Inherited Malice: A Dark Secret Society Romance

Getting here hadn’t been a small task.

I’d had to look up Abilene in the white pages to find her address and intercept the limo I knew would be returning for her the next day. That information had been pumped from a former belle prospect who was both bitter about not being chosen and happy to open up after a couple rounds and a hundred-dollar tip. She was on break from her exotic dancing routine and her eyes had gotten round when I produced the cash.

If this was what happened to the belles who weren’t chosen, I was that much more determined to get picked.

So I got myself dolled up the way Tina always used to when she was using me as bait for wallet snatching in clubs—smokey eye make-up and red lips with a pop of gloss. Then I curled my hair and piled it on my head since it was the feature I knew I needed to accentuate for this particular audience of one.

The limo showed up, I came out from beside Abilene’s house where I’d been crouching behind a bush and swanned to the back door like I’d been sweeping into limousines my whole life.

The driver didn’t even say a word, he just opened the door. If he noticed I wasn’t the same woman he’d presented the card to the day before, he didn’t comment. Then again, he barely spared a glance my direction.

How many limo rides and how many women had he seen in his time, I wondered?

I’d gotten myself in the door. That had been part one. Then I endured the doctor’s exam, worked my magic, and voila, now I was here.

Walking up the stairs with my sought-after quarry.

I always got my mark. Always.

I leaned over right as Beau and I reached the top of the huge, grand staircase, “You don’t remember me, do you?”

He almost missed the top step as his head swung toward me, and I smiled coyly. There was no time for small talk, and I knew it. There were the creepy silver-cloaked Elders pressing in on all sides and behind us.

But I’d definitely piqued Beau’s interest. His eyes were on me instead of straight forward as we walked down the hallway just a short way and then were led into a room with an elaborate four-poster bed and antique furniture all around. Beau had barely given me a glance after tearing the pearls from my neck, but now I had his attention.

He leaned over and reached around, yanking the back bodice of my dress open roughly while whispering in my ear, “What do you mean? How would I know you?”

The thrill from earlier skittered all the way down to my toes at his rough treatment of my garment. I mean, good Lord, who hadn’t heard of a bodice-ripper, but to actually experience it… I blinked, embarrassed of the flush in my cheeks as I tried to get back on track.

I was supposed to be the one in control here, not him. Time to tip him back off-kilter again.

“We’ve met before. In a bar one time. You even took me home.”

He arched an eyebrow as he shrugged out of his suitcoat and dropped it to the floor, starting on the buttons of his shirt next with an expert hand. One by one the little buttons popped free, exposing his chest. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt. Because he was a man who liked the expensive fabric of his silk-thread dress shirt right against his skin and could afford the dry-cleaning costs? Or because he’d been eager to get down to business after the choosing?

Had he been looking forward to this part? Fucking some strange woman provided by this creepy fucking secret society as a rose for him to pluck?

I thought about shy little Abilene, the real Abilene, standing here in my place.

Beau Radcliffe would have eaten her alive and spit her out.

Me, though?

He was nothing I hadn’t seen before. Cocky little rich boy? They were a dime a dozen in Atlanta.

I chuckled as I pushed my gown down the rest of the way and stepped free, then stripped down until I stood before him completely naked. I propped my hands on my hips as he finished undressing.

He paused once when he saw me there naked, all but daring him. Daring him to do what, he didn’t know yet.

He thought he was on trial by the Elders. The man had no clue.

He was playing my game.

“Remember me yet?” I asked. “Tits ringing a bell?” I cupped my C cups sensuously.

He narrowed his eyes. “Tits are all the same to me. Sorry, darlin’.”

I fluttered my eyelashes at him. “I can tell I’ve landed myself a real gentleman, huh?” And then I launched myself at him, wrapping my arms and legs around him and taking us down to the bed behind him.