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“I bet you’re soaked at the thought of me doing that to you.”
She struggles against my hand that holds hers. “Pretty never hides the ugly, and you’ve got ugly down in your soul. It’s something that shines through.”
Her words slice into me, though, slice deep in a way I don’t expect.
This woman has no idea who I am. No one does. And her thinking she understands me at my core pisses me the fuck off.
“And you want to ride that ugly, don’t you?” I ask.
“Let me go.”
I put my face close to hers. “So you can run back to Hendrick? Repor how you got one over Jac Miller?”
“If I’m not reporting to you, I’m not reporting to him. Get over yourself, you fuck.” She struggles again, but I tighten my hold. “There’s one person paying me and that’s you.”
“It’s a favor for that dickhole then? Gratis? How long? How long have you been playing me?” I give her a shake and her eyes spit fire.
“If you think I’m playing you, then why the actual fuck would I be here, Jac?” MG asks. “With, according to you, a fake?”
“To gloat.”
She struggles again. She’s breathing hard now, those sweet fucking tits rising and falling, nipples tight and begging for a man’s mouth.
Mymouth.
A fresh bruise mars her skin right above her right fat, soft pink areola, and another wave of answer crashes over me.
Fucking asshole Hendrick. I hate that he got a taste of her first.
“You’re a smart man, Jac. At least I thought you were. Let’s just say I’m working for him, betraying you as you put it. Why would it be me here instead of him?”
I know why. If he came here and something happened, like I ended up dead—as if he’d be able to pull that shit off—or attacked me, he’d lose his seat at the Quinate table. He needs me to lose my shit and attack him.
Just like I need that from him.
Or at least, since I’m not sure I can pull off him going off the rails, destroy him in other ways. Like take all the women he wants. Like play the game and hire someone like MG Rossi to steal the necklace that means as much to him as it does to me. Only difference there is; the Heart of Dark Desires is rightfully mine.
“Well?” she asks.
“Who the fuck knows? He’s waiting for me to storm his castle?”
“Think about it. If I was going to fuck with you, I’d have built your hopes up over tonight,” she says. “I’d have gone in earlier. Whatever I was going to do, I’d do it with you knowing my every step, setting you up and planting the necklace and then quietly calling the authorities.”
“I own the authorities.”
“Maybe,” she says, trying to throw me off her, “but some things are too big and even those in your pockets will take a free gift. Point is, if I was working with Agnossio, then here is the last place I’d be.”
It’s a pretty story and it’s one with a ring of truth to it, but I still don’t trust her, and I certainly don’t trust him.
I bring her in close, mouths almost touching.
I could squeeze the life out of her. Cut her into pieces and send the choice ones to Hendrick, each with a piece of his fake necklace.
Disgusted, I shove, and let her go.
“You know what? It’s been a long day and I need to wash the stink of Agnossio from me. Don’t fucking leave.”
“Or what?” she asks.
