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“If you walk out that door, you’re as good as dead, and you know it.”
“I managed to get away from you twice.”
“And I caught you both times.”
“Maybe they won’t.”
Lust swirls in the air between us, clouding my brain with the kinkiest shit I can imagine… all the dark and dirty things I want to do to my future wife to make her feel every bit of pain and suffering I’ve had to endure over these past few years.
And only after she cries and screams and begs me to stop will I reward her with the greatest pleasure she’s ever known.
Her breaths are short and sharp, fear scraped into her expression. She can lie all she wants, but she knows the risks of taking on the underworld alone.
“They will. They always do.”
“I guess you’d know since you’re cut from the same mafia thug cloth, right?”
I shrug. “You could say I’m kind of an expert.”
She lets out a huff and kicks my ankle. I wince.
“That’s two strikes.”
“I hope you can count higher than the number of fingers on your hands. Because there will be plenty more where that came from.”
“Then you really aren’t as smart as I thought.” I dip my head over hers. “Or maybe it’s because you want me to make you suffer. You secretly love my hands on you, and you wanna find out just how far I’ll take these punishments.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She wrenches her arm away from me. “I want you dead.”
“Your pussy doesn’t want me dead.”
“Well, she doesn’t get a vote.” Skyla pushes into me, her knee lifting into a threatening position. I jump backward and let go of her arm.
“I’m gonna pack a bag, and then we’re gonna take off.” I narrow my eyes. “Are you gonna sit down like a good girl, or do I need to tie you to a chair?”
She flips me off and sinks onto the arm of my couch, the one spot that’s clear of any of my stuff. “I’m not sitting anywhere but here because I don’t know what might crawl out of these piles of crap.”
“Relax. I told you. It’s just clutter.”
“Clutter, my ass.”
If she starts talking about her ass, I’m definitely gonna abort mission. So I haul ass to my bedroom, which is actually clean and free from clutter. I don’t like to fuck in a mess, so I keep it pretty neat. And most of the time when I bring girls back here, they’re too focused on other things to notice or care about what the other rooms look like.
I push open my bedroom door and stand in the middle of the floor, fisting my hair as another thought grabs hold of my mind.
What the hell is St. James so deep into that someone wants his kids dead? Alek wasn’t specific about what he’d found out, other than Van Dyne being aligned with Denis Stepanov.
But nobody’s made an attempt to take out Tyson, his brother, or sister.
It’s just the St. James’ kids under fire.
I pull open my closet door and stare at the racks of clothes.
And was Laney’s “accident” really just that? What else isn’t St. James telling his family?
I know all about secrets that can tear a family apart.
Before Valentina’s almost wedding to Denis’ son, Dmitri, none of us knew it was a business arrangement. Val kept Dad’s secret from everyone to protect him and his mission, a mission we still don’t understand. It took years for us to connect some of the dots.
