Page 66 of Pride: Kneel Before None

I rolled my eyes but obeyed anyway. My sapphire hues dragged up the center of his body without any desire to rush. After admiring the angle of his jaw currently dusted with an early five o’clock shadow, I cast my best smile, projecting innocence at him.

A flash of feral energy was there and gone again. It promised there would be words—or hands—later. Replacing it was the cold, calculating look of a Knight of Hell prepared to defend his side of the chessboard. To protect his queen—me, obviously.

He turned back to Monica, who was preoccupied glaring at the wind that kept flapping up the lapels of her unfortunate fashion choice.

“Shall—” She smoothed down the fabric on her jacket one last time. “Shall I have security on standby?”

She pulled out her phone, tapping away as if she knew the answer.

Ace waved off the notion. “If it comes to it, security won’t be necessary after I’ve finished with him.”

The dark promise beneath those words was not lost on anybody.

Monica’s fingertips paused against the glass surface of her phone.

“Understood.” She pocketed her phone.

A pause came just long enough for Ace to give her one more order.

“Oh, and Monica? Have Ignatius prepare Box Seventeen and deliver it to the penthouse.”

The bizarre request didn’t seem to faze the woman who had less personality than a yeti’s toenail clippers. She nodded and strode ahead of us to make herself useful elsewhere.

Lifting a brow, unable to help my curiosity, I asked, “Box Seventeen?”

The bastard smirked like he knew what resided in Pandora’s jar, while I was the dumbass who’d sealed it shut and promptly forgotten where I’d put it.

He extended a hand for me to take, palm up.

“Box Seventeen.”

CHAPTER 21

Ahead of me, the matte silver doors of Executive Conference Hall Omega were the only thing dividing a dead man walking and me. Rip may not have been on my death note that day, but I knew one day he would face his demise at my hands.

Pulling both doors open with commanding force, they rocked against the outermost limits of the hinges.

Visitors who showed up unannounced, uninvited, and unwilling to leave had nothing but the sharp rise of my temper to look forward to. Rip would be no exception.

Stepping through the entryway, I was every bit the businessman who knew how to cut deals like a shark knows how to cut through water.

Eve followed behind me, her shorter stride struggling to keep up as indicated by her heels clicking wildly against the polished marble floor.

Rip’s silhouette looked pitiful in comparison to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the shimmering mirage pools where guests either basked in the glow of their winnings or drowned their sorrows. Sometimes literally.

He didn’t bother turning around. Instead, his hands remained tucked in his pants pockets like he had all fucking day to consume the air inside my casino.

My Little Spade came to stand at my side. The tension radiated off her, which just pissed me off even more because I wasn’t the cause of it.

I shifted just enough to gain a fraction of an inch in front of her, the gesture subtle enough not to hear her bitch about it but still make it clear she was under my protection.

“Rip,” I greeted with nothing but icy detachment. It was a stark contrast to the inferno ripping through my veins, ready to unleash the second he blinked wrong.

He turned, removing his hands from his pockets to smooth back his thinning hair over the crooked curves of his horns. The white strands looked like strands of cotton that had been stretched too thin and twirled back together.

“Ah! Ace, I thought you’d never show. You’ve been busy—or so I’ve heard.”

The thin smile he wore twisted into a curve, one corner lifting into a partial snarl while the other drooped into a twitching facial tic.