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She glares at me. “If they’re off-limits for me, they’re off-limits foryou.”
I tilt my head. “Is that so?”
She turns to glance at Cerberus. I wonder if she can tell which one bit her leg. She looks back at me and gives me an icy smile. “If you don’t want me to poison your pups, Luca, I suggest you leave them out of this.”
“Hurt my dogs and I’ll gut you like a fish.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t threaten me with a good time. You’re not going to kill me, it would spoil your fun.”
“Let me rephrase, then. Hurt my dogs and as soon as the novelty has worn off and hunting you like game has become a chore,thenI’ll gut you like a fish and dump your carcass back in that cesspit I plucked you from.”
She laughs. She’s an interesting specimen, fascinating to observe. I can tell she’s in tremendous pain—the doctor I privately hired to treat her told me her leg suffered substantial damage and that she would need powerful painkillers while she recovers. I pocketed the painkillers. Ididplan on making her beg for some, but I don’t think she will.
Right now, she must be in absolute agony, but just like earlier in the alleyway, she doesn’t show it. It’s as if her pain is the lake under the thin crust of a frozen surface, and she’s skating across it like it might not crack underneath her and swallow her whole.
“None of this is going to make your dick work, you know,” she says at last.
She might be entirely correct. But if there’s anything in this world capable of getting my cock hard, breaking this arrogant, mouthy disaster of a woman is the closest I’m going to get.
“Don’t underestimate yourself,” I tell her.
“Hah. You better pay me a bonus if I get you hard, you creepy fuck. A dick-fixing premium.”
“If I get hard, Lynch, I’ll fuck the very concept of money out of your mind.”
She rolls her eyes. “Luca, I know for a fact you don’t know how to fuck. Rich guys never do.”
“I forgot you’re such an expert.”
She wiggles her eyebrows, but I can see the way she’s slowly collapsing backwards onto the couch, sweat beading on her forehead. “I’ll teach you, for an extra fee. You might finally find out what a female orgasm looks like.”
“Why make a woman come when you could make her scream instead?”
When I show Willowto her room later, she throws a quick look around and turns to say, “It’s always the people with the most money who have the shittest taste.”
The room looks much like any other room in my home. Dark, muted colours, large windows onto the greenery outside, low lights, clean, stark furniture. There isn’t an abundance of decoration, but there needn’t be.
“I wouldn’t be casting judgement on other people’s homes if I were you, Willow. I’ve seen where you live.”
“I’m not rich, though, am I?” she sneers. “I do the best I can with what I have.”
I don’t reply. Instead, I place my palm to her chest and push her roughly back against the wall. With my other hand, I yank up her black jumper, revealing her flank, where an ugly purple bruise is forming on one side of her ribcage. Tucked in the waistband of her black boxers is the envelope I found earlier when I took off her pants.
“You’re not rich, but you’re not penniless either.” I slide the envelope out of her waistband and wave it in her face. “Where’s the rest of it? I’ve not checked your bra yet, perhaps I should?”
“If you want to look at my tits, just say that.”
I scoff and let her go. “I could do a lot better.”
“Then why don’t you?” She pushes off the wall with a slight wince. “Couldn’t you pay a Victoria’s Secret model to be your fake girlfriend or something? Or are you scared she’d laugh at you?”
Fear isn’t something I’ve ever felt. Not when she tied me to her bed and sliced me up, not when my friend Zachary poisoned me back in Spearcrest, not even when I was a little boy being wheeled into the operating theatre.
Doesshefeel fear? I’m beginning to wonder. I always assumed everyone but me feels it—fear seems such an intrinsically human emotion. But the more I spend time in her presence, the more I begin to suspect Willow isn’t quite like everyone else.
I step closer, invading her personal space, resting a hand on the wall behind her. “A Victoria’s Secret model would look much better on my arm, Lynch, but I enjoy a challenge. Buying something is fine, but stealing it is so much more enticing. I don’t need to tell you this, do I? Where’s the rest of your money, I wonder? I searched your flat, it wasn’t there. And it’s not like you’re spending it; otherwise, your home wouldn’t look like the hole a rodent crawls into to die.”
She shrugs. She makes no attempt to get me out of her personal space, even though she’s in pain, even though I can tell she really doesn’t like me being close to her. Her skin is shining with sweat, and I can feel the subtle trembling of her body.
