Vengeful Seduction_A Submissives’ Secrets Novel

by Michelle Love

  Padme smothered a grin. He was so cheeky, so obviously fun-loving, that she couldn’t quite reconcile that with his warning of potential danger. “Who are you?”

  He shrugged. “No one of importance.”

  “Hmm.” She kissed him, enjoying the feel of his lips against hers. He tasted so good. As she reluctantly pulled away, she fixed him with a mock-serious look. “Now, I believe the proper thing to say at this point is that I don’t normally do this kind of thing. The one-night thing. But I’m glad I did it with you.”

  He ran a hand down her body. “Me too, cara mia. Believe it or not, I don’t usually act with that much spontaneity—rather, I don’t get the opportunity or have the desire to act that way. It wasn’t a plan, it really was just you. You can believe that or not.”

  Padme decided she did believe him and kissed him. He smiled. “Sweet one … would you spend the weekend with me? I have to work from Monday—or rather, I’m going to be somewhat absent from public life for a while. I would love to spend the next couple of days with you, if you don’t have any prior commitments?”

  Padme hesitated. She had planned on preparing for her first assignment on Monday, getting some time in at the gym. If she were sensible she would leave now, before it got complicated, before she got too involved with someone who, by his own admission, would be gone by next week. Someone who might be dangerous. No. She would say goodnight now and leave it as a very, very pleasant memory. Be sensible. Don’t risk your career over a handsome man. Good girl, she told herself.

  “I’d love to stay,” her mouth betrayed her.

  Oh,

  CHAPTER TWO

  Frederick Ingles waited while the airport staff brought the ladder to his private jet. He’d never been to Seattle before, and he wasn’t in the mood for sightseeing now. He hated to be dragged away from his Paris home, especially for something as ridiculous as this, but Enver Toscano could bring down his entire world, and Ingles was not about to allow that.

  He got into the waiting limousine to see his private investigator waiting for him. “Where is he?”

  “Hotel. With some whore he picked up. They haven’t left his room all weekend.”

  Frederick’s bodyguard Wes spoke up. “Seems ideal for a hit. Kill him, kill the girl—we could even make it look like a murder-suicide. Paint her as a crazy-obsessed chick.”

  Frederick rolled his eyes. “Except we don’t know who she is and her family or friends could ruin that plan. Besides, we had to register a flight plan—the FBI know I’m here. How quickly do you think they’ll come for me if Toscano and some random girl end up dead as soon as I fly in? Think, idiot.”

  He stared out of the window. “No, we play the long game. See if we can avoid any violence, for now. Intimidate Toscano into keeping his mouth shut.”

  “Probably shouldn’t have offed his business partner then,” Wes muttered but was quelled under Frederick’s furious glare.

  “Wesley, when this trip is over, I want you to take some time. Think about if you really want to defy me at every turn. Now, shut up.”

  Wesley shut up. Frederick sighed. The murder of Maximillian Nero had been unfortunate but necessary, and Frederick had underestimated Enver Toscano’s grief for his friend and his determination for revenge. Even threatening one of Enver’s girlfriends hadn’t stopped him from vowing to bring the Ingles down, and the girlfriend had been quietly whisked away somewhere they couldn’t touch her.

  The Ingles family ruled most of Europe. France, Italy, Spain, Germany—there were very few countries that their malevolent presence didn’t reach. Their business—money laundering –was run under the guise of philanthropy and their enemies were dealt with ruthlessly and efficiently.

  Until Max Nero had uncovered the evidence of their dealings, the Ingles had run roughshod over their competition, the police, even Interpol. Nothing and no one could touch them.

  Frederick shook his head, remembering the day he’d killed Max. A mistake. It had been Frederick’s first misstep since taking over as head of the company after his father’s death. He should have paid off Max instead of killing him. Max was malleable, unlike Enver. Max had given him the option.

  If only Fred had listened to Max before he offed him. His words came back now to taunt him: “Believe me, Frederick, this is a better deal for you. If Enver ever found this information … you may think he’s the playboy in this, that he’d rather fuck your wife than use this information, but you should never, ever underestimate him. He’s a good man, through and through. Any whiff of corruption and he’ll bring the force of law down on you. And then he’ll fuck your wife, and she’ll swear blind, even under the threat of death, that he was the best lover she’d ever known.”

  Frederick had snarled, losing his temper, and ordered Max killed. He was aware the second he had killed Max and his wife, Julia—and not quickly either—that it was the wrong move. Enver would mourn the loss of his friend and be like a tenacious puppy. It hadn’t taken Enver long before he’d found out what happened—some jerk wad on Frederick’s staff had sold the Ingles out. Enver had vowed to bring them down—Frederick had expected a bullet. But what Enver wanted was the destruction of the Ingles’ family business; he wouldn’t be satisfied by the simple death of one of the Ingles. He went to the FBI and told them he would testify under oath and destroy the Ingles’ reputation once of for all.

  Which meant that now Frederick would have to kill Enver Toscano, and soon. Whoever this girl was, Frederick hoped she was only a one-night stand, because he hated to kill an innocent woman. He smirked to himself. No, you love it, you sick fuck, just admit it. He shrugged. He didn’t really care about this girl who was fucking Toscano.

  But no one would get in the way of Enver Toscano’s murder.

  No one.

  Exhausted and sated—for now, at least—Danilo ordered room service, and they lounged around in fluffy white robes, sharing French fries and burgers and fresh fruit. Padme’s body ached and she was tired but elated. Making love with Danilo, she could barely believe they had only just met. He grinned at her now.

  “You have the most adorable blush on your cheeks.” He stroked a finger down one, then laughed as Padme pretended to bite it. She sighed happily and leaned back against the couch.

  “So, tell me about yourself. What you can, of course.” She still desperately wanted to know why he thought telling her anything about him, even his name, would be dangerous, but she didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere.

  “Hmm,” he said, “Well, I guess I can you I’m Italian.”

  “Big shocker.” She pulled a face and he laughed.

  “Okay, then I can tell you … that I’d really like to fuck you again right now.”

  Padme made a show of crossing her legs. “Not until I get more information, buddy.”

  He trailed his fingers along her thigh. “Really?”

  “Really.” She giggled as he gently parted her legs and began to stroke her clit again. It responded immediately. “Oh, Goddamn it, man, just give me something.”

  He pulled open his robe and she saw his cock was already hard, standing proud and huge against his belly. Padme felt her sex dampen but she looked at him disapprovingly. “If you can’t tell me your real first name … how about your middle name? That won’t tell me anything.”

  He was pushing her back on the couch now, pulling open her robe, kissing from her throat downwards. “Lucio.”

  “Lucio, Lucio … I’m gonna smoochio with Lucio,” she said and grinned as he groaned at her bad joke.

  “Just for that, you’re going to get this,” and he thrust his tumescent cock into her, hard, “And this … and this …” Harder and deeper, he fucked her into submission, and Padme forgot all the questions she had. He took her on the floor, on the couch, even in the shower.

  Later, Padme told him a little about her past. “I was born here, but for the first five years of my life, I was raised in India. We came back here when my Mom got a job, but she soon found it too hard to
keep me and she gave me up for adoption when I was five.”

  Danilo looked appalled. “God, that must have been horrific.”

  “Well, yes, kind of. She wasn’t the warmest of mothers, or the most loving. At first, in the children’s home, they were kind, but when they realized no one would adopt a mixed race five-year-old, they soon became tired of me, and I of them. I wasn’t the best behaved either. When I was thirteen, a guardian molested me. No one believed me, of course, so I ran away and lived on the streets for about three years, until Severin found me and took me in. I worked a lot of part-time jobs to pay for college and I turned my life around.”

  “Penny, I’m so sorry. What do you do now?” He seemed genuinely interested in her life but suddenly Padme was uncomfortable. She didn’t want to tell him she was FBI—it might freak him out.

  “I’m in criminal psychology.” It was near enough to the truth so she didn’t feel bad.

  “That must be fascinating and disturbing in equal measure.”

  She smiled at him gratefully. “You can say that again.” Her mind flitted back to the photographs she’d been sent earlier that week. A murdered mother and her as-yet unborn, near-full-term child. He had been cut from his mother’s womb and killed. The mother had been butchered. So much blood, so much cruelty. She tried to push away the thought of Robert, her abuser from her childhood, threatening Padme’s life. She would never forget his face as he held a knife to her. Tell anyone, kid, and I’ll gut you.

  She shivered and Danilo frowned. “Are you okay?”

  “Bad memories.”

  He gathered her to him, holding her so tenderly she thought she might cry. “I will try to erase those bad times, if you let me.”

  She smiled, stroking back his dark hair. “I have no doubt you would. Enough about me. At least tell me about your home in Italy. You don’t have to go into specifics, but describe the countryside, the towns. I’ve always wanted to go.”

  “Well,” he said, “It’s Tuscany. You’ve seen the photographs. Rolling hills, villas on hilltops, cypress trees, olive groves. It’s all there. And yes, I do love it, more than anywhere else. I think you would like it. I would very much like to take you there one day.”

  Padme felt uncomfortable. “Danilo, I’m not looking for a long-term relationship, right now. Not that you totally wouldn’t be worth it, but I’ve just gotten my life to how I want it to be. Work, home …” She trailed off, sensing she’d hurt him. “Although, of course, I would love to go to Italy.”

  Danilo was studying her. “I have no expectations, Penny, none. It was an off-hand comment, but I meant it. Even if we are not … lovers, I hope we will always be friends.”

  “That, at least, I can promise you, I think,” she said cautiously. She placed her palm against his cheek. “You have made this last day unbelievably fun and exciting and blissful.”

  He rolled her onto her back, burying his head in her neck. “And you too. You may not believe me, but I don’t usually have this kind of connection. I admit, last night, my thoughts were solely on fucking you senseless.”

  “Which you achieved and then some,” she grinned, then sighed as he pulled her legs around his waist again, gliding his cock into her. “God, this is truly heavenly, Danilo, but it feels too good to be true, as well.”

  Danilo kissed her thoroughly. “For this weekend, at least, can’t it be?”

  And she couldn’t think of one single reason why it shouldn’t.

  In the hotel across the street from Enver Toscano’s hotel, Frederick Ingles watched the couple making love. He had to give it the man: Toscano chose well; the girl was stunning. All dark hair and dusky. He lowered the binoculars and stepped away from the window, his cock hard against his pants. Maybe he would kill the girl too, make Toscano watch as he, Frederick, gutted her slowly. Yes, that would be good.

  Tonight, though, his fingers itched for the kill. With his looks, Frederick Ingles could get anyone. Yes, he had a wife back home, a wife whom he adored and hated in equal measure and she, him, but he wouldn’t dream of sating his darkest desires on her.

  No. He preferred taking a random beauty from the streets, fucking her until she cried, then killing her slowly. That was what he needed tonight. He picked up his phone.

  “Wesley? Did you arrange the kill room here in Seattle? I will need it tonight.” He listened with satisfaction to Wesley’s affirmation. “Good. Go prepare it, and arrange for the clean-up afterward.”

  It took him two hours to find the one he wanted. Soft looking, wide eyed and innocent was how he liked them. Naïve. Vulnerable. She was a beauty too, not unlike Toscano’s whore, dusky-skinned and lush. She was easily seduced, then easily subdued. He fucked her, fully clothed, then strangled her until she lost consciousness. He laid her on the bed, on top of the plastic sheeting, and ripped open the bodice of her dress. When she came around, he slowly pushed the knife into her belly again and again until she had bled out. Her lovely eyes were open and staring, her body limp. She had died too quickly, but that couldn’t be helped. His cock was hard and that was all he wanted.

  He left the girl’s body and went back to his hotel, jerking off in the shower as he rinsed the blood away. He relived the killing, imagining that it had been Toscano’s whore he was murdering, her belly yielding to his lethal knife over and over. Yes, he would kill her. It would be her punishment for screwing Enver Toscano.

  Frederick Ingles smiled as he came, imagining the light leaving the beautiful girl’s eyes as he killed her.

  Padme tried not to show how miserable she felt as Sunday night came around. She never, ever thought she would be dreading this particular Monday morning, but the last forty-eight hours had been nothing short of … magical.

  Danilo—or whatever his name was—wasn’t just a phenomenal lover. He was incredibly funny, sweet, and fascinating. He told her what he could about his past—born and raised in Florence, Italy, by his Italian father and American mother, He had lost both of them young, his father when he was five, his mother when he was just eighteen. His best friend, Max, had died recently and Danilo was still raw from it.

  Padme marveled at his ability to wear his heart on his sleeve. It made the conversation between them easy and fun and above all else, it felt genuine. Often, she thought about telling him about who she was, asking him to trust her to tell her his real name. She wanted to know … him. The real him. His name was important.

  Now, she wondered why she had worried about it. Their connection had been deeper than mere names or even sex, as great as it was.

  And now, she was going to have to say goodbye, and she was struggling to find the words.

  “Hey,” Danilo came from the bathroom—a white towel wrapped around his body. They had just showered together, making love under the spray of hot water. His dark curls were damp against his face, his eyes such a beautiful color against his tanned skin. Padme ran her eyes over his body, not bothering to hide her admiration.

  “Dude, you are one gorgeous man.”

  Danilo grinned. “Why, thank you.” He came to the bed and covered her body with his. “As long as you think so.” He was already hard, and Padme pulled the towel away from his hips.

  “That’s better. You should always be naked.”

  They laughed. “That would make business meetings difficult, but intriguing. How about we make a deal? If I’m naked, you’re naked.”

  She kissed him. “Deal.”

  He kissed her back, tenderly, as if memorizing the shape of her lips, and then buried his face in her neck, making a strange growling sound. “Mio Dio, I don’t want to let you go,” he murmured, and Padme felt her chest ache. No, neither did she—she wanted to hang onto him, to them, to these last few moments together.

  He looked up and she saw the genuine conflict in his eyes. “Hey,” she said softly. “We said one weekend. And it’s been perfect. I mean it … these have been the most incredible few days.”

  Danilo nuzzled her nose with his. “They have. I just wish �
�” He sighed. “I wish that I wasn’t who I was, that I could just be here with you and not have to deal with …” He didn’t finish the sentence, just looked at her sadly. “I’ve never met anyone like you before. And it would have to happen now.”

  Padme swept her hands over his face, gazing up at him. “My name isn’t Penny.”

  He grinned that crooked smile she was quickly coming to love. “I know. And you know I’m not Danilo.”

  “Yes.”

  He kissed her. “Soon, I hope I’ll be free to tell you my real name.”

  “Just whisper it to me,” she pleaded. “I swear on my life, it will go no further.” She saw the hesitation in his eyes. “To sweeten the deal … my real name is Padme Kaur.”

  “That’s beautiful.” She could see the conflict in his eyes.

  “Trust me,” she said simply, and he nodded.

  “You’re about the only person in the world I do trust, even after this short time. But if I tell you my name and one day you slip—we are only human—then it could mean your life being in danger. I want to tell you so much, Padme, I really, really do. Please just trust me enough to say, when it’s safe—I’ll tell you everything.”

  And she had to be satisfied with that. They made love again and then, just after midnight, Padme said goodbye to the most sensual man she’d ever met. She traveled by cab back to her apartment and, opening the door, she dumped her purse on the table and stood for a long minute in silence before bursting into tears.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Why do you look so grumpy?” Dale, her partner, squinted at her as she got into his car the next morning.

  “Mind your own business,” she snapped before relenting. “Sorry, D. I had a weird weekend.”

  Dale grinned at her. “Bet I can cheer you up. Guess who got the Cleveland posting?”

  Padme suddenly perked up. “Tell me it was Maria. Please tell me it was Maria.”

  “Bingo.” They both cheered, and Dale was right, that did perk Padme’s spirits up. Maria had been at Quantico with them—an arrogant, incompetent know-it-all who delighted in telling them that her father had been an agent for thirty-five years and she knew it all by osmosis. She didn’t. Couple her annoying attitude with her abject jealousy over Padme’s brilliance, and Maria had been the focus of most of the class’s hatred. Now she had been posted to the least-requested field office in the States.