Page 41 of Tease Me


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She cries out as I grab her arm and yank her to her feet. “Who the fuck do you think you are, you fucking slut?”

She hits out at my hand that’s gripping the top of her arm, digging into the flesh. “You’re hurting me.”

Tears are already filling her eyes, reminding me of how different she is to how she used to be.

“Good.” She can’t swat me away easily. She might have changed, but so have I. I’m no longer the scrawny teenager she used to know. Years of working out have turned my body into that of a god. And just like a god, I’m going to make sure she ends the day on her knees, praying.

“I know you are playing us, Sin. You’re not that good of an actress.”

She pulls against me. She has no chance of escaping. My hand almost fits right round her arm. She’s skinnier than I remember. She’s probably spent the last few years on every fad diet going.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

My fingers dig in deeper. “Bullshit. You’ve been lying to us from the second we picked you up.”

“You threw me in the trunk of your car!” she snaps back. That was Mercier and Dacre, but I’m not going to argue about semantics. “And you wrote your own ransom letter. Pretty impressive for a blind person.”

I’m fucking reveling in her fear. I’ve dreamed about this and the reality is so much sweeter. I can smell the fear, see it in her expression. Just what I thought. She’s lying.

“I did write it!” she whimpers. I’ll admit she’s a fucking trooper. Even caught in an obvious lie, she’s holding onto it.

“Let’s see then.” I drag her round the sofa. She screams out as her leg gets caught. I don’t even stop pulling. By the time we get to the kitchen island, her face is red and puffy and dripping in tears and snot.

“Fucking sort yourself out,” I snap, grabbing a towel and throwing it at her. She’s a disgusting mess.

I grab one of the pens that Dacre has left behind and force it into her hand.

“Write!” I demand, thrusting a pizza menu toward her.

“What?”

“You’re a deaf bitch as well as blind, huh? I said write. You’ve got a pen. There’s paper in front of you. Write.”

Her hand wobbles as she places the pen down to the paper. She stands stock still, not moving. The seconds tick on. Her whole body is shaking and still she won’t move the pen. She’s not even trying.

I expected her to give it a go. I could write a passable letter with my eyes closed. It would be a mess and would look like a five-year-old had written it, but I could do it.

“I can’t,” she cries, dropping the pen and slumping.

I fucking knew it. “There’s no thirty million dollars?”

She shakes her head. She’s not crying anymore, but her eyes still sparkle with tears that haven’t fallen yet.

I start to laugh. She’s played us all. It’s fucking painful and yet it’s poetic. She screwed me over once and now she’s done it again. No wonder her father hasn’t bothered staying in waiting for her. He knows she’s run away. This whole thing is bullshit. She’s fucking evil.

She’s staring up at me, a weird expression on her face. I only wish she could see me right now. I need her to know how fucking amazing this is, and how she’s just dug her own grave. “Why are you laughing?”

“Why am I laughing? I’m laughing, my darling Sin, because now you’re worth nothing. I have no reason to treat you nice anymore now that there’s not going to be a pay out.”

“There’s the two million reward,” she reminds me, like that’s going to save her now. It’s almost sweet how optimistic she is. Almost, but not quite. She’s pathetic.

“I don’t think you want me to give you back to Daddy for a paltry two million, do you? Not when there’s so much fun to be had.”

She tries to pull away again. I can see the beginnings of a bruise around her wrist. It’s nothing to what her father has done to her many times. I’d have thought she’d be used to this kind of brutality by now. Still, it’s beginning to leave a sour taste in my mouth. There are better ways to break her than using sheer force.

I glance down at my smart watch. An invitation flashes across the screen before disappearing and showing the time. I’m not going to be able to do anything with Mercier and Dacre here. I don’t even know how to turn this to my advantage yet, but whatever I come up with, Dacre will try to stop me. Mercier will want to join in. I’m not willing to let either of those things happen.

I let go and push her away from me. She brings her hand up to her wrist and rubs it. “Get dressed up. It’s about time I got the real Lucinda Waldgrave experience.”

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