Page 22 of Mine
‘I will kill him.’ I promise, as a murderous rage rises like a tsunami inside me.
‘I don’t condone murder.’ She shifts in her seat. ‘But in this instance, I think removing him from the planet is a public service.’ She exhales heavily, tilting her head. Her eyes linger on mine. ‘No one has done anything to keep me safe since…’ She throws a hand up in the air… ‘I don’t know when.’
‘You’re safe now. He’ll never find you here. And if he’s stupid enough to look, I’ll blow his brains out before he crosses the front door.’ I’m not even joking. ‘It’d be a shame to make a mess on the paving, but I have an incinerator in the garage and a power washer in the shed that would take care of that. Now, how about dessert?’
Her cheeks visibly pale. Fuck. I’m supposed to be trying to put her at ease, which means keeping the beast inside under control.
I flash her my widest smile and reach for her plate.
‘I’ll clean up.’ She stands immediately, her hand drifts out to stop mine, and those same sparks crackle and surge over my skin. Our eyes meet, and she pulls back, but not before I glimpse a startled mix of hunger and horror in her eyes. This strange, intense chemistry between us makes her uncomfortable.
Interesting.
‘You won’t.’ My tone leaves no room for debate. ‘Relax for a few minutes. Have another glass of wine. Then we need to get down to business.’
‘Business?’
‘The wedding,’ I remind her before heading to the kitchen
Ten minutes later, I return to find her staring solemnly out over the pool. I place a bowl of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food in front of her.
‘Gangsters eat Ben & Jerry’s?’ She scoffs.
I shrug. ‘You like it?’
‘I prefer the Chunky Monkey. My friend Abby and I used to get it at the cinema.’
I store that little piece of info away for another time—her favourite ice cream flavour, and her friend’s name.
‘So, when will we wed?’ She runs a finger along the stemof her wine glass. Naturally—because no matter how hard I try, I am a self-professed filthy bastard—I conjure an image of her finger running over my cock. I force it away and answer her question.
‘25thJuly.’
I watch as she gnaws on her lower lip. ‘That’s only a couple of months away.’
‘It’ll give us enough time to plan it properly, and to introduce you to my family before we announce our engagement.’ Some of them, anyway.
Kavanagh will likely strike hard and fast. His ego will make sure of it. Especially with the wedding venue I have in mind. I drag my knuckles over the stubble dotting my jaw. ‘I’ve provisionally booked The Shelbourne as a venue.’
Surprise lights her eyes and she laughs, really laughs this time. The sound is utterly fucking beautiful as it floats to my ears. ‘That’s one way to provokehim.’
I like that she doesn’t use his name. What I like more is the rare few times she’s used mine. It sounds positively perfect falling from her tongue.
‘You won’t run out on me, will you?’ I’m only half joking.
‘As long as you keep your word.’ I don’t need to ask which one.
‘Sweetheart, I’ll never force you into anything.’ I wet my lips. ‘But if at any point during our marriage you decide you want to address the frankly feral attraction pulsing between us, just say the word.’
It’s the first night and I’m already pushing for more when I swore I wouldn’t.
But that’s just what I do—in business, in life, at the sex club.
I push limits.
Mine and everyone else’s.
But I’m not supposed to be pushing hers. I can’t tie her up, tease her, suck and fuck her until she screams my name. She’s too valuable to terrify with my kinks.
