Page 56 of Dust to Dust

"The blonde. It's much more fun killing an angel." His voice was cold and lacked any traits of humanity.

"Hmm, Interesting. Angels are easy kills. Demons are much more rewarding. A challenge always is." Franco didn't respond, but I noted the twitch in his jaw.

"I know you want to kill my husband."

"And how, pray tell, do you know that?"

"Let's not play around, Franco. You've got a hard-on for my husband." A vein in his neck pulsed. "Inside my car was a bag. I'm sure your men told you what was inside. You know Greg Michelson drew up that contract. You know who he is, and you also know I didn't have a choice in my marriage." I voiced a fake disdain. I needed Franco to believe I hated Titan. That's right; I was going to make Franco think I wanted to kill the King.

Chapter 43

Franco lowered his eyes as he waited for me to reveal my cards. "I hate the Kings. They killed my parents and stole my father's company.” I stated with angst.

Franco would believe that false truths were still guiding him. He didn't know that I knew about The Rites of Passage or that he was the one who killed my parents.

It's a gamble,Ghost said.

I know. But it's all I had.

"Take me as your wife. Piss Titan off. Enrage him. He hasn't publicly announced our marriage, and I'm sure a man of your status can get any legal accounts of the marriage to be erased."

"You're asking me to cross Michelson?" He speared a cubed-sized bite of steak and slowly chewed it.

I looked him up and down, then looked around the grand room, "Are you scared of a lawyer behind a desk?" I provoked.

"I could always send your body back to Titan." He popped another bit into his mouth.

"Where would the fun in that be?" I dared him, "Torment is much more painful than torture. Sure, you could kill me," I pulled at the cuffs and felt the zap. I wasn't scared of pain and needed Franco to know this. "But torment…" I grinned my best evil smile. "That's a much sweeter dessert. Titan would have to suffer knowing you had me ineveryway. By your side, in your bed. Titan will come here. It will be like taking candy from a baby."

Franco sipped his wine, "I could just do what I want with you. No need for the antics."

Franco was lying. He liked dramatics, and he was starting to like the idea I had proposed to him.

"You could, but you don't see the bigger picture. You didn't just take a man's wife. You took his wife, and she willingly accepted you. It makes the burn so much deeper." I shrugged, "It's up to you, Franco. You either can kill Titan when he comes here to get me." I level my eyes at him from across the long table, "Trust me; Titan will come. I'm the toy he has always wanted but can't have. Use me; allow me to watch him suffer before you kill him. Paint a broad and wide picture that you're in love, but most of all, I love you. Splash it across media, then and only then, when Titan is seething and blinded by jealousy, kill him."

"I don't trust you." There was a gleam in his eyes that jarred me. He liked my idea, but like most narcissists, he needed it to be his idea. And since he didn't think of the grand plan, he wouldn't use it.

I lost.

So I pushed, hoping he'd kill me fast.

"And I don't trust a man who cuts up his food like a baby." I eyed the steak, which was half eaten. "Tell me, was it mummy issues." I goaded, "It's the mothers that usually baby us."

Franco pushed back his chair slowly. Once he stood, he gripped the steak knife and slowly walked to me.

Now you've done it.Ghost hissed.

"I'd think twice, Franco. A man like you likes pretty things." I looked at the knife, "That's going to scar. You want a scarred toy?" Franco stopped before me, but his eyes remained behind me,

"I'm going to play with you, and you will let me. If you make one move against me, I'll let my guard break a bone of his choice." His eyes looked behind me to the presumed guard he was referring to.

Two against one very stubborn woman. Ok, Franco, let's play!

Franco pulled my chair back. It made an awful screech across the wooden floor. He crouched in front of me. My legs were not chained. They were free and bare; my shoes had been taken off. "Don't tell me you are a foot guy." I tried to joke, "I just don't get that kink."

"Shut up before I make you." He purred. His voice was restrained, but barely. There was a bite to it. Had Franco ever been pushed as much as I had taunted him this evening?

He tucked the steak knife under the hem of my jean and slowly started to cut up. He was gentle and practiced, but I didn't remain unharmed. One extended cut from my ankle to hip now sliced my skin. It wasn't deep. It felt like a paper cut and stung like a bitch!

---