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“Challenge accepted, my little cat,” I say.
NINE
MAGDALENA
The glittering upscale club’s restaurant is filled with money and all the hot side pieces money can afford.
We’re on the edge of New Town, the kind of place where anonymity is crafted. There’s no photographers or gossip hounds, but this is where you’d come if you want certain people to know.
My first thought as we walk in is Jac. But as far as a “fuck you” goes, this isn’t going to even cause a blip on whatever fucked-up radar Jac has. And after having the two of them… I take a breath and my stomach curls in.
But this isn’t about sex or games like that. Not really. No, this is about the jewels and my kidnapping. The threat against Hendrick and Jac.
The Heart of Dark Desires.
I checked my phone right before Hendrick took it from me, as I don’t have a bag to go with the dress. He’s got the burner, too.
Harry had sent a message. She had checked that my locket and ring were still there—code that she couldn’t find the Heart of Dark Desires.
It’s still a blank spot in my memory, a blur when I concentrate hard. I have no idea what I did with it.
“What’s going on in that twisted brain, Cat?”
“Your demise.” I smile. “Tell me, do you prefer knives or poison?”
He leans in. My clit lights up with a thousand sensations, and I moan. Then it stops and Hendrick grins back as we head to our table in the middle of the restaurant. “Death by cunt, if you must know. If you want to suffocate me while sitting on my face, I’m up for that challenge.”
“Now?”
“This is what I like about you, Cat. Your adventurous, slutty side.”
“And here I thought that was all of me.”
He kisses me, tongue sliding along the seam of my lips, and my clit starts to buzz again. Then it stops. “You come in shades, Magdalena. Shades.” He looks at me. “Drink?”
“Sidecar.”
“I’m disappointed. No sex on the beach?”
“I’ll offer you a slippery nipple,” I murmur.
He laughs softly. “I’d prefer it if you offered to drink a cum shot.”
“I thought I did that, already.”
His mouth quirks. I’m not sure what Hendrick’s about to say when a discreet waiter comes over to take a drink order as we wait on our table.
The fact we’re even waiting isn’t lost on me. No one would ever make a mafia boss wait, let alone a member of the Quinate. This is deliberate, and I lowkey look around but no one’s looking our way.
“See anything?” he asks, voice low.
“I didn’t think we were standing here because your table wasn’t ready and no.”
“Keep those eyes on the lookout.”
Our drinks arrive, and he’s both aloof and commanding, making sure I’m close enough to him, touching me when he feels like it, making my clit buzz when he doesn’t. That damned full feeling is accompanied by an empty one in my pussy, and the buzz is just enough to put me on edge, but nowhere near enough to bring me close to orgasm.
This is torture. Pure and unbearably complicated.
