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“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere we can be alone.” I pause, waiting for her to fight me. I set a hand on her midriff, caressing her through the stiff bodice. She stiffens, but not before I feel a tremor run through her.
The ice princess is not as frozen as she seems.
I dip my head to nuzzle her hair. Her perfume is complex, something expensive, but underneath is her pure essence. I inhale her scent, greedy for more. I tighten my grip on her, needing to rip off the confining dress. There should be nothing between me and her bare skin. My cock is a steel bar, threatening to rip my pants. Soon I will seek out her damp and secret places, to lick and suck her essence straight from the source.
The car makes its final turn. Up ahead is the bland, five-story apartment building where I make my home. I slide my palm down the curve of her breast, seeking the slight swell of her nipple under the layers of fabric.
She turns from me to stare out the window. Searching for escape? I trace a line from her nipple to the silver chain, pushing the charm aside so I can kiss the smooth line of her neck. Under my lips, her skin quivers.
As the car glides to a stop, my prize asks the question I’ve been waiting for. “Why did you take me?”
“Stephanos told me I could choose my reward.” I touch my lips to her pulse. “I choose you.”
CHAPTER 3
lula
I choose you, he says, like that explains it all. Does he know who I am? My last name is Romano, so he might not know my connection to the Regis family, even if he read the wedding program. He asked for my name, and I gave a fake one—Vera, my mother’s name. A reminder to myself of the reason I’m here. My motivation and purpose. My plan.
Victor’s taken me to an industrial part of town, a concrete jungle. Not a soul is on the streets, and there are barely any cars around. I get a glimpse of the driver as my captor pulls me from the car: male, with a shaved head and a full, bushy beard, his gaze fixed steadfastly forward. Nothing to see here. No help will come from him.
I can’t run. I’ll get about five steps in these shoes before Victor, the knife-loving psycho, grabs me. Better to keep playing this dangerous game.
Stephanos told me I could choose my reward. I have a hard time believing Victor would choose me as his reward, not knowing who I am. But in the backseat of the car, his interest in me had less to do with my pedigree and more to do with my body.
My treacherous body. My face still burns with the heat of my blush. Stop it. Stop crushing on a killer.
Victor’s shadow falls over me. He smells like snow, sharp and fresh and cold. His lips are plump, but the rest of his features—cheekbones, jaw, nose—are too sharp to be human, like he’s a fae king who stepped into our world and made it his winter court.
He puts a large hand at my back, and my skin tingles under my bodice. He raises a white-blond brow with an amused twist to his mouth. He’s waiting to see if I’ll try to run.
But. . . my libido gasps. He’s so pretty. . .
He holds out a hand, and I almost accept it. Stop it!
My body keeps on betraying me as my heel twists under me, and I fall into my captor. He scoops me up in his arms and carries me, bridal style, to the front door. And like a simpering fool, I wind my arms around his neck, feeling safe and secure against him.
To anyone watching, we look like a newly married couple. Is he playing it up for any cameras? Building a case that I went with him willingly?
Probably not. When you’ve murdered as many people as Victor probably has, adding a kidnapping charge is no big deal.
He frees a hand for a handprint scanner to enter the building. A keypad. Interesting. It transforms this boring, concrete block apartment building into a villain’s lair. A hitman like Victor would require nothing less.
The doors open to a sleek, square-shaped foyer, empty of anything but an elevator door and another keypad to enter it.
“Almost there, beautiful,” Victor murmurs, and I blink to keep from rolling my eyes. Just because he’s carrying me like a bride doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten who he is to me. I should be fighting to get away.
Later. Victor is my best chance at getting to Stephanos. Going along with him is as good as infiltrating the Petropoulos gang. I just have to survive.
The elevator requires a third handprint before it takes us to the top floor, the doors opening directly into a dimly lit penthouse. Subtle overhead lights blink on as Victor carries me over the threshold. The air is a few degrees cooler than I expected, or maybe it’s the cold, sterile nature of the decor. Most of the cavernous space is one giant room with gray concrete floors, stainless steel appliances, and white leather couches. Everything is shiny, modern, and spotless. There’s a long table made from a single quartz slab, clean enough to perform surgery on. Victor could kill someone in here and easily wipe up the blood.
Maybe he already has.
“So, I’m here.” My voice echoes in the massive space. “Now what?”
“You know what.” His voice drops to a deeper register, and I want to roll my eyes. Except, once again, my libido is falling for it.
