Page 96 of Taming Achilles

So who was this woman now? The one who toyed with a prisoner like a cruel child burning ants with a magnifying glass. Who was Pippa Fox, under all those layers of makeup? Beneath that smooth, flawless skin, was there something still left there for me? Or was I holding out hope for the girl in a green field with a daisy crown to come out of this villainess?

“She’s just goofing off until she truly breaks him,” Ajax said with a little smirk. Brett gave a grunt of agreement. “Then she’ll kill him.”

“She’s a sadistic woman,” Lea said, flicking that butterfly knife in her hand, a grin spreading over her face. “I like her.”

I stared at the camera, where she played the siren, twining Rhodes into her spell. Every second that passed, he fell more in love with her. He broke a little bit more. My sadistic little princess was a cat, toying with an injured mouse, boring herself into its soul.

Did I like this new, evil woman? The answer went through me as though it was whispered by Satan himself.

I would adore breaking this woman, again and again until she crawled to me, with pleading eyes, ready to rip her soul from her chest and offer it to me on bended knee. Did I like her? No. I loved her.

And I needed to break her.

Chapter 46

Pippa

The jig was up. He’d given me all the information and I was done. Finally, I’d get to play.

I flexed my forearms, and the zip ties snapped off, leaving red welts and torn skin around my wrists. But I didn’t mind that. The pain was satisfying.

I had been curled at the man’s leg like some sci-fi poster’s damsel. The male gaze’s version of a clinch cover. My legs had gone numb, my joints stiff as I grabbed onto Rhode’s belt and hoisted myself up.

He screamed as my action pulled on his manacles. His eyes grew wide as he looked at me, watching me rub at my wounded wrists.

I smiled, and walked away from him.

“Pippa?” He whispered, his eyes suddenly alert as he watched me. His lucidity would be short lived, I knew that. Three days without water and food would destroy most men. And I very much wanted to destroy Jason fucking Rhodes.

“Did my father send you to shoot George Campbell, or did you do it all on your own?” I asked, melting into the shadows of the room where he couldn’t see me.

The Yanks had laid out a small, white table full of tools. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I found what I needed. It was crude, but so effective. Just a simple pair of small pliers.

“Pippa!” Rhodes called. “Untie me!”

Victor. My own father was the head of this snake. It made sense, when I thought about it. He took pleasure in deceiving the deceivers. It must have been triply so, when he, as a lying spy, deceived more as a double agent. What would Machiavelli think of that?

My father, the ambitious man, was determined to claw his way up the social ladder, through riches and titles. Even his job was a hamfisted attempt to have power over others. But I never thought he’d do this. Make a lackey of my childhood classmate, and rope in some troubled American veteran to do his dirty work. Each one had a lust for power and control.

God, I wish Rhodes would quit yelling so I could think.

He kept on screaming, undulating between angry and frightened.

“Pippa! Get me out of here, now!” Turned into “Please, Pippa, untie me, come on …”

It was pathetically distracting and ineffective. But then again, he was delirious and not firing on all cylinders, as the Americans would say.

“Answer the question, Rhodes.” It was lovely to finally use my regular voice. Not the soft, breathy voice I used for the cameras or late night interviews. My real voice. The one that came from deep in my chest.

I flipped the latch on the pliers to open it, and walked back into the light.

“Did my father send you after George, or did you do that on your own?” I stepped toward him, the open pliers in my hand. He saw them and visibly paled. More so than he already was.

He finally understood the score. The pliers could only mean one thing. Body parts were about to come off.

“It was him! He said I had to or our deal was off!” He squirmed, the manacles clanking like he was Jacob Marley on Christmas Eve.

I hadn’t even pulled off a toenail. I didn’t even threaten to break a bone. He was just giving in.

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