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Shit, is someone there?
Standing quickly, I push my chair back and go to investigate, but there’s no one. I’m being paranoid because I know Dom will kill me if anyone discovers his secret.
Chapter 41
Domenic
I’ve come to the den alone to get away from everyone.
My father is driving me crazy with his wedding talk. Who gives a shit about the fucking speeches? The whole thing is a joke. The other two Devils are pissing me off with the way they keep trying to push me toward letting Mackenzie stay.
My dick is onboard with the idea. He’d gladly let her stay. My mind, not so much. Unlike Kirill and Tino, who are both letting desire cloud their judgment, I can see clearly. We don’t love her, and she most certainly doesn’t love us. Hell, I don’t even like her. I like her body, and her beautiful, perfect face. I might, deep down, admire her a little bit because she’s damn brave, but like her? Want her around forever? Fuck, no.
Still, would it hurt to not send her packing right away? I stare at the projection screen. There’s some ancient nineties movie playing, and I’m only half watching it. My mind is in turmoil. I should make her leave. Fuck up the wedding somehow and ensure she and her trash mother never darken my door again.
But. But. But.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want another taste of her. I want to sink inside her again. To hear her cries and see her come undone. Mackenzie has this air of serene superiority about her a lot of the time. Not in some bitchy way, but as if she really is descended from royalty. Hence her nickname. Get her hot and bothered, though, and she’s a carnal animal. I find the juxtaposition incredibly sexy.
I’m half hard now and contemplating putting some porn on when the door groans as someone pushes it open.
I turn, my mouth half open, ready to blast Tino or Kirill for interrupting me, when Verity walks in. Her hair looks better—she must have gone to a professional to have it tidied up. We purposely forbade her from going to a hairdresser and getting it sorted into something cool and edgy, instead of the hacked into horror it was.
I eye her suspiciously. “Did you fuck with your hair?”
She slinks into the room, and my hackles rise. She’s wearing a strange smile. A purely evil one that drips poison and means she’s contemplating something awful.
“You said no hairdresser, baby,” she simpers. Her whole façade is dripping with false sugar. “None of you said I couldn’t mess about with it myself. I colored it ash blonde and cut it a little myself and used some gel.”
I stand abruptly and stalk over to her. Grabbing her hair in my fist, I pull her nearer to me. She gasps and tries to hold my hand to stop the burn on her scalp.
“We said to leave it the hell alone. That hair is your punishment. You don’t get to turn into something cute.”
She stares at me, her eyes burning with something I’ve never seen there before. Verity has always been a bitch, but she’s not a brave person. Not like Mackenzie. She’s a bully, and she’s underhanded. Shit stirring, bitchy asides, and catty comments are her stock in trade, and with me there’s always been a deference in her body language. A submissiveness in her gaze. It’s gone now.
“I thought you were so strong,” she murmurs.
What the fuck is she talking about?
She trails a finger over my shoulder and down my arm. I let go of her hair because this version of Verity is confusing me. Not sure how to react, I let this play out.
“I thought you were the most powerful one here. A god, if you will. It’s why I let you get away with shit. I must align myself with powerful men because, as a woman in this sick, twisted little world we inhabit, I have none.” She spits out the word twisted, her face contorting. “But you lied to me, Dom. You aren’t what you pretend to be, are you?”
“You ought to be careful, Verity. I can ruin you.”
“You could,” she says with a vicious little smile. “But not before I ruin you. I can bring your whole world crashing down.”
I watch her, completely taken aback by this woman, the real one who has been hiding behind a façade for so long.
“Or,” she says as she lets her fingers trail over my chest, “we could be friends again. I could help you. Maybe more than friends.” Her hand rests over my heart. “I could accept your faults. Your weaknesses. If you could accept mine. Together, we could be strong. Powerful. A unit few would dare try to harm.”
I sigh as if bored, but my heart is racing. This is weird. Wrong. I don’t know what she’s talking about, but it can’t be good. Does she somehow know I’m developing a soft spot for Mackenzie, despite my best intentions?
“There is no us, Verity.” I sneer at her, hoping she’ll get the message and leave me alone. Whatever this game is she’s playing, I want no part of it.
Her face transforms from pretty, bland girl, to something ugly and filled with a malice I didn’t know she possessed. I always thought her nastiness was a survival mechanism, but this Verity is much more vicious than I ever understood.
“All you stupid men, thinking you rule the world,” she says softly. “You can’t handle it, though, can you? Any of you?” She walks farther into the room. “You know my father? He goes to prostitutes and pays them to beat him. The powerful mafia enforcer.” She barks out a laugh. “Thing is, if my mother stood up to him about it, he’d hurt her. No one knows. They all think he’s this formidable, infallible figure.”
