Nikolai
I’m already fucking tired of playing this game.
I can’t kill her. It’s way too late for that. She’s dug her way into me, way down deep to my sinew. When I got to my room the previous night, I watched videos of her sleeping, and maybe she didn’t wake, but in the early hours, she tossed and turned, like she was being hunted in her sleep.
It bothers me. It shouldn’t, but it does.
Yesterday, we had breakfast after I had her slip and the red dress delivered to her. It was an exercise in normal: I read my fucking paper- trying not to look at her-and then sent her back.
Fuck. I never expected to have her be her: bratty, smart, annoying, vulnerable, so wet for me at all times, so complex.
She kisses like nothing else on earth. I can’t even think about much else but her taste, touching her back.
When she told me about her sleep issues, how she’s been mostly sleeping here, I wondered… I don’t know what I fucking wondered.
Nothing. It’s a lie, but I need it to be the truth.
One thing I know for sure is that her nightmares are real. They’re memories. Her fucking father, real award winner of the year. The number of times he’d beat the shit out of Steph and parade her around like it was an award for manliness was sick.
I didn’t know the kid had been there to see it. What the fuck else has Rose seen and calls a nightmare? How long before she works out they’re not?
Breathing out, I pace my office. She’s smart. She knows. She’s just not letting herself believe it. Honestly, who can blame her?
Not my problem. None of it’s my problem. Not the way she burrows into my blood and bones. Not how sweet she tastes, not how she feels under my mouth and fingers. Not how she lights up a room.
I need to get my revenge. That’s the simple and honest answer. Revenge for my uncle and my aunt and for Rush, who lost so much of his world. Revenge for the innocents who have fallen at Finnegan’s hands.
Yeah, I’m aware I have an innocent of my own. Unfortunately, she’s guilty by birth, and my only means for my plan to work. Besides, I’m not going to fucking stop just because I’ve got some feels for Finnegan’s hot daughter.
A sharp rap sounds on my door and Rush comes in before I can tell him to fuck off, holding the box I’ve been waiting for. “Niko, this is for you.” He weighs it with his hand. “Heavy.”
His gaze moves to the other boxes around me. It’s more than clear they contain clothes and shoes for my pretty flower. “What’s the plan?”
“Another night, another dinner show.” I take the box. The contents from the jeweler are custom made, and it’s going to look stunning on her. “Nothing to say?”
“Fine,” he sighs. “Look, I don’t want… I’m not talking about your fucked up revenge plan and the stakes you’re playing with. I know there’s more.”
I just quirk my eyebrow. I’m not about to have this conversation right now.
“I’m saying I’m here. If you want to talk.” He goes a little red, the rest of his little spiel spilling out.
“Rush?” I ask. “You’ve gone soft in the head.”
“I care.”
He’s poking a bear and we both know it. I sigh. “I know. I also know what I’m doing.”
His face says something different but he’s not going to say a word. I wouldn’t either, not if I liked breathing. “There is more,” I say. “And I’ll tell you. When the time comes.”
Rose’s eyes both light up and hold a spark of wariness that somehow turns me on when she sees me. Everything about her turns me on.
She’s wearing the slip, and honestly, I’m fifty-fifty over whether it’s more erotic when she’s naked or wearing a scrap of fabric. Of course, the latter has the added bonus of ripping it off.
Rose wants me. I recognize the look, the flush of her skin. My body wants her, too, but I have plans and sex can wait.
Her gaze falls to the boxes I’m carrying. “Are we going somewhere?” “Dinner. Dancing. A date.” “A show.” She swallows.
I don’t pretend to misunderstand her as I set her gifts down on the bed. “You give the best shows, Rose. Tonight, I want you to win an award.” A visible shiver passes through her as I pull out the large box containing her dress.
“Open it.”
I’m not exactly sure why I’m turning this into some weird version of normal, like we’re a couple and I love showering her with gifts. Dressing her up, on the other hand-now that, I love. After all, she is my toy. If I remember that, I’ll stay on target, and maybe stop her from getting so deep.
She undoes the bow, pulling delicately at the thick satin ribbon. Yeah, that black ribbon would look hot as fuck wrapped around her wrists. I make a note to keep it. Then, she lifts the lid and tosses it, only to part the black tissue paper like she’s performing surgery.
Her little inconsistencies are a knife’s edge of desire in me.
“Oh. My. God.” Rose pulls out the dress and basically swoons.
It’s beautiful, but it will be sensational on her.
There’s underwear, too. Impossibly scant, ridiculously lacy, and beyond delicate, because sliding my fingers into her under them is a fantasy that kept me up last night, in more ways than one. The restaurant I’m taking her to isn’t really a place to finger fuck her, but I just might try. Besides, the panties will bring that little slice of extra, playing up that sweet, bad, dirty, innocent girl thing she has going on.
I take the dress from her, the dark black juxtaposing beautifully from her skin. “That one.” I point at a small lavender box. “And then that.” I nod at a small bag in elegant black and white fabric.
She pulls out the lingerie and silk stockings in a rose petal pink. Not cheap, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ll pay anything, in cash, to make her look the part. Not that she needs help to look good, but the part is a different matter. The clothes, the jewels, the heels, they all say she’s mine.
“Take off the slip.” For a moment, she pouts, and I grin. “You want me to do it for you, Rose?”
She frowns. “No.”
Fuck. Rose wants me to strip her bare. If I do that, I’m going to be inside her so fast, her head will spin and my plans will be ruined. The dynamic of us not having fucked adds to the sexual tension, and sexual tension sells this game I’m playing.
The deeper under my spell she is, the harder Finnegan’s going to fucking fall and give me everything I want.
She slides the straps off her dainty little shoulders, making a show of moving the slip down her body, inch by inch, baring her tits to me, then lower, wiggling her hips when she doesn’t need to, showing me the sweet curve of her body, and down, baring her cunt in slow shifts of material.
It falls to the ground as she lifts her chin.
It’s a total vixen move, and it dawns on me that while she’s still an innocent, she likes to win. There’s her steel core, the drive I know so well. It’s in me, in her father. It’s the kind of chess move that’s got balls.
Her eyes narrow slightly, a dare, the question bright and glittering. I meet her gaze and hold it for a long beat, then drop mine to her pussy. Of course she’s fucking wet. There’s a glisten of moisture on her thighs.
I’m hard as steel. How can I not be around that sweet perfection?
“Turn around,” I say, with a deliberately bored and slightly harsh edge.
There’s a flicker of hurt and disappointment as she does so. I step up behind her, taking off the choker, her skin so warm, soft, I wish I could touch her forever. I slide a finger over the line of her shoulders, down along her back.
“Open the other box, Rose.”
She does without question, stepping away from me and turning. Her eyes widen as she pulls out the contents.
“It…” She stares up at me, holding the jewelry. “It looks like a dog’s collar.”
The necklace is thick and heavy and, like Rose said, looks like a collar. The choker was a smaller, subtler version. This? No one would ever think it’s anything other than what it is. A clear, loud symbol that she’s my property, my slave, my toy.
The diamonds encrusting the surface glitter, each piece held by a link of white gold. The back clips together like a real collar, with two long diamond and ruby dotted chains hanging down to come together with a loop in rubies. A leash.
It’s going to fucking blow minds. Light the real fire.