Page 34 of Then We Shatter

I punch my hips forward and bury my cock to the hilt in one thrust. I keep one hand on her pussy while the other covers Katarina’s mouth to muffle her cry. I’m as deep inside her as I can get, but we press against each other anyway. We’re the perfect fit. “Perfect.”

“Claim me, Killian McConkey,” Katarina rasps as her hips rock between the force of my cock and the fingers rubbing circles around her clit. “I’m yours. Only yours and I’d kill any man who tried to take what belongs to you. But if you ever doubt me again, I’ll stab you in the heart.”

My spine tingles with the urgent need to fill her. “Damn it, Kitty, you say the sweetest things,” I hiss as I rail into her. “I don’t know how the hell we got into this mess or how we’ll get out, but I’ll be damned if we don’t get to enjoy our chaos for as long as we can.”

I’m lurking on the opposite side of the street to the restaurant where paparazzi gather around the entrance. They’re waiting for the money shot of the Russian oligarch’s daughter who’s snagged herself one of Chicago’s most eligible bachelors, the story as clean and polished as the Moncriefs themselves.

Sweat gathers beneath my wig, but it’s the thought of another man wining and dining my woman that makes my skin itch. And the fact I’m standing here like a fucking idiot letting him. Duke’s about as closed off as they come, but if anyone can thaw the ice in his veins, it’s a woman with fire in her blood. I’d be mad not to consider him a threat.

Danyl appears first, and while he’s shoving the paparazzi out of the way, I cross the street. The crowd grows as more people stop to watch the spectacle, and I slip amongst them unnoticed as the rapid fire of camera clicks grows louder. The photographers are jostling for position, waiting for Katarina to appear, when Danyl grabs one by the collar and swears at him in Russian.

The next face to appear is one I don’t immediately recognize. Unlike Danyl with his buzz cut and black leather jacket, this guy wears a suit, but he’s definitely security. Duke’s had his own minder for a while and this must be Max.

As he scans the crowd, I slip on my sunglasses and position myself behind a couple of tourists, stepping into the background when I want to be up front and center. I have to settle for looking over their shoulders when the most beautiful woman to grace god’s earth steps out into the early September sunshine. My heart skips a beat. The lime green dress she’s wearing was hiked up around her waist not two hours ago while I fucked her. Not once, but twice.

I can’t stop looking at her gloriously long legs, imagining my cum still damp between her thighs, so I don’t notice Duke until he slides an arm around her waist. The colossus of a man is taller than Katarina, even with her heels. Bastard. He’s matched his blue suit with a baseball cap and reflective sunglasses, and keeps his head down. He doesn’t want to be there. On that we can agree.

My jaw aches with the effort of not yelling for him to remove his fucking hand before I break his fingers. I knew I shouldn’t have come. In no version of this was I not going to be pissed off. My agony is self-inflicted, but I had to see it for myself.

The seeds of doubt Malachy planted just keep growing. It’s in Katarina’s DNA to use charm to build trust and exploit willing victims. Her half-brother, Ilya turned similar family traits into an international trade. Kitty knows how to play a role for men. She was trained for it. Was Duke convinced to take on the role of her fiancé as a favor to the Griffins? Or was it seduction on Katarina’s part? Has she been lying to me? Or have I turned into an insecure love-struck fool who’s shit-scared of losing her?

Jealousy is a new concept for me and it fucking sucks.

My sweet assassin is currently snarling at Danyl, forcing him to unhand the trembling photographer. Her fury is a sight to behold, but once she has the situation under control, her demeanor changes in the blink of an eye. Her snarl is now a dazzling smile she aims at the cameras.

Duke is eager to get to the waiting car, but Katarina grabs his lapel and forces him to pose alongside her.

“Katarina, turn to Duke!” one fucker shouts, turning it into a photoshoot. “That’s it. Perfect! Now, let’s see that ring sparkle.”

I hate that fucking diamond, and if I ever get the chance, I’m going to crush it to dust.

“How about a kiss?” someone shouts.

And now it’s Duke I’m going to turn to dust if he so much as…

Duke ignores the request and pulls Katarina away from the photographers towards the limo. Still, I don’t relax. Where will he be taking her next? Anywhere he fucking wants is the answer because Duke Moncrief was born into the right kind of family.

Gentleman that he is, Duke helps Katarina into the car, then stops to talk to Max. Danyl, who’s been joined by Andrey, are left to hold back the photographers, but my focus is on the limo.

When Katarina lowers her rear window to check on the hold up, I step away from the tourists. I’m done hiding. I want to remind Kitty she belongs to me, but as I’m checking to make sure I’m not in anyone else’s line of sight, I notice Max’s expression change. Thankfully, he’s not looking at me and when he mouths the word, “Fuck,” I follow his gaze to a woman standing only a few feet away. She’s in her twenties with dark, shoulder-length hair, and she wears a look of abject horror.

My gaze ping-pongs between the woman and Max, who’s alerted his boss to whatever’s going on. Duke’s reaction is hidden behind his sunglasses, but when he says something to his bodyguard, Max immediately starts walking towards the woman. His steps are casual and unhurried. He doesn’t want to draw attention. Nor does Duke as he goes to speak to Danyl and Andrey, circling them so they put their backs to Max. The woman clocks the bodyguard on her tail and spins on her heels before breaking into a run.

Interesting.

I’d follow, but I’m more interested in Katarina. She’s watching Max too, but senses a fresh pair of eyes on her. I lift my sunglasses and wink. She keeps her scowl fixed on me as the tinted window rolls up again.

Duke gets into the limo and it’s left to my imagination to picture what’s happening in the back seat of the car. I know what I’d be doing if I was with Katarina, but I’m the one left standing in the middle of the sidewalk as she disappears out of sight. I want to kill someone so badly right now. Fortunately, I have just the person in mind.

If the guy hears my footsteps echoing his, he doesn’t sense danger. He assumes wrongly that he's the one to be feared tonight. He’s been following Shelley since she left the salon after closing, and he must think it’s his lucky day when she turns off the sidewalk and into a narrow alley. It’s squeezed between tall tenement blocks, crowded with industrial-sized garbage containers and litter. And otherwise, deserted.

The walking corpse picks up his pace, gaining ground on Shelley. He’s unconcerned that she can hear his approach. He wants her to turn, and when she does, it must surprise him that she doesn’t look alarmed. Even if Shelley had been alone, she knows how to defend herself. She’d put up a good fight, but tonight, she doesn’t have to. I grab the creep by the scalp, bringing him to a stumbling stop. He doesn’t retaliate, not with the knife pressed against his throat.

“Apologize to her,” I growl. “Tell her how a lowlife piece of shit like you doesn’t deserve to live.”

“P– Please. I– I wasn’t… I just…” My knife presses harder and it’s a squeak when he adds, “I won’t do it again.”

“That you won’t.”