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“Marriage is not something I desire. Even for business prospects. Even if I did, there are far better options and matches. Did you really think I would be a cover up? If women are what you seek, you should probably inform your father.”
She seems taken aback but closes her mouth. It’s not public knowledge. I make it my business to study everyone in a room.
“Then will you kill him?” she asks, curling her hands into fists. Annoying. Nuisance. She obviously already knows the intended partner. There is nothing I want from her. She has nothing to bargain with.
A loud chuckle erupts from the bottom floor. I glance over to a table where four businessmen are doing lines of cocaine and women are dancing around them.
“Let’s say I have the means to do such a thing. What is the name and what do I get?”
“Anything I can give you within my means.”
I arch an eyebrow at her desperation. It’s not uncommon from those with old money to be sold off for marriage contracts. Especially the daughters. This is the first woman however, who has asked me to make a hit to avoid it.
“You would defy your father?”
“For my freedom. Yes.”
I rub the stubble on my chin. “The name of this man?”
“Carlos Sloane.”
I consider the gain. What could I possibly take from the Blanchet family that’s rewarding enough to end Carlos Sloane’s life?
Nothing.
“As entertaining as this was, I have to decline both your offers. Don’t waste my time again.”
“Wait but—” Her mouth shuts as I stand over her with an unrelenting gaze. One where I let the mask slip. A reminder although she might’ve been drawn to this side of me, she is way out of her depth to think she can overstep. “Enjoy the night, Camille. You might even want to purchase one of our specialties before your engagement is announced.”
Her fists clench, and tears well in her eyes. I was her last resort. There’s something delightful in playing God.
Camille’s gaze defiantly snaps to Samantha. Even after I’ve denied her, I know she will still place money in my pockets by allowing her fantasy to consume her here tonight.
Now, it’s time I unravel my own little unspoken fantasy. My little stalker is the first who allegedly knows everything about me. I wonder how she might cower when she sees the monster close up again. Last time she couldn’t even move her legs. Yet, she still couldn’t resist coming back.
When my office door is opened for me, I’m greeted with Arabella’s back. She is sitting cross-armed and doesn’t even bother looking in my direction when I enter the room. She’s just death-staring Lorenzo. I suspect if he wasn’t in the room her hands would be roaming through the bookshelves and my desk drawers. Not that I hide anything of great importance here.
“Obsession can lead you into dangerous places, my little stalker.”
Her chin only points higher, more defiantly. I hold in a wicked grin.
I haven’t ever met someone like Arabella. Who, despite being scared of me, still tries to defy me.
“Leave us,” I order. Lorenzo offers a curt nod before leaving the room. I position myself between her and the wooden desk, filling in the small space. I lean against the edge of the desk, blocking her in like the caged animal she is. She’s only an arm’s distance away, and my cock is at her eye level.
As if catching onto the thought, her unnatural striking green gaze defiantly flicks up at me through thick eyelashes.
“We have to stop meeting like this, don’t you think, Ara?”
“Don’t call me that. Only my friends call me that,” she says through gritted teeth.
I can’t help but chuckle, and it seems to only infuriate her more. I lean down and reach out for her, but she slaps my hand away. Just as quickly, I grab the same hand and reach for her throat. She’s startled by the sudden movement as I press my knee in between her legs.
“Well, I think we’re a little more intimate than friends wouldn’t you say?” I offer her a charming smile. Her gaze is all poison and all for me. I wonder how many others see this dangerous expression on this woman who, by day, pretends to be the perfect CEO daughter. By night, the woman is trying to wreak havoc in my life. And I still have no idea why.
I stroke her sharp cheekbone, detailing every dip and curve of her features. It’s her nose that’s different this time. The craftmanship on her face is well detailed. When I look down, I can see the ample swell of her breasts, even under the atrocious, baggy attire she wears.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” I say, tightening my hold around her throat. “Maybe you simply want me to break apart your perfect little world.” The thrum of her pulse picks up under my thumb, and we’re both reminded how easy it will be for me to snuff her life out. This little viper, a woman who should be removed. Yet…even she has value as a pawn.
