were bruised.

And then, tonight, I would see her again because Annie Bishop was a people pleaser down to her marrow. Even if she didn’t want to go to Hunter’s party and chance seeing me, she would go because Dawn had asked her to, and Annie was pathologically incapable of letting her friend down.

So she could run for now. But tonight, there would be nowhere left to hide.

CHAPTER 14

ANNIE

The address Dawn gave me for the party belonged to a glass-and-steel monolith in Luminous Heights. I pulled into the underground garage, swiping the black access card Number Three had shoved into my hand when he’d dropped me off at home earlier. I had almost thrown it back at him out of stubbornness but thank God my practical side won out.

Street parking in this district required either a trust fund or a miracle, and I possessed neither.

I pulled into the designated spot right next to a pair of elevators. One featured a keypad, clearly a private entrance, so I headed for the standard car marked for the lobby.

As I crossed the lobby, I smoothed my hands over the skirt of my dress, suddenly hyper-aware of my own tax bracket. The building Dawn and I lived in was nice, but not have-a-waterfall-in-the-lobby nice. I approached the curved security desk, fully prepared to hand over my ID and explain I was here for Hunter’s party, but the guard in the tailored suit didn’t even give me the chance to open my mouth. “Ms. Bishop. You’re expected. Please use the express elevator at the end of the hall.”

I thanked him, wondering how the hell he’d known who I was as I walked away. I decided that a building like this probably had a really good security system and had used facial recognition on me the moment I’d stepped out of my car.

I pressed the single illuminated button in the elevator and as the car shot upward, my stomach executed a nervous flip. A small, desperate part of my brain prayed Cipher’s street clashes had run long and he was too busy breaking bones across the city to bother showing up.

Cipher’s games in the lab were infuriating. He claimed he wanted me, but the math simply failed to add up. I didn’t suffer from low self-esteem, but I lived in reality. The man possessed staggering wealth and a face engineered to make women ruin their lives. He could have anyone. His sudden fixation on me was just another manipulation tactic. He wanted something from me, and he knew my body was the easiest way to bypass my brain.

I looked at my reflection in the elevator’s doors. I had spent a full hour getting ready. My hair was styled in loose waves, my makeup was flawless, and I wore a dark blue cocktail dress that hit mid-thigh. I had dressed up partially out of spite, and tonight, I was going to prove how little his twisted offer meant to me. Dawn had mentioned Finley Adkins was going to be at the party and he’d been badgering her to set us up for months. I didn’t actually want Finley, but I wanted his straightforward, uncomplicated attention. I wanted a man whose goals were transparent, even if those goals began and ended with getting me into his bed.

I was going to show Cipher exactly what I wanted. I wanted gentle touches, soft words, and a normal, human connection devoid of violence and coercion. I wanted someone who wouldn’t leave me aching and humiliated on the floor.

A throb pulsed between my legs at the memory of Cipher’s fingers slipping inside me. I forced the sensation down, locking it away.

I did not want the monster.

The elevator doors slid apart, and the volume of the party swallowed me.

Dawn had lied, or she had vastly underestimated the social ecosystem of Chroma Bay. The space was packed and there wasn’t any definition in existence that would allow it to be called a little party.

I stepped out of the foyer and spotted a cluster of Dawn’s museum colleagues shouting over the bass-heavy music. A few feet away, sipping champagne, stood three League Villains in civilian clothes, blending in perfectly. The guest list had clearly mutated, every invitee dragging along five of their closest friends. There were easily a hundred people in attendance.

But it was the penthouse itself that really shocked me.

I moved into a massive room with soaring ceilings. The entire far wall consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows offering a jaw-dropping, unobstructed view of the bay and the glowing neon ribbons of the Phoenix Bridge. It was a view only obscene wealth could buy.

“Annie!” Dawn materialized from the crush of bodies, her cheeks flushed a deep pink. She threw her arms around my neck, smelling of gin and citrus mixed with her jasmine perfume.

“You made it!” she yelled over the music, pulling back with a wide grin.