Page 242 of Dirty Pleasures


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I studied him for a moment longer, searching for any sign of deceit, any flicker of the old obsession in his gaze.

But all I saw was resolution, and perhaps a hint of fear.

Good. You should be afraid.

“Remember, Boris.” I closed the small space between us and placed my hand on his shoulder. “There is your mahogany casket to think about. I bought it for you with the purpose of filling it. Sometimes I dream of your body being inside. Your mother weeping. Her tears spilling onto the polished wood. And then I smile and go to sleep.”

He swallowed hard.

I held his gaze for a few more seconds, letting the silence stretch between us and allowing the weight of my violence to press down on him too.

Then, I spoke, “Boris, I allowed you to live due to Emily and Lunita, but my patience. . .it is a very small, thin line. Cross it, and the foot that hovered over the line, will be the foot that your mother finds at her doorstep.”

Boris’s bottom lip quivered.

Lunita says one for one. She will also learn that she cannot tame me either.

I left Boris there.

The things I do for my mouse.

Frowning, I walked over to the other side of our bed.

This new arrangement was unconventional, to say the least. A bedroom full of men while we slept was far from ideal, but then again, nothing else would keep Emily happy about staying with me tonight.

And I would not let her sleep away from me.

Plus, this was Emily, my mouse, and for her, I would defy any norm, break any rule. . .have a bunch of fucking idiots stand over me as we slept. . .

Gritting my teeth, I glanced at the other men stationed discreetly by the window.

It will be fine, even if Lunita appears. It will all be fine.

Slowly, I climbed into the bed, careful not to wake her up.

The mattress dipped under my weight.

I lay down on my back and stared up at the ceiling. My body ached from the fighting. The frown remained etched on my face as the events of the evening replayed in my mind.

Questions without answers danced at the edges of my consciousness.

When will the sicarios make their move? How fast will we destroy our enemies?

I turned my head to look at Emily and watched her sleep.

An aching tenderness filled my chest.

You have me crazy in love with you, mysh. How will I focus on this war, with your sweet milk dripping from those sexy nipples?

My cock jerked in my pants, and my heart warmed.

This love for my mouse, it consumed me. It drove every deadly decision, every violent action. She was my heart, my soul, the very air I breathed.

I knew the dangers of what we were doing tonight—with her sleeping with me—so many risks.

Lunita was a force of nature—unpredictable and wild.

But Emily, she was the other half of my soul.

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