Page 58 of Taming Achilles

This little minx. The little viper. She was trying to hurt me. To remind me of the pain she had inflicted. But it wouldn’t work this time.

No, I knew the power of a kiss. That’s why I didn’t do it often. Not with Simona, or the others. Just her. A kiss, for me, and for Pippa, was more intimate than the joining of bodies. It always had been.

I brought my mouth down, and she opened obligingly, letting my tongue conquer her mouth. Her breath grew heavy, her arms tightened around my shoulders, and my legs curled under her, as if embracing her with my thighs because my arms weren’t adequate to hold her near. She moaned, and I bit down on her lip, before delving in again with my tongue.

It was as powerful as the first time. The last time. Every kiss in between. I was home, feeling her lips.

She tightened, her body warming again. And it was in that state of need that I broke our connection, pushing off of her so that she was bare in her tattered clothes on the black bed. I wanted to take a photo of this beauty, but knew that she’d never let me. So I committed it to memory.

I left her wanting more, like a bastard. But if she was wanting, then she wasn’t crashing in that space we called a sub-drop.

I put my hand out to help her stand on shaking legs.

“Get dressed before your security breaks in here,” I told her, placing another kiss on her lips. I swatted her on her ass as her trousers, ripped, fell to the ground. Her broken clothes were just more souvenirs for me, to place in a white box of all things Pippa that I kept in the closet.

She silently went out into the living room naked, rummaging through her bag for clothes.

I opened the bedside drawer and pulled out the six .380 calibre bullets. I grabbed her Ruger, and walked out.

I pulled out the empty magazine, and I didn’t miss that she halted, watching me work. I reloaded the six rounds.

“You’ll need this back,” I told her, placing the magazine in with a loud click. “Keep it on you from now on. Don’t leave it in your bag.”

I held it out to her, barrel towards me. I had a fleeting thought that she could take the grip, place her elegant finger in that trigger well and shoot me centre mass. It made my heart flutter, not in fear, but in a sense of thrill. She was a dangerous woman. And that spice made her taste better. Why had I never tasted it before?

She looked at me with suspicion in her eyes.

“You removed the bullets?” She said in awe.

I scoffed. “Of course, I wouldn’t do anything that could hurt you.” I cupped her face with one hand. “I don’t hurt what’s mine.”

Chapter 28

Pippa

Ajax and Brett lived in a warehouse. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was safe. There were security cameras, and from the outside, it looked like any other storage unit.

I was able to return to my apartment to grab the laptop. I checked in with Victor. When his scrambled voice came over the line, he skipped all formalities.

“Pegasus.” I hated that he used the infernal code name in lieu of a greeting. There were so many other things he could have called me. Other, more appropriate things, considering the circumstances. “Tell me about the shooting.”

“They were after my bodyguard.”

“George Campbell.” It wasn’t a question. The secret was out on that one. “He was photographed knocking you to the ground. Has that situation … changed?”

Victor wasn’t as stoic as he liked to think he was. He wasn’t as blank as he believed. But he was a bureaucrat, not an operative. A handler. Not a player.

“No changes. Just the right place at the right time.” Be British, Pippa. Stiff upper lip, and steady the chest.

“Good.” He said it as a warning. “He’s not the right one for your purposes.”

It wasn’t “our” purpose anymore. It was “my” purpose. He was starting to carve himself away from me the more I failed my mission. The one I was hand-picked for. To climb the social ladder and infiltrate the high players who control more wealth than some countries.

I was the sexiest woman in the world for two years running. I was one of the highest paid models the world had ever seen. There was a spot for me at every red carpet event and premiere. I had been at Harry and Megan’s wedding for God’s sake. Wasn’t that good enough? I was one seat behind Victoria Beckham. How much more influential did Victor need me to be?

“He’s not a problem,” I lied. He was a huge problem. A problem I craved. “And I’ve since left him behind.”

“I don’t need to warn you that the Circus getting wrapped up in this chaos is bad business and …”

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