Page 76 of Beautiful Villain
“Archie,” she replied, flat and fearless.
She was not getting into that car unless I made her.
I leaned forward and touched my driver’s shoulder.He understood immediately.
The door flew open.He moved fast, cutting her off before she could take another step.The cuffs snapped around her wrists.She screamed then, raw and furious, kicking and twisting as he dragged her back, but he might as well have been a wall.He shoved her into the seat and slammed the door.
The locks clicked.
The sound was very satisfying.
“I trust your time at Villa Cavalho was comfortable,” I said lightly.
She did not answer.
“Do your worst, Archie,” she said quietly.“Death right now would be more than welcome.”
I blinked.
It was interesting that she would say such a thing.
I leaned back as the car eased forward, the road unspooling beneath us, the city lights ahead flickering like a promise of something ugly and inevitable.My thoughts moved fast, lining up theories, testing angles, turning over every possible explanation.
What had happened in that house?
Gianni Cavalho was many things.He was careful.He was precise.He was brutal when the moment demanded it.He treated control like a belief system.But he was not sloppy.He was not the kind of man who broke women for entertainment.He did not hollow them out and send them wandering back into the world like wreckage.
That particular vice, I reflected, belonged far more comfortably to me.It was practically a hobby, and one I pursued with real dedication.
We drove on in silence.I did not press her.There is a rhythm to people when they are afraid, and she had already stepped outside of every one of her comfort zones.I watched her reflection in the dark glass as fields slid past, her eyes fixed on nothing at all, as if her body were here but the rest of her had already left.
That quiet disturbed me more than any screaming ever could.
She did not cry.She did not plead.She did not even look at me again, like I had already faded into the background.
For the first time since I had ever taken notice of Mikayla Gregory, I was not entirely sure what I was dealing with.The uncertainty crept in, slow and sharp, and to my surprise I did not push it away.It felt strange.It felt new.
The corner of my mouth lifted before I could stop it.
Whatever Gianni Cavalho had taken from her, I intended to fix it.I would take her apart carefully, piece by piece, until I understood exactly what was missing.I had always been very good at figuring out how things worked once I broke them open.
And if what was left of her couldn’t be put back together?
Well.
That had never stopped me before.
32
Mikayla
Istared out the window and watched the distance stretch wider with every mile.
Trees blurred past.Roads unfolded.Turns I didn’t recognize and refused to claim.Each one felt like something being torn loose inside my chest, the space between me and Gianni widening until it stopped being distance and became something permanent.Something final.
I had gone and fucking fallen in love with him.
That was the real crime.Not doubting him.Not leaving or choosing to stay.But loving him.Letting him get so deep under my skin that the thought of existing without him felt like punishment.
