“Filthy words for such a pretty mouth.”
The deep, accented voice slides across my skin like silk and wraps itself around me, a shiver skating down my spine. His grip tightens, palms moving until they brush my upper arms. My hands are still pressed against his chest, the black fabric of his suit soft under the pads of my fingers. My breath stutters as he sucks me into his gaze, his eyes like cerulean glass, an almost haunting chill to their beauty.
I break our stare, finally letting his words filter into my brain. “Excuse me?”
He smirks, and I take in his high cheekbones, a natural highlight falling on the sharp angles, contrasting harshly against his jet-black eyebrows and tousled hair.
My stomach clenches as I realize just how attractive this man is.
His mouth descends until it’s next to my ear, his breath trickling down my neck, making heat spike through my core. “I said—”
“No, I heard what you said,” I cut in. “My question was rhetorical.”
He leans back, a slow smile spreading across his lips, his thumbs rubbing up and down in a rhythmic motion against my bare skin. “Oh?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
My chest tightens as I glance around, taking in our surroundings. Dozens of people, and yet, it feels like he’s the only one in the room. His energy crackles through the air, desperate to cling to his skin. This man screams power, and for a split second, I wonder what it would be like to dive into his brand of trouble. To live without limits, just for a while.
Ridiculous.
Shaking my head, I step back, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. “Okay, well, this has been...”
“A pleasure,” he purrs. He moves into me again, grabbing my palm and bringing it to his lips, skimming them back and forth in a whisper of a kiss.
My heart skips. “I was going to say strange, but sure... a pleasure.”
Taking my hand away, my stomach twists. I almost feel disappointed to be leaving him, and the feeling is unsettling. I move to walk around him, but he grasps my arm, pulling me back until I feel every hard line of his body against the soft curves of mine. Gasping, I freeze in place. This man—this stranger—touches me like it’s his right. Like I’m his to touch.
“Don’t I get to know your name?” His voice rumbles against my neck. My legs squeeze together from the deep timbre of his voice.
I’ve never had somebody handle me the way he is. Never had someone like this give me their attention. It’s both infuriating and intoxicating, the strange mix of emotion making nerves sizzle underneath my skin.
Blowing out a breath, I try to stem the tremble in my voice. Maybe it’s the champagne, or maybe it’s the man himself, but the urge to be a different kind of Wendy has my tongue loosening before I can stop it. “No. I don’t think you’ve earned it.”
I wrench my arm from his grasp. “And for the record, these pretty lips will say whatever the fuck they want.”
His eyes flare, and the corner of his mouth twitches, but he doesn’t speak again. Just puts his hands in the pockets of his three-piece suit and rocks on his heels, his gaze searing through my back as I spin to walk away.
4
James
My heart slams against my ribs.
Wendy Michaels.
I know her, of course. The daughter of the man whom I’ve been keeping tabs on since I was eleven years old. Her father stashes her in the dark now that she’s older, most likely to keep her safe from the unsavory side of his business, but when you’ve lived your life following a man’s legacy, you learn everything about him, including the shape of his shadows.
Which is why I’m not sure how I missed that he was moving here.
Still, I’ve never begrudged the offspring for the sins of their father. We’re all a byproduct of evil, some of us born into it and others created from circumstance. However, if the universe is placing her in my palms, the least I can do is handle her properly.
My cock lengthens at the thought of driving inside her until she breaks, leaving wounds that scar with the reminder I was there. Tarnishing her innocence and then tossing her at her father’s feet, a defiled version of the girl he bred.
Delicious.
I’ve watched her from the moment she walked into my bar, recognition stealing my breath; clarity that the grainy resolution of our security footage didn’t allow me.
A smile creeps on my lips as I walk back to the office, where I’ll continue to follow her through the cameras. The thrill of the chase thrums through my veins, anticipation of catching her sinking into my bones.
The truth is, things have been rather boring as of late. I’m salivating for something new to sink my teeth into, and Wendy Michaels is the perfect pet project. I’m giddy at the thought of taming her until she purrs, then sending her back with a new master controlling her leash—a beautiful harmony as I conduct the symphony of Peter’s destruction.
Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I slide into the leather seat behind my desk, typing in Wendy’s name, watching as articles flash across my screen. My stomach tightens with excitement as I read of the love for his daughter.
“His little shadow.”
Fitting nickname, I think. After all, one can’t leave their shadow behind without missing it sooner or later.
A gruesome image of me thrusting inside of her on top of his remains, my cum dripping from between her thighs and mixing with the pool of blood beneath us makes my cock jerk violently, a groan ripping from my throat as I palm my aching erection.
This won’t do.
Pulling out my phone, I send a text to one of the cocktail waitresses on staff tonight, Moira, telling her to stop what she’s doing and come find me. Now.
Clicking out of the articles, I pull up the security feed, satisfaction burrowing in my chest as I see her sipping champagne and trying to act as though she belongs.
She doesn’t.
Not here, and certainly not with the pathetic group of girls she’s with. Her innocence shines like a beacon—a sparkling jewel in the midst of trash—bait for my darkness to come and smother it whole.
The door clicks open and shut, the tall, scantily clad body of Moira sauntering toward me, a smirk on her ruby red lips.
“Hook,” she breathes, walking around the oak desk. “I’ve missed you.”
I allow a soft smile to play across my lips, ignoring the way her voice grates against my ears. My hand brushes a strand of black hair behind her shoulder, cupping the back of her neck and pulling until she’s centimeters away, her moist breath skating across my skin.
Her head jerks. “Sorry, new tattoo. Still kind of sore.”
“On your knees.”
She drops dutifully, her manicured palm rubbing over my length, her mouth pressing kisses against the fabric. My teeth grind, annoyance lancing through me from her poor attempt at foreplay. I palm the back of her head, fingers wrapping around her hair as I jerk her face upward. My free hand presses against her jaw until I feel the indent of her teeth through her skin, my thumb smearing the red paint off her lips.
She flinches, her cheeks smooshing as I grip her face tightly, causing a spike of pleasure to skitter down my spine. “This suit is cashmere, sweetheart. Don’t sully it with three-dollar stains, understand?”
She gulps and nods.
“Good girl.” I pat her cheek before lowering her head back to my lap.
My gaze swings to the computer, watching the true object of my desire. And as Moira’s hot mouth surrounds my cock, slurping along the shaft and sucking me down her throat, my eyes stay locked on the cameras, imagining the day where I’ll have Wendy in her place.
And I’ll make her choke on something truly filthy.
“Still alive, I see,” I deadpan, as Ru waltzes through the office door.
“Alive and never better.” He grins, walking to the tan globe that houses his brandy and pouring himself a glass.
“I take it that means the meeting went well?” My brows rise, noting the time. It’s only been a few hours.
There has been an anxious energy pricking at my insides while I waited on his return. Regardless of Peter Michael’s squeaky-clean image, I know he’s a dangerous man. I also know Ru sometimes lets his temper get the best of him, and even though I’m thankful nothing nefarious happened, I still wish he would have let me accompany him, if only to ensure his safety.
I haven’t mastered the art of propriety, only to lose my composure at the first sight of Peter. I would have remained calm. Shook his hand and looked him in the eye as I imagined all the ways I’ll enjoy bringing him a torturous death.
Ru sighs, sinking into the black couch against the wall, sipping from his tumbler and grabbing a cigar. “The prick never showed up. Sent some kid to do his dirty work, like I’d put everything on the line for some two-bit punk.”
A strange sense of relief floods my chest. “Absurd.”
“Disrespectful,” Ru spits.