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She rubs the back of her neck. “I know, but it’s scary to think that my social media exposed me to the whole world and left my enemies a trail of breadcrumbs.”
The tremble in her voice makes my heart sink. I know she’s thinking about Dolly, Delta, and her degradation.
“Don’t blame yourself.” I give her a comforting squeeze, wanting to remove her regret and replace it with resolve. “The drugs you were taking at the time affected your judgment.”
She blows out a long breath, releasing a fraction of her tension. “True.”
I wait for her to say something else, but she remains silent.
“Do you want me to bring in Dr. Saint?” I ask, my chest tightening with concern.
She shakes her head. “There’s no point. All she ever did was keep me medicated under my mom’s orders. I don’t want her harmed, because she did help me get away with killing Mr. Lawson and the Reed brothers.”
“You remember them now?”
“Vaguely.” She raises a shoulder. “I remember going to a college party and dancing with Sparrow. Then Wilder joined us later with drinks. There’s a gap, then the next thing I remember is calling Mom from a dorm room with two dead bodies.”
My brow furrows. This is a breakthrough, but forcing her to unearth a trauma she might not accurately remember could ruin the surprise I set up for my little ghost. Tonight is about moving forward. We can talk about her time at college in the morning.
Deciding not to poke at that memory, I park beneath a sprawling olive tree and help Amethyst out of the car. We walk alongside rows of grapevines, their leaves rustling in the slight breeze, until we reach the French doors of a summer house overlooking the lake.
Opening the doors, I guide her into a spacious living room lit by a crackling fire. The table is set with a selection of Vinzent’s wines and an elaborate charcuterie board piled with cured meats, cheeses, olives, pickles, and freshly baked breads.
“I hope you brought your appetite,” I say with a reassuring smile.
Amethyst freezes in the doorway, her eyes wide with wonder as she takes in the surroundings. I had planned an elegant evening reminiscent of the wine tastings I enjoyed in France, complete with a gourmet spread and Vinzent’s finest bottles.
“You arranged this for me? It’s beautiful,” she whispers, her voice breathy with awe.
“I wanted to give you a break,” I say, my heart soaring at her happiness. “Just for tonight, let’s forget everything outside this vineyard.”
She steps further into the room, her gaze sweeping to the fireplace before settling on me. “Is there a bedroom?”
My brows rise at her boldness, and sensation surges to my cock. “Are you trying to seduce me, little ghost?”
Closing the distance between us, she places her palms on my chest and murmurs, “Maybe I am.”
SEVENTY-EIGHT
AMETHYST
Xero gazes down at me, his pale blue eyes burning brighter than the fire. He might be surprised at my forwardness, but I’m not the same person I was even last week.
It’s just like he said—I’ve furthered his cause and faced down a handful of my former abusers. The trauma of my past feels distant, replaced by the satisfaction of retribution. Each confrontation has stripped away the layers of my old self, leaving me stronger.
He steps closer, his hand cupping my cheek, his touch both gentle and possessive. “Are you sure about this, little ghost?”
“You’ve teased me for long enough.” I turn my head to press a kiss to his palm. “When you gave me that toy, all I could think about was how much I wanted the real thing.”
Gaze flickering with desire, he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his erection. Its length and heat and girth soak into my belly, making me swallow back a groan. Heat rushes to my core, which clenches in anticipation.
With his thumb, he traces the line of my jaw before sliding it onto my bottom lip, sending shivers down my spine.
“This is a dangerous game you’re playing,” he growls, his voice a husky whisper. “You know the way I fuck… I’m not a gentle man.”
His words hang in the air, a dark promise that makes my pulse race. Tremors course through my core, and my pussy becomes slick with arousal.
“I can handle three fingers. Why can’t I handle you?” My voice comes out more challenging than I intended, even though I need him to push my limits.
