His Little Red: A Possessive Dark Romance (Mayhem Ever After Book 1)

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His Little Red: A Possessive Dark Romance (Mayhem Ever After Book 1) Page 6

by Vivi Paige


  To my surprise, the Big Bad Wolf burst out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Why would I lie? What would I gain from it?”

  “A PowerPoint? Seriously?”

  “PowerPoints are useful ways to present information. That’s what you’re going to get hung up on right now?” Nothing in that presentation prepared me for this.

  “Did the presenter get any of it right?”

  “The chain part lives up to its reputation.” To punctuate my point, I shook my ankle. The chain rattled against the chair leg. “Everything else is… not what I expected.”

  “At the end of this kidnapping, I’d request that you fill out a short survey so we may improve our kidnappings in the future.”

  I wanted to laugh. Lord help me, I wanted to laugh, but I held it in. “You didn’t happen to get any alcohol, did you?”

  “For me. Not you.”

  “Rude. I’m knocking points off for that.”

  “Somehow, I think I’ll live.” His smile was unfairly charming. “What do you want for dinner?”

  Chapter Nine

  I swept past the thoroughly unrestrained—with the exception of an ankle chain—Scarlett and headed into the kitchen. When I returned, she had a suspicious look in her green eyes that seemed to suggest fear of a reprisal for her escape attempt.

  “Here,” I handed her the sack. “I got you a few different dresses. Should be a little warmer, and cover more, than what you have on now.”

  “Or more aptly, what I don’t have on,” she peeked inside the bag with visible distaste. Her gaze rose sharply to meet my own. “You picked these out?”

  “Yeah,” I said cautiously. “What’s wrong? Are they ugly?”

  “No,” she arched her crimson brows, her cute face adopting a pleased expression. “Actually, they’re really pretty. You’re good at picking out girls’ clothes, Big Bad Wolf.”

  I grunted noncommittally and headed into the kitchen. “I’ll keep my back turned if you want to change.”

  “Haven’t you pretty much seen everything I have anyway?” she called from the living room.

  I dropped a package of chicken breasts on the floor, cursing my sudden clumsiness. A memory of her naked pussy sprang unbidden into my mind, and I had to shake my head in an effort to clear the images.

  “That was incidental, part of the job,” I called back. “I won’t take advantage of you in that way.”

  “Oh, incidental?” Her voice teemed with stiff resentment. “I see. So, when we were dancing, and I rubbed my ass all over your cock, it got hard for incidental reasons? And that make out session—that hot as all hell make out session in the quiet room—that was incidental and meaningless, too?”

  I thought, What in the hell is her game? But her voice seemed so sincerely hurt that I had to do something.

  Peeking my head out around the door separating the kitchen and living space, I found her staring at me with venom in those emerald eyes. “I admit there were some blurred lines there.”

  “Blurred lines?” she laughed. “You were mauling me in that quiet room. Are you that good of an actor, or was there some chemistry there? Because I wasn’t acting.”

  My mouth went suddenly dry, my mind practically broken by her line of inquiry. Again, I tried to convince myself this was all an elaborate ruse on her part, an attempt to get me to let my guard down long enough so she could escape.

  Yet, she seemed so sincere, so… enticing. I couldn’t help myself with my response.

  “There was chemistry,” I growled like the Wolf she called me. “There is chemistry. Do you want me to say that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that quiet room since we left? Because I can’t.”

  A smile spread across her lips, and she stood up with a rattling of her ankle chain. “Good. Believe it or not, that makes this all a lot easier.”

  She reached down and lifted the hem of her outfit over her head, exposing her naked body to me fully for the first time. My jaw dropped open, and I grew instantly, painfully erect before I forced myself to turn away.

  With shaking hands, I struggled to unpack the rest of the groceries. The image of her freckled, gloriously curved body remained stuck firmly in my mind’s eye. The rattling of chains from the other room seemed to suggest she’d finished dressing and sat once more, but I resisted the urge to peek.

  As I selected an appropriate-sized saucepan, I again heard the rattle of her chain as she walked to the door of the kitchen. There was enough slack that she could make it all the way to the floating island. When I turned to face her, she wore the calico dress I’d purchased for her and a wide smile on her freckled face.

  “So, what’s on the menu? Steak and potatoes? Raw meat? A helpless little bunny? How does the Big Bad Wolf sate his hunger?”

  I glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “Chicken parmesan with sautéed mushrooms and asparagus, and cannoli for dessert.”

  Her green gaze widened as she leaned her elbows on the island and fixed me with an inscrutable gaze. “Wow. Color me impressed. Mind if I watch?”

  “You’re already watching,” I pointed out.

  “Mmm, yes, but you’re in charge here, not me.” She batted her eyelashes. I wondered if that was even true or not. Scarlett had a power over me that was both profound and irresistible, no matter what I may have told myself.

  “You can watch,” I answered lamely, turning away from those smoldering, intense eyes.

  “What are you doing?” I heard a hint of alarm in her voice.

  “I’m making dinner.” I didn’t turn around.

  “No, you big goof, I mean what are you doing specifically? To the chicken?”

  I frowned, looking away from my task. “I’m marinating it in buttermilk for a few minutes. Breasts don’t have much fat, so I’m trying to ensure the meat is succulent and moist.”

  Scarlett pursed her lips and then grinned. “Some breasts have a lot of fat.” She leaned back and gestured toward her double D rack.

  Sweat beaded on my brow, and it had nothing to do with working over a hot stove.

  I went back to work, setting down two glass casserole pans and then three bowls. Flour for a dredge went into the second bowl, while breadcrumbs went in the third. I cracked four eggs into the first and beat them into a slurry.

  “You look like you actually know what you’re doing.” Scarlett sounded impressed. “Don’t tell me… you had to do this kidnapping to pay for your culinary school.”

  I laughed, actually laughed, for the first time in what felt like forever. Part of my mind screamed that I was letting her inside my head, but I ignored the voice. It was easier and easier to forget that Scarlett was my captive. That was a dangerous line of thought, but at the time, I was having too much fun to stop myself.

  “No. I’m not so lucky to have had high-level training. My nonna used to babysit me when I was kid, and since I was a real handful, she put my ass to work in the kitchen. Kept me out of trouble, and I learned to cook. Fair trade.”

  “You were a real handful?” Her eyebrows arched over those lovely green eyes. “I have a hard time believing that.”

  I set the asparagus into a strainer and sprayed cold water on it for a rinse before I answered. “Why is that?”

  “Well,” her eyes rolled skyward as she considered her words. “I guess you’re so disciplined and controlled. At least, when you’re not mauling a half-naked girl at a rave party.”

  I dropped the colander into the sink, fortunately avoiding a spillage of its contents. Scarlett laughed. “Struck a nerve, did I?”

  “You know, I can always put the ball gag back in,” I muttered.

  “Who says that’s a deal breaker?” she teased.

  I glanced sharply at her, but honestly couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not. I decided there was no path forward to victory and instead changed the subject. “Do you have any food allergies?”

  She seemed taken aback by the query, her smile fading. “Ah—not that I know of. I pref
er to avoid things with high fructose corn syrup, but other than that, no.”

  “I won’t purchase anything with that junk in it.” I was firm on that. “I had a friend in basic training who used to swill fruit punch by the gallon. He wound up having an ulcer on his tongue.”

  “You were in the Army, huh?”

  Fuck. I cursed myself silently for my stupidity. Some chick shakes her titties, drops some innuendo and I lose my fucking mind?

  “What’s wrong?” she asked after seeing my sour expression.

  “Nothing,” I lied, shaking my head. “Yeah, I was in the armed services. Fucking cake walk after the house I grew up in.”

  “Rough childhood?” She watched as I chopped the bad spots off the asparagus.

  “Not really. I never wanted for anything, except maybe parental approval. I was expected to be smarter, faster, and hit harder than the other kids my age. Even a one hundred percent on an exam wasn’t enough to please my father.”

  “What?” she asked, laughing. “What could be better than a hundred percent?”

  “He just said I should have done the extra credit.” I chuckled as well, spreading my arms out. “It didn’t make sense to me, either, but I know he was just pushing me to be the best I could be. Isn’t that what parents are supposed to do?”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Scarlett sighed, eyes growing distant. “My father, well… he never expected much out of me. I guess he thought I would be a debutante trophy wife, but I wanted something more for myself.”

  “Maybe your podcast isn’t as much about gun control as it is finding your own path, different from your father’s?”

  “No,” she shook her head and frowned. “I mean, yes, partly, but I really do believe what I say.”

  “I can’t agree,” I replied. “I mean, if you’d had a gun, I never would have been able to snatch you.”

  “Think so?” Scarlett put her arms akimbo and fixed me with a stern gaze. “Even if I’d had a gun strapped to my thigh or wherever, you could still have overpowered me with ease before I could use my weapon. In fact, statistics show that the majority of the time when someone tries to use a gun for self-defense, they wind up dying at a higher rate than unarmed people.”

  “I don’t doubt your statistics, Scarlett.” I shook my head. “I do know I feel a lot better when I’m packing heat.”

  “Yes, but you have a dangerous livelihood,” she chuckled. “Kidnapping nubile young women and dragging them off to your beach house.”

  “This isn’t my normal gig.” I was unsure why I felt the need to explain that fact.

  “Really? You’re quite efficient.”

  “I’m doing this for my family obligations,” I replied, checking the temperature of the olive oil in which I was intending to fry the chicken. “It’s not something I enjoy.”

  “Who’s your family? The mob?” Another chuckle from her. When I didn’t answer, she got really quiet and swallowed hard. “Oh my God, it is the mob.”

  “I never said any such thing.” We’re not the mob, for the record, but we do a lot of business for them.

  “That’s exactly what a mobster would say,” she said cryptically, arching her eyebrows. It took several moments to realize she was messing with me.

  Scarlett wound up helping me bread the chicken, and then I laid it into the pan carefully. The asparagus and mushrooms went into a skillet with a mix of olive oil and butter. Contrary to popular belief, butter burns at a low temperature and I didn’t want that bitterness contaminating the food.

  “This smells fantastic.” Scarlett’s belly growled so loudly I could hear it over the frying chicken. “You’re very accommodating for a kidnapper, Wolf.”

  “Like I said, this isn’t my usual gig.” I turned about and fixed her with a somber gaze. “I’m sorry about all of this. None of it is your fault, all right? If I had it to do over, I’d have told De—I’d have told them to go to hell. But I didn’t, and here we are.”

  And there I went again, almost spilling my guts. Hell, I was spilling my guts. I tried to tell myself I was just using Scarlett as a sounding board, an impromptu therapist. After all, she was a safe listener. She didn’t even know my real name, or who I really was.

  Yet, in my heart, I knew that was not the case. I was talking to her because I liked her. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stow those feelings like I wanted.

  Then dinner was ready. We sat down to eat, and I had no more time to pore over my thoughts.

  Chapter Ten

  “Holy shit.” I couldn’t help but moan as I sank my teeth into the most delicious chicken parmesan I’d ever had in my life. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. It had to have been before I got ready to go to the rave. How many hours had passed since then?

  “Good?” He flashed a small smile.

  “Are you kidding me?” I mumbled, my mouth full. I didn’t give a rat’s ass if I appeared unladylike. What was my kidnapper going to do? Judge me? I’d like to see him try. He didn’t have a leg to stand on. “This is fucking delicious.”

  I took huge bites until my plate was cleaned. “Is there more?”

  “A girl with an appetite,” my Wolf grinned. “How refreshing.”

  “Let me clear something up for you.” I set down my knife and fork and propped my elbows up on the table. “All girls have appetites. For some bullshit reason, we’re taught to hide it even though it’s literally a basic human function. So, when some dudebro says he likes a girl with an appetite, it’s actually condescending as fuck.”

  “Did you just call me a dudebro?” He looked like he didn’t know how to handle anything I’d just said. “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “Dudebros are the kind of idiots who think having a mother and a sister automatically makes them a feminist,” I explained.

  “And you think I’m one of them because I like the fact that you eat?”

  “Yes. Every single human being eats. It’s not a compliment.”

  Shit. I shouldn’t mouth off to the man who kidnapped me. I mean, I’d been giving him shit (rightfully so) since he’d snatched me, but everyone had their limit. I did not want to find his.

  “However,” I cleared my throat, “this is the best chicken parm I’ve ever had.”

  “Does that cancel out the dudebro comment?” His smirk made my stomach do a funny little flutter. I told myself it was nothing more than anxiety. It definitely wasn’t attraction. No way. Not a chance. Absolutely fucking not.

  “We’ll see.”

  “Maybe you’ll change your mind when you taste my tiramisu.” He winked.

  God, he was hot. Why did he have to be so good looking? Under different circumstances, I’d be all over him. Hell, before I knew he was a bad guy, I was all over him.

  “Did you make some?” My eyes went wide.

  “No,” he chuckled. “It’s tricky to make. I’d rather do it in my own kitchen. This oven is kind of a piece of crap.”

  “You cook a lot when you’re not kidnapping rich women?”

  “When I can,” he replied without missing a beat. “It’s the only way I have full control over what I put in my body.”

  There’s something I’d like to put in my body. I couldn’t stop myself from forming the thought. The resulting blush didn’t go unnoticed by the Wolf.

  “Are you all right?” He flashed a knowing grin. I swore the bastard could read my mind.

  “I need to shower,” I blurted.

  “What?”

  “Um, something in your trunk got all over me.” At the time, I’d been too freaked out to notice. Then, I’d been too preoccupied with making sure I didn’t die and getting out of my bindings. Now, I was all too aware of something dried and kind of sticky on my right arm and side. “It’s disgusting. I won’t sleep like this.”

  “I have a feeling you aren’t going to sleep anyway.”

  The blush on my cheeks deepened by another few shades. If he noticed, he didn’t let on.

  “Yeah, there
’s a shower.” He focused on my request. “But it’s not big enough for two.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You don’t think I’m going to let you into a room all by yourself, do you?” By the stern look on his face, I knew he wasn’t joking. “You seem like the wily type who would shatter a bathroom mirror in order to stab me with a piece of glass.”

  “I would never!” I gasped. Though, if I was being honest with myself, it wasn’t that bad of an idea. I didn’t think I could actually stab someone, though. Even though he kidnapped me, I wasn’t sure if the Big Bad Wolf deserved a shard of glass in the belly.

  I could probably knock him out with something, especially if there was some kind of guarantee I wouldn’t give him brain damage. That seemed fair. I knew he didn’t knock me out to kidnap me, but he did carry me through a rave with all of my lady bits on full display.

  The memory sent a flush through my body. Partially from embarrassment, but other feelings were mixed in as well. The thought of being on display like that, for anyone to see, was almost… invigorating.

  “You good?” the Big Bad Wolf asked. “I was only kidding about the glass thing.”

  “I know,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “So, can I shower or what?”

  “Not alone.”

  “I’m not showering with you!”

  “I never said that.” He put his hands up in mock defense. That stupid half-grin on his face told me he knew exactly what he’d implied. “I’ll have to sit on the bathroom floor or something.”

  “So you can peek at me like the creep you are? No way.” I folded my arms over my chest, accidentally drawing attention to my cleavage. The Big Bad Wolf’s eyes darted to my tits. He didn’t even try to hide it.

  “Then what do you propose? I’m not removing your chain. I’ll keep hold of the end while you shower. You think I don’t know you’ll try to make a run for it the second you’re free?”

  Honestly, the thought hadn’t occurred to me. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to get out of here. I most definitely did. But my Wolf told me that no harm would come to me. Maybe it was wishful thinking. Maybe I was just naïve. But I believed him.

 

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