Pretty Sinner (The Oligarchs)

He glanced back at me, and something in his gaze said I should know the answer—but I was clueless.

“We have a past. Prepare yourself, Redmond. I will make sure you uphold your end of the bargain.” With that, he strode out.

I hurried to catch up. His men came after me, looking like they wished they’d gotten the chance to fire those weapons of theirs. Boys and their stupid toys.

Kaspar stood in the crisp Rome evening and took several long breaths. He continued walking, but slowed his pace and allowed me to reach his side. He looked sideways at me, eyes hard and impossible to read.

“I shouldn’t have let him rattle me like that.”

“Why did you then?”

“You know why.”

I shook my head, trying not to let him see my discomfort. The image of Redmond lying on the floor with glass dug into his face would haunt me for a long time.

“I don’t understand what you see in me, Kaspar. I’m not worth any of this.”

“You don’t have to understand.” He stared at me then gently touched my arm. I tried not to flinch back, but he must’ve noticed my hesitation. Still, his fingers lingered. “Redmond doesn’t deserve your pity, you know.”

“I don’t feel sorry for him. A few scars will do that spoiled brat some good.”

Kaspar laughed sharply. “That’s why I like you. You’re stronger than you let on.”

“If you like me for my strength, then why do you keep me locked up?”

“Because you need to be given time to understand that what you think of me is wrong.”

“What do I think of you?”

His fingers tightened and he pulled me closer. “You think I’m a murderer.”

I stared into his eyes. My pulse leapt into my throat. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

He moved closer, his lips inches from mine. The man was gorgeous, and I stood enraptured with him and hating myself for it. If I really were as strong as he believed, I’d shove him away and run. I’d do anything but look back at his gorgeous eyes and let my vision linger on his slightly parted lips and that tongue right behind his teeth—

I’d do anything not to remember what I gave to him and how it felt, all those years ago.

“I’ve done horrible things, but I’ve always had a good reason.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s why I won’t let you go.” He moved his mouth to the side of my neck, near my throat, and kissed me gently. I sucked in a breath and stayed frozen, afraid that if I did anything, it would only provoke him further.

Or that was what I told myself. Fear kept me in place, but also something else—a longing that I’d ignored, kept buried deep, deep down for a long, long time. Ever since Blackwoods, I never let myself remember what we did together, that one perfect night. I couldn’t remember, because as soon as I did, I might see Kaspar as a human again, instead of the monster I knew he really was.

“Taking me as your prisoner isn’t going to get you what you want.”

“No, but killing Maeve will. And in time, I think you’ll understand why.”

“I don’t get what she has to do with any of this.”

He touched my lips with his thumb. I shivered with pleasure and disgust and anger and lust.

“You will.”

He kissed me then, deep and passionate, and all those long-buried feelings surfaced, reared their heads like unwanted nightmares, and I kissed him back, moaning into his mouth as he pulled me close against him, massive and strong and unyielding, Kaspar the killer, Kaspar the stalker, Kaspar the lover. He tasted like honey and flowers and heaven, and I hated him for it, despised him for the way he treated me like I was a thing he could have, instead of a person he could love.

I bit his lip and shoved him back. He sucked in a breath and touched his lower lip, smiling as I stormed away. He followed, but at a distance, and didn’t approach until I calmed down. I sat on the edge of a fountain, breathing hard, people milling around and ignoring the pissed-off American girl that kept staring at the water like she wanted to cut it into pieces.

Just like I wanted to tear Kaspar into shreds.

He sat down next to me and put a hand on my thigh. I didn’t push it away. I felt so alone and lost and angry that any small gesture—even from the man that caused all this—was welcome.

“We’re going back home soon.”

“Back to Servant Manor?” I felt a strange thrill of excitement.

“Back to America.”

I deflated. “Right. Of course. You can’t let me anywhere near my brother, can you?”

“Not yet. But one day, I hope I won’t have to worry about that.”

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” I shoved away his hand angrily. I felt like a petulant child. I wanted him to kiss me again—to shove me back against the fountain and fuck me right here in the damn street. “What do you see in me?”