Page 16 of Cruel Dominion

As soon as I got her alone, I’d make sure she couldn’t fucking forget me.

The room had filled even more, and enough women were wearing lilac or dusty purple gowns that tracking down Anna was harder than I’d hoped. The elite wanted their women all looking the same—chaste, expensive—untouchable in pastels and ivory. Fucking prudes.

Anna would look ten times more beautiful once I’d stripped her down and ruined her. She wouldn’t be getting away from me again, even if I had to break her so thoroughly that I was the only man she could fit with.

A few business acquaintances tried to stop me to chat, but I looked right through them. I was done wasting my goddamn time with them.

I finally found her, standing at a minibar, ordering a glass of red wine. I couldn’t stop the wicked smile spreading across my face. I quietly stalked behind her, enjoying the view of her gorgeous backside in the silky gown. I was going to own that tight little ass.

“Boo,” I murmured in her ear, and she jerked away, whirling with a gasp. “I found you, Anna.”

Fuck, she still smelled the same. Like ylang-ylang and vanilla. Her skin looked so soft, it felt like I could bruise it just by touching it. God, I wanted to mark her everywhere.

Her eyes darted to the people around us. Obviously, she was deciding whether she could ignore me in front of the bartender and all the guests standing close to us. Hudson Vaughn’s perfect little princess could never be ill-mannered in public, of course.

“How long are you going to pretend that you don’t see me?” I whispered, leaning in close.

She inhaled sharply before turning to face me, her wooden smile firmly in place.

“Carter Cole? How are you? It’s been so long.”

That overly polite, sing-song voice came from years of practice doing things like this. She had never used it with me before. This was the girl who used to cry in my arms because her maniac father didn’t let her breathe without his consent. She was and yet wasn’t the same person.

“Too long,” I said. I stepped forward and she shifted back. The movement was natural, maybe even a reflex but she didn’t want to be close to me. I took a slow breath to keep myself calm. She was lucky we had so many eyes on us.

“So,” she said.

Her eyes, usually pools of emotion, were impossible to read.

“That’s all you have to say to me?”

Her practiced smile didn’t falter for a second.

“The last time we talked, you told me I was a spoiled brat who didn’t have any real problems. That you got what you wanted from me and never wanted to see me again.”

“So you do remember me,” I said with a smirk.

“I do. You remember me too, which makes me wonder why you think I would have anything to say to you.”

When I said I never wanted to see her again, she had actually left. I knew she would, she had to but she hadn’t just left. She fucking disappeared. She dropped off the map completely. I knew she did, I’d looked. She wasn’t in Malawi building houses. She wasn’t at Yale. Photos of her didn’t exist on the internet. She was gone. I even looked for an obituary just in case she was dead.

But I’d never stopped thinking about her, never stopped craving her. Even now, when I pumped my cock in the shower, it was her I pictured kneeling in front of me. My obsession with her was the only thing keeping my dark heart beating, even if the only thing powering it was memories of her.

That was about to change. She might have still been angry with me, but I’d make her fucking forgive me. Then, I’d learn every fucking thing I missed during our time apart, until I recognized every dark corner of her soul again. It wouldn’t take long. Even after all the time that passed, I still knew her down to her fucking core, just like she knew me. She was the only person still alive who ever saw any real softness in me.

And if I couldn’t give that to her, then she’d take the hard parts. She was strong enough to survive that.

“You’re still angry,” I murmured. “So be angry. Make me hurt like I hurt you, Anna. I might even like it.”

Her green eyes widened with shock then came alight with fury. There she was: the fiery, rebellious girl I remembered. She opened her mouth to tell me off.

Before she could, a bright flash went off to our right, and Anna cringed away. An event photographer snapped photos of two couples near us, no doubt getting pictures for the local society papers. I prepared myself to paste on a smile and fake it. I’d been photographed at parties with dates more times than I could count, because it was good publicity for my business.

But for some reason, Anna ran, darting between guests to get away.

What the fuck?

I got the sense it wasn’t that she didn’t want to be photographed with me. I saw her fearful dear-in-the-headlights look just before she bolted.

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