“Do you know who is responsible?”
“I’m working on it.”
He continued to sip his tea without sparing me a glance. “I assume you mean Theo’s daughter?”
It was a struggle to remain impassive. Grandfather knowing she was the one to steal from us sealed her fate. Mian’s death was as sure as if God personally commanded it. “She’s a person of interest.”
“Meaning?”
“I have her, and she’ll be dealt with when I have answers.”
“You’ve had her for nearly two weeks now. You haven’t recovered the book, and she isn’t dead. Whatareyou doing with her?”
“I’ve interrogated her. Her story remains the same.”
“I see. And how many times have you satisfied your cock while you were interrogating her?”
“I haven’t fucked her, Grandfather.”
“Maybe you should. With your cock’s needs out of the way, maybe you’ll focus on the fact that six generations and our future could be in the hands of the highest bidder as we speak.”
“I’m not fucking her,” I growled. He finally looked me in the eye.
“The anniversary is in two weeks.”
“I’m aware.”
“You have until then.”
“Pardon?”
“Mian will die the night of the celebration, book or no. How painful her death will depend on her.”* * *The front doorcrashed into the wall, but I didn’t stop. I heard the loud echo of my hard footsteps, but I didn’t stop. Lucas and Z emerged from the kitchen with shocked expressions, but I didn’t stop. Nothing but answers would stop me.
I could barely muster enough calm to get the key in the lock, but when it gave, I pushed open the door and was surprised to find her waiting. She looked ready to do battle, and I wouldn’t keep her waiting.
“No more fucking around. Where. Is. The. Book?”
“For the last time, I don’t—”
Her voice trailed off with each foot of space I closed between us. With her throat in my grip, I backed her up until her knees hit the end of the bed and gave out. I followed her down and covered her body with my own. My hips settled between her legs as if they belonged, and I could feel my heart pound in rhythm with hers. We are both so fucked.
“Do you understand what’s going to happen here? You’re dead if we don’t recover my family’s book… you may be dead even if we do.” The truth of my words strangled me.
“What’s the matter, Angel? Are you so eager to kill me or afraid you might have to?” I stared into the jade of her eyes and found myself wondering about the answer. “Be a man and kill me already so you can move the fuck on. I don’t have your book,” she sneered, “and even if I did, there’s no hurt you can unleash, no pain you can cause, no threat that will shake me.” Her head rose from the bare bed and when our lips were in danger of meeting she stopped. “So fuck off.”
The smile I bared snuck up on me, and I could tell it took her by surprise, too. Her shiver shook me all the way down to my cock. I was already moving before I could stop myself. Upon her perfect pink lips, I delivered a kiss of death.
“Then let the games begin.”Chapter ThirtyShe may be Cinderella, but he’s no Prince Charming.
MIAN“I’ve been searchingfor your waistline ever since I stitched my first dress. You could use a little more hips, however…” Madame Torre roughly palmed one of my breasts. “And a little less here.”
I fought myself from prying her fingers from my body. Not when Angel watched me so closely.
“Or I can just love my body the way it is.”
She scoffed and continued to take my measurements. I was sick of being turned and prodded. I woke up that day to Angel’s threats heavy on my mind. His threats weren’t new. I’d even come to expect them, but this time felt different. The control Angel normally possessed was gone.
Even more unusual was when I was taken downstairs where a tall, flame-haired woman, who was dressed for the runway, waited with her two assistants, Ricardo and Ricardo. The first Ricardo was tall and thin with light brown hair styled in a Mohawk. The second man was short and muscular with a thick goatee. Lucas whispered to me when she dismissed me to fawn over Angel, that she never kept assistants long enough to learn their name, so she named them all after her ex-husband. I didn’t know whether to hate her or feel sorry for her.
“Angel, my dove.” I coughed to cover up my laugh. Angel was no dove. “May I see the dress?” She spoke to him, but his attention never left me. He probably heard me laugh. I shrugged and looked away. It wasn’t like he appreciated the name, either. “Ahhh, yes,” Madame Torre cooed. I hadn’t even noticed Z carrying a stunning black gown. “I remember this dress well. This is your mother’s, no?”