My slap is deafening, my palm against his skin exploding. And not because it stings. But because . . . contact. He hardly moves a millimeter. It’s like hitting a brick wall, and he has the exact same reaction as I did when he slapped my face.
No reaction at all.
Retracting my hand, we stare at each other for a while, until he eventually downs the last of his drink, never taking his eyes off mine. “Just like someone I used to know,” he murmurs.
His riddle frustrates me. Yet I do what I’m so good at: hide my emotion. Although my curiosity can’t be held back. “Why do you want the marina so bad?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“Since you’ve taken me as security, I’d say it is my concern.” I have no idea where this boldness has come from. I’m playing the devil’s advocate.
His eyes flash, as if hell could be right there in their depths. It probably is. “I don’t discuss business with the latest whore I’m fucking.”
I barely hold back my inhale. “You haven’t fucked me,” I point out, doing nothing but making him smile. It’s probably not escaped his notice that I didn’t refute his other label. Whore. That, I am.
“You want to change that?” he asks.
“No.”
“Liar.” His hand is around my throat in a split second, and a second after that, I’m pushed against a wall with his gorgeous lips practically brushing mine. Not reaching forward and tasting them takes more willpower than I ever thought I’d need in my life. His hold of my neck isn’t hard. I can breathe perfectly well.
But I can’t.
He flexes his hips forward, making sure I feel his condition past his trousers. “How would Perry feel if I plunged my cock into that sweet cunt of yours?”
Fuck.
He’s solid. Throbbing.
My stable mind scrambles for a few moments, trying to remember what he just asked. How would Perry feel? Devastated. He thinks I’m his. But I’m not. And I can’t be Danny Black’s either, not in any capacity. No matter how turned on he has me. It’s fucked-up. He’s callous. Cruel. I’ve never lusted after a man. Never wished with every fiber of my being that a man would fuck me because I wanted him to. It’s always been done out of necessity or because I was forced. But now. Oh, now. It’s backward. Of all the men I’ve encountered, I should be scared of this one the most. But the only fear I feel anymore is fear for my son. I only know how to survive and to ensure his survival. And I will survive.
I’m unintentionally reacting to Black. Not just externally for him to see, but internally for me to feel. I don’t feel. I don’t know what to do with feelings. I’m trying to hide it, yet I’ve no doubt he’s detected my swallows against his palm where he has me pinned by my throat.
He eventually releases me, stepping away, giving me space I didn’t ask for. Then the slow formation of a smirk spreads across his face before he turns and walks out. I’m left staggered that he manages to leave, because I’ll be damned if I could have. He paralyzed me. The energy between us was . . .
No.
I look around the room, wondering . . . what now? My answer comes quickly. I open my purse and get my phone to let Nox know that Perry, apparently, has a new funder and Black has him held to ransom. Oh, and that I’ve been taken as security until Perry delivers on the marina.
I find “Mom” in my cell contacts, but my thumb doesn’t make it to the call icon before my phone is snatched from my grasp. I look up and find Black glaring down at the screen, and my heart starts beating a mile a minute.
“Mum?” he asks. “Will she be worried about you?”
“No,” I answer truthfully.
He spends a few moments going through my phone, glancing up at me every now and then. My face remains straight. I’m not worried. He won’t find anything. Then he slips it into his pocket, and I’m suddenly very worried.
“You’re taking my phone?” Shit. No, he can’t. “Am I your prisoner?”
He moves in closer, breathing down on me, and my stomach cartwheels like crazy. I swallow. I move back. And he closes the distance I’ve gained, his face coming closer and closer and closer.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head.
Black immediately halts his advancement, eyeing me with . . . I’m not sure what. Then he turns and walks away, and I exhale, my usually stable nerves shot. “Let’s call you my guest.” He takes the handle of the door and strolls out. “Sounds more humane.”
The second he’s out of sight, I flop down onto the bed.
Fucking hell. What on earth happens now?
Chapter 5
DANNY
* * *
Fuck, this wasn’t part of the plan. No second chances, and taking his lover is a second chance. I’m blaming it on grief. And the fact that I need that marina and Adams in power. Good God, Adams has had more chances than all the men who have wronged me put together. But I need that marina.
I sink back into the chair on the terrace, trying to focus on business and not her. I don’t even know her fucking name. The moment I sat at that card table, I felt eyes on me. It’s not unusual for many eyes to be on me, but this time I didn’t sense fear in a stare. My skin wasn’t cold. It was blazing. I sensed something other than fear. I sensed fascination. And that only fascinated me, more so when I found the source of the stare.
Her.
“Business,” I growl to myself. Perry Adams is trying to worm his way out of my clutches, and something tells me it isn’t because he wants to go legit. And the stupid fuck thought I’d just let this go? I should have shot him across that fucking card table. Probably would have, had something else not got my attention.
Her.
She moved gracefully. She glided. Her legs go on for days and carry her body with a beautiful elegance. Not forced. Not practiced. It was natural and spellbinding. She could have been floating, and it’s ironic since she’s so obviously weighed down by something. Her face, however impassive, radiated a cruel beauty that made me pause what I was doing for a moment and try to absorb it. Forcing my eyes back to the table took an inner strength I’ve never had to call on before. And then Perry’s man fucked up and grabbed her violently, and she didn’t move a whisper. I saw the brutal hold from meters away, saw his fat fingertips puncturing her delicate flesh. She was completely unmoved by it. Untouched and unbothered.
And I know it wasn’t only because her attention was rooted on me. I started that card game knowing I was going to lose. I started knowing what I was going to take when I lost. Perry’s wife. I had men lined up to fetch her from her charity trail in Cambodia, just to help her stupid husband along the path to sense. Things changed the second I saw how he looked at her. Perry’s in love with another woman. The feeling isn’t mutual, that’s very clear from her complete lack of reaction to Perry denying he knew her. Ice princess. Regardless, she’d be useful. A pawn to me. A means to get what I want.
I toast my conclusions on another swig of my drink.
When the door on the terrace slides open, I look up and find Brad. He closes it behind him and joins me, handing me a cigarette. “At the risk of you shooting me, what the fuck?”
I smile, only because Brad is the only man on this planet who I would hesitate to kill. “We need the marina, and I want that twat in power.”
“But the woman? You know the rules, Danny. We don’t deal in anything that clouds our judgment. Drugs and beautiful women cloud our judgment.”
“Only if you develop an attachment or addiction.”
Brad glances at me, not saying anything but saying everything. “So, what now?” he asks.
“Now we watch Adams. No one suddenly decides they want to go legit, especially when they’ve taken my money.” I light the cigarette and pull in a long inhale, staring at the stick as I blow out a cloud of fumes. I need to fucking quit. I can hear Pops in my head warning me. Threatening me with my life. “Watch him while he’s here. We’ll head back to Miami when Adams does. We have the shipment coming in next week to the
boatyard. We need to be ready.”
Brad nods, twiddling with his cigarette between his fingers.
“Spit it out,” I prompt, hearing his mind racing.
“It’s been over a week, Danny,” he says tentatively. “The priest is asking about the funeral arrangements.”
The priest. A man of God. A man who is an advocate of the seven commandments. We’re sinners. Not saints. My father wasn’t religious. Part of me wonders if his wishes are a sick goodbye joke. And another part of me wonders if the money he’s churned into the church over the years was his way of gaining absolution for his sins.
“Everything my father wants is listed in his last will and testament. I’ll send it to Father McMahon.”
Brad nods and stubs out his half-smoked cigarette. “Get some sleep, Danny. You look like shit.”
Sleep. What’s that? I haven’t slept properly for six months, passing the night hours watching over my father. He’s not here to watch over anymore. But I’m still not sleeping. I growl under my breath, frustrated by the pang of hurt in my dead heart. That damn man is the only person who can make me feel anything in the muscle that keeps me alive. It beats. Steadily. Always has. But it doesn’t feel.
My thoughts drift back to her. It didn’t beat so steadily when I had her against the wall.
I sink deeper into the chair, bringing the cigarette to my mouth and watching the end burn away as I pull a long drag. The glow of amber feels like the only color in my fucked-up black world. And on that thought comes another. Her red dress. Against that olive skin of hers, it looked like the most perfect color combination I’ve ever seen. Her dark hair is almost alive with shine. Her lips like rosebuds. Her cheekbones high. But her eyes? Those dark blue eyes were dead. Her reaction to Perry’s man grabbing her sealed it. If I was any good at cards, she might have put me off my game. It’s true what I told her. I’ve known someone like her before.
Me.
Taking her phone from my pocket, I hit the screen. No picture. No photo. Just the standard factory setting screen saver. Who doesn’t have a picture saved as their home screen? Everyone has someone—their kid, their lover, their mother. Everyone except her.
And me.
The screen prompts me for a code. I need to get one of the men to unlock it. Flicking my cigarette butt off the balcony, I stand, sliding the phone into my pocket, but it chimes, stopping me. I lift it back out. A text. From “Mom.”
* * *
How are you, darling?
* * *
I swipe left and get the option to reply or clear. So I reply.
* * *
Good. You?
* * *
I keep it simple, and I don’t add a kiss, since her mother hasn’t. The response is quick.
* * *
Good. Call me when you can.
* * *
“She will,” I say to myself as I slide it back into my pocket and head into the penthouse. When I make it through the lounge area to the bedroom, the woman isn’t where I left her. I’m not concerned; she’d have to be Houdini to escape this suite. I follow my feet to the bathroom, hearing the tap running. I don’t knock, striding straight in.
Her eyes flick up to the mirror where she’s standing, her hands halfway through securing her long hair into a ponytail. Her position exposes the tanned flesh of her neck. My eyes root there.
“Some privacy, please,” she says, turning to face me. She’s taken off her heels, exposing red toenails that match her dress. Why I’m noticing this trivial shit is beyond me.
I ignore her and walk to the toilet, unzipping my trousers as I go. I pull out my cock slowly. I see her gaze drop to my groin. I hear her breath skip.
And I piss, one palm resting on the wall behind the toilet, the other holding my dick. I take my time, casual, aware that I’m being studied. And when I’m done, I wipe, flush, and turn to face her, still holding my cock, her gaze stuck there. I can hear her breathing. It’s shallow as I stand, exposed to her, watching her take me in. The girl has some high walls up, but I know she couldn’t turn away if she wanted to. And she doesn’t. For the first time ever, I’m amused. She’s going to be fun to play with. To torture.
Her hands meet the vanity unit behind her as I walk forward, pulling a stroke down my thick shaft. Her aroused condition only enhances mine. I’m firming up in my hand.
When I reach her, I take one of her hands and wrap it around my solid cock, and I don’t feel one hint of resistance. She inhales. I do too. But I say nothing, starting to instigate her strokes, my body wanting to instantly spin her, bend her at the waist, and fuck her brutally.
Her hand. My dick. Fuck.
Her mouth goes slack. Her tongue dashes out, sweeping her bottom lip. For someone trying to convince me that she finds me repulsive, she looks and feels pretty turned on right now. I could take her. She wouldn’t stop me. She’d fucking love it. I’d love it.
But she’s not here to enjoy herself. And she’s not here for me to enjoy, either. Would I? Enjoy her rather than feel like I’m scratching an itch? “Feel good, baby?” I ask on a whisper, and her eyes narrow a little, her gaze never leaving mine. Her hand flexes a little, getting a firmer grip, and my lips part, my breaths shallow.
“I don’t know, does it?” she counters, licking her bottom lip.
No. I thrust her hand away and tuck myself in, backing away, ignoring how fucking hard it is to do that. That vanity unit is calling for me to bend her over it. Every muscle I possess is straining with the pressure to withdraw. But though her eyes are begging, she is not.
Yes, this is going to be fun. Or fucking kill me. “You’ll sleep in my bed,” I tell her, watching in amusement as her stoic façade falls and her eyes widen, just a tiny bit. “Naked,” I add.
“And you?” she fires back.
“I’ll be right there beside you, baby.”
She somehow manages to keep the shock of my declaration contained. She’s good. “You’re not touching me.”
“Who says I want to?” I force my lip into curling, looking her up and down.
I see hurt in her eyes. It throws me for a moment. Until she speaks again. “Good, because I wouldn’t let a murdering bastard like you touch me if my life depended on it.”
Bastard.
Heat flames in my veins, and before I know it, I’m across the room with her neck in my palm, my face close to hers, my lip curling. “I’d rethink that claim.” I release my tongue and lick slowly across the seam of her lips, and her chest presses against mine, her soft breasts pushing into my hard pecs. “Because your life actually does depend on it.” I slam my mouth on hers and kiss her hard. No tongues. Just hard, forceful lips, and she whimpers. Not in pain. She whimpers in want. And just as I feel her open up to me, I pull away. It takes everything in me and more. And that’s not acceptable.
She’s panting when I reach for her ponytail and fist it, tilting her head back. “You’re not much of a challenge when you’re so easy.”
“Fuck you,” she breathes, jarring her head, instigating a brutal yank of her hair. Then she smiles. It’s full of satisfaction, and I return it. It’s in that moment I realize that I’m not only a challenge for her.
She’s a challenge for me too.
A challenge to resist.
Chapter 6
ROSE
* * *
The gravity of my situation suddenly hits me. I’ve always been pretty fucked up, but now I feel utterly fucked. Just fucked. I’m the guest of Danny Black. I couldn’t fuck him if I wanted to, which I don’t. If I did, I’d be jeopardizing everything. Risking everything.
I have no phone. I’m supposed to be with Perry Adams, and Nox will be waiting to hear from me.
There’s only one way this is going to turn out.
Messy.
My stomach rolls with dread. I will be punished. I can take the beating, always do, but the pictures of him that I know will stop? They keep me going. They remind me why I’m in this hell. What will I do without them?
Without seeing him and marveling at how much he has grown since the last time I was rewarded with a photograph. Granted, those rewards aren’t frequent, but knowing they could come at any time drives me. “God, Rose, what have you done?” I should have kept my eyes to myself. Should have stayed well away. I slowly slip out of my dress.
Danny Black’s physique is intimidating fully clothed. Naked?
I push my panties down my thighs and drop them on a nearby chair with my dress. Then I brace myself to climb into the huge bed. The irony doesn’t escape me. Of all the hard things I’ve done and still do, getting in this bed is one of the hardest. It’s massive. We could probably go the entire night without touching. Yet I know he’s going to make that impossible. He’s going to torture me in a way I’ve never been tortured before. And I’ve been on the receiving end of some pretty brutal punishments in my time.
It’s going to be a long night.
But I’ll survive it. It’s what I’m best at. Survival. As well as screwing.
Screwing. What would it be like to screw . . .
No. It would never be worth the risk, even if I know beyond doubt that fucking Danny Black would be an experience worth enduring. Because I’d be fucking him and wanting to.
“Jesus, Rose.” I quickly realign my thoughts. The man’s a killer. I need my head checking.
I settle and pull the sheet over me as the door opens and he enters. I close my eyes, escaping the magnificent vision. How attractive he is, how attracted to him I am, only makes me hate him more. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s pretty much signed my death sentence.
“Open your eyes.” There’s demand in his tone that I know I shouldn’t ignore. So I do what I do best. What I’m told, though with Danny Black it’s a challenge when it should be easy, given his reputation.
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