Page 98 of Venomous Desires

As she pulled the damn ugly sweater over her head, I watched intently, my gaze devouring every exposed inch of her.

I shrugged off my own jacket, the cool air biting at my skin momentarily before I threw it in her face. “Wear this.”

She fumbled with it, her fingers trembling too much to manage the task smoothly. The jacket dwarfed her, making her look even more helpless, more under my control. The sight was hallucinogenic; every ounce of resistance she had left slowly crumbled away.

“See how simple that was?” I taunted, taking the cigar out of my pocket and lighting it up. I needed my mouth busy. If not for the cigar, I’d end up with her nipples in my mouth. “Cook something for me.”

Challenge me again, and she’d wish she hadn’t.

Her face contoured in confusion, though fear never left, eyes wide as she tried to process my command. She fumbled with the sleeves, looking like a scared child lost in a nightmare. Then, she nodded, a quick, jerky movement before turning and running away to the opposite end of the hall, away from the kitchen.

I rolled my eyes, exhaling a cloud of smoke as I watched her stop near the stairs, the panic evident in her every move. She turned, and realizing her mistake, ran to the kitchen.

The lust in my eyes burned hotter. I wanted to ruin her, to tear apart her fragile sense of security piece by piece. The way her body moved, the way her fear radiated off her, it all drove me to the edge of control.

She was in the kitchen now, clumsily searching for pots and pans. My mind wandered, imagining her on the counter, vulnerable and pleading, my hands roaming her body, claiming every inch of her.

I took another drag from the cigar, the taste bitter on my tongue, but not as intoxicating as the sight of her. I wanted to feel her squirm under my touch, to hear her gasps and moans as I pushed her beyond her limits. The idea of breaking her completely, of having her submit entirely to my will, was almost too much to bear.

She was a canvas for my darkest desires, a toy to be played with until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of compliance.

I studied her, watching her every move, imagining all the ways I would make her mine.

I was still fuming with pent-up frustration for not strangling that fucker who put his hands on her, who didn’t only touch her but smiled at her. At that moment, I never wanted to see life leave someone’s eyes as much as I craved to strangle it out of him. I had never been one to be repulsed by it; in fact, I enjoyed it. There was a strong bloodlust, unlike my brother, and the thought of his smug face contorted in agony was almost too delicious to resist.

Another thirty minutes passed, and I was contemplating walking into the kitchen. But let her dish out whatever she wished to. Now that I thought of it, when was the last time I sat with my family and ate? Probably before the accident, or not once in two years.

Fuck. Time did fly fast. Another drag, and I tilted my headand let the smoke cover me. But not before I get my revenge. Ah. Now that I remember, wasn’t this the reason why I moved back to Russia? I was running out of time. Now that I killed Dontello Maroni, there was less chance the others would want to cooperate. I liked to believe they would bow down before me, but traitors could be unpredictable.

And she was the perfect distraction, a beautiful plaything to keep me entertained while I dealt with the larger issues at hand.

But now, with Maroni gone, the power dynamics were shifting. Allies could turn into enemies in a heartbeat, and I needed to stay one step ahead. The underworld was a game of chess, and every move had to be calculated, every piece strategically placed. And she, this trembling, fearful creature before me, was just another piece on the board. A pawn to be used and discarded as I saw fit.

I threw the bait, and now I was waiting for the prey to take a bite.

My ears perked as I heard familiar footsteps. Kyle. The bastard stopped behind me and extended a fucking file to my face. I raised my brow.

“Information.” Ah. He was fast. I took the file and flipped through the pages, scanning the words written in Russian under the fucker’s grinning photo. I’d enjoy knocking out his teeth. He’d smile wide with his toothless mouth.

My eyes narrowed at his name. Kyle sensed it and muttered in Russian. “I guess we found the lost piece of the puzzle, sir.”

This… couldn’t be this easy, right? I threw the cigar on the table as the information caught my whole attention. Holy fuck. A wide grin teased my lips. “Well, shouldn’t it be celebrated, Kyle?”

Ivan Morozov. Lucius Morozov’s brother, hidden from the world. Well, wasn’t it entertaining how I wanted to kill both brothers?

I could use him to get to Lucius, just like he did to mine.Nothing like a little family reunion to stir things up. And loud utensils clattered in the kitchen, and I shut my eyes. She was the perfect bait.

Lucius had no idea what was coming, but that was part of the fun. The game had just begun, and I was going to enjoy every moment of it.

Chapter 35

The Prey

Embarrassed and scared, I stashed the burnt veggies into the dustbin and eyed the remaining stock. There wasn’t much left now after over-cooking the soup four times in a row. I had a shameful confession to make: I did not know how to cook. In my defence, my mother never taught me, or simply, I never wished to learn. I could do other chores though—washing, laundry, cleaning, mopping, or even repainting the whole house—but cooking? I couldn’t fix a sandwich to save my life.

And now, I was saving my life.

If this kept up, I hardly thought Judas would let me leave after emptying his fridge and ruining three of his pots.