“Which you did,” Mal pointed out.
She didn’t react. “He kn
ew I was infatuated with him, and he’s such an egomaniac that he easily believes I still adore him no matter what he does. It’s one of his few weaknesses.”
“So why did he marry you? He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man to fall madly in love.”
“I have no idea. Maybe he liked the idea of being in love, and I was infatuated enough for both of us.”
“Does he fuck you?” He was trying to make her uncomfortable, but she gave no sign.
“No,” she said coolly. “He doesn’t like illness, or deformity, or anything less than physical perfection. It’s part of his OCD tendencies. He hasn’t even demanded a blow job.” She said the words deliberately, giving away her discomfort. Otherwise she wouldn’t have needed to prove how unmoved she was.
“Too bad. You could have bitten off his dick.”
“Not tempting,” she said.
“I could also drown you.” He continued their earlier conversation, preferring not to think of Sophie and fucking in the same scenario. “Either the pool or the ocean.”
“You’d have to figure out how I managed to get downstairs when I’m supposedly in a wheelchair,” she pointed out. “You could say I asked you to bring me down for a swim but then you fell asleep and I disappeared. It’s a little lame, but it might do.” She gave him a dulcet smile. “Just trying to be helpful.”
He wasn’t going to give her a reaction either. “Very thoughtful. I could say you crept in here for sex and I thought you were an intruder and shot you.”
She considered it, then shook her head. “Weak,” she judged it. “For one thing this room is two steps lower than the balcony, and the wheelchair wouldn’t make it down. I suppose I could have flopped on my belly and crawled over to you like some Persian mistress, but then you wouldn’t have shot me.”
“I could shoot you in the doorway.”
“You wouldn’t mistake me for anyone else when I’m in my wheelchair. Besides, Archer wouldn’t have let you on the island with a gun.”
“And you think Archer always gets what he wants?” he countered softly.
He saw the slight flicker in her eyes as she digested the fact that he was armed. She pretended to ignore it. “You could strangle me and say it was rough sex. Archer would love that.”
“But then I’d have to fuck you.”
The words were out in the room like a physical thing between them, and he could feel his dick getting hard. Death had never been a turn-on for him, but the thought of screwing Sophie Jordan was enough to overshadow the discussion of murder.
She wrinkled her nose in disdain. “On second thought I’d rather drown.”
“I don’t know that I’m giving you a choice in the matter.”
She was looking at him out of those warm, dark eyes. That was another tell of hers, one he didn’t bother to point out to her. Those pansy-brown eyes beneath the dark, arched brows gave a lot away, and that was always the hardest thing to control. He was doing his best to keep the barriers of distrust and contempt a powerful wall between them, but if she stopped thinking about herself and the mess she’d made—if she really looked at him closely—she’d probably realize she was safe. He didn’t kill for pleasure, and he avoided collateral damage whenever he possibly could. Not that she was collateral damage, he reminded himself as his eyes drifted over her. She was a traitor, a royal fuck-up, and by the standards of the Committee she deserved everything she got.
He shrugged. “I think I’ll let you live for the time being.”
Her face showed no reaction. “Are you sure that’s wise? After all, maybe I really am still desperately in love with Archer. If I told him about you, it could get me back in his good graces.”
“You trying to talk me into it?”
He could see the way her mind was working. She was considering whether she should egg him on into trying, evaluating her chances of success. Since he’d just taken her down in hand-to-hand, and she had no other weapons at the moment, it would be a waste of time. Apparently she realized it too, so she shook her head. “I wouldn’t want you to jeopardize your redundant mission by having to explain my dead body.”
“Redundant?” he echoed.
“You’re not going to kill him. I am. Then, if you’re really butt-hurt about the whole thing, you can always kill me and take the credit.”
He wanted to smile. She didn’t give an inch. “It’s a thought.”
“We’ll see who gets to him first.” She slid off the bed, her body strong, fluid, moving past him, almost daring him to touch her. And he wanted to, so damn badly.