Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“You still haven’t told me why you killed him.”
“Your betrothed? That’s between him and Stephanos. I’m just the messenger.”
“Did it have to be in the middle of the wedding?”
“I was told to make it public. A spectacle. A warning not to embezzle from the Greek mob.”
“Idiot,” she mutters, and I know she’s not talking about me. Only a fool would siphon money from Stephanos.
“Is that any way to speak of your intended?”
She bites one red lip. Makes a decision. “We weren’t together that long.”
That explains her lack of grief. My challenge to seduce her just became a million times easier. “Then you’re welcome. For the rescue. You know what they say. . . ‘Marry in haste. . . ’”
She avoids my gaze, shaking her head.
“This dress doesn’t suit you.” I take liberties, grazing a finger over her bodice, letting it swirl over her breast. She glares like she wants to bite me.
I wish she would.
“Are you always so well armed?” I tap the necklace charm and smirk.
“Always.”
I continue my exploration of her body, testing her reactions. The dress really is awful. It must have been a hand-me-down, something old, because why would she choose to wear such a thing? She would look better in armor. Something sleek and silvery. Modern.
Something worthy of the dagger at her throat.
The car reaches a stop sign and, with the barest pause, rolls through. The most important rule of leaving a crime scene is not to break any laws. I’ll have to speak with Stephanos about his getaway protocol. He’s not the most disciplined of leaders. It’s a wonder he’s hung onto his turf for so long.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere we can be alone.” I pause, waiting for her to fight me. I set a hand on her midriff, caressing her through the stiff bodice. She stiffens, but not before I feel a tremor run through her.
The ice princess is not as frozen as she seems.
I dip my head to nuzzle her hair. Her perfume is complex, something expensive, but underneath is her pure essence. I inhale her scent, greedy for more. I tighten my grip on her, needing to rip off the confining dress. There should be nothing between me and her bare skin. My cock is a steel bar, threatening to rip my pants. Soon I will seek out her damp and secret places, to lick and suck her essence straight from the source.
The car makes its final turn. Up ahead is the bland, five-story apartment building where I make my home. I slide my palm down the curve of her breast, seeking the slight swell of her nipple under the layers of fabric.
She turns from me to stare out the window. Searching for escape? I trace a line from her nipple to the silver chain, pushing the charm aside so I can kiss the smooth line of her neck. Under my lips, her skin quivers.
As the car glides to a stop, my prize asks the question I’ve been waiting for. “Why did you take me?”
“Stephanos told me I could choose my reward.” I touch my lips to her pulse. “I choose you.”
3
Lula
I choose you, he says, like that explains it all. Does he know who I am? My last name is Romano, so he might not know my connection to the Regis family, even if he read the wedding program. He asked for my name, and I gave a fake one—Vera, my mother’s name. A reminder to myself of the reason I’m here. My motivation and purpose. My plan.
Victor’s taken me to an industrial part of town, a concrete jungle. Not a soul is on the streets, and there are barely any cars around. I get a glimpse of the driver as my captor pulls me from the car: male, with a shaved head and a full, bushy beard, his gaze fixed steadfastly forward. Nothing to see here. No help will come from him.
I can’t run. I’ll get about five steps in these shoes before Victor, the knife-loving psycho, grabs me. Better to keep playing this dangerous game.
Stephanos told me I could choose my reward. I have a hard time believing Victor would choose me as his reward, not knowing who I am. But in the backseat of the car, his interest in me had less to do with my pedigree and more to do with my body.
My treacherous body. My face still burns with the heat of my blush. Stop it. Stop crushing on a killer.
Victor’s shadow falls over me. He smells like snow, sharp and fresh and cold. His lips are plump, but the rest of his features—cheekbones, jaw, nose—are too sharp to be human, like he’s a fae king who stepped into our world and made it his winter court.
He puts a large hand at my back, and my skin tingles under my bodice. He raises a white-blond brow with an amused twist to his mouth. He’s waiting to see if I’ll try to run.