Page 6 of Lust and Honor

“Maxim, Maxim…we’re not in fucking Ireland. Natural redheads are rare as unicorns. But this one dyed it so perfectly, she looks more legit than the real thing.”

“Fine. I’ll be there at eight sharp.”

“I’ll have her ready and waiting for you, darling.”

I hang up and roll the window back down, breathing in air that feels cleaner than it did a week ago, because it no longer passes through the lungs of the bastard I drained the life out of. The bastard I waited twenty-five years to gut. Since I was eight.

Now there’s only one fucker left between me and the end of my nightmares. Just one more piece of shit to put in the ground so I can finally sleep without wanting to rip someone apart.

Just one motherfucker left.

Leonardo Scavia. The last of my mother’s killers.

***

As soon as I step into the room, I pour myself a drink and walk straight to the floor-to-ceiling glass wall overlooking the club below. Everything looks good. The bar is packed, the girls are swirling around the poles, showing off everything they’ve got to lure in customers, and the lust in the men’s eyes promises a very profitable night.

This is the room I always use for sex. A private VIP suite that belongs to me, and me alone. Aside from the king-sized bed with red satin sheets, a well-stocked minibar, and a two-drawer cabinet filled with condoms, there’s not much else in the room. There doesn’t need to be.

When I hear a knock at the door, I call out without taking my eyes off the view. “Come in.”

The door opens... but I don’t hear it close. I turn on my heel, and freeze.

The girl standing by the open door makes me pause for a beat, my drink halfway to my mouth. Is this the girl Elen was talking about? Tonight’s surprise?

Damn. She nailed it.

Then I hear her voice—soft, almost timid, laced with a hint of shame. “Are you Maxim?”

The corner of my mouth lifts, and I answer with nothing but a slight nod. Already, all the blood in my body is rushing straight to my dick.

I finish off the Scotch in my glass and gesture toward the door as I make my way to the minibar.

“Close the door, sweetheart,” I say.

She obeys instantly.

I set the glass down and head toward her. I get so close she flinches, trying to step back, but she’s already backed against the door. There’s nowhere for her to go.

“I was just trying to—” she stammers.

I cast a shadow over her and raise my finger to her plush lips, my voice a low murmur. “Shhh, sweetheart. Let me look at you first.”

Her eyes widen, and a soft flush blooms on her pale cheeks. Under the dim red lighting, I study her face.

My hand brushes through her long, curly hair cascading down to her waist, and as I stroke the vibrant red curls, I wonder how this deep, rich wine-red could possibly be fake. I’ve never seen a woman pull off such a natural-looking color.

My fingertips trace up to her brown eyebrows, arched above warm honey-colored eyes that pull me in without trying. Faint freckles dust the skin beneath them, making her look even more like a fucking doll.

Her high, sculpted cheekbones lead down to a sharp, kissable chin, the kind I’m about to trace with my tongue any second now.

Now that I’m done taking in her face, I slide my index finger across the soft, fuckable flesh of her lips and drag it downward.

When the pressure of my finger lifts, she speaks again. “I came here to thank you.”

I’m so drunk on her beauty, on the magnetic energy pulsing off her, that I hear her words with my cock, not my ears. Dipping my head into the hollow of her neck, I inhale deep, and fill my lungs with the scent of spring flowers.

My voice comes out as a low murmur against her skin. “I know a lot of ways to say ‘you’re welcome.’ I’ll show you all of them tonight.”