Page 14 of Ruthless Vow

He wants my terror, my panic. He craves it.

He’s going to be disappointed.

“Oh, I could tell you everything,” I say. “But then what would we do for fun tomorrow? I’d hate to ruin your whole week in one go.”

He’s in front of me so fast, I don’t see him move. A spark of fire lights in his eyes and suddenly he’s cupping my face, digging his fingers into my jaw to hold me in place, locked in his fierce gaze.

“You have a hell of a mouth on you,” he says, his voice a low growl now. “Never knew that. You were my little mouse. Quiet and well behaved. Now my little mouse has turned into my little wolf.”

That’s what he’s been calling me.Piccololupetta.Little wolf.

“Or maybe you were never a mouse,” he says. “Maybe that was just part of your ruse.”

“You think?” I bite out. “Wow, you’re brilliant. No wonder you’re in charge of everything now. This whole stolen kingdom of yours.”

His grip on my face grows tighter. Not painful, not yet. But I can’t move.

“Who do you work for?”

“Actually, I work for you,” I say. “Or I used to. I’m assuming that giving two weeks’ notice isn’t going to be necessary at this point.”

“I’d say that’s a safe bet. It’s too bad, really. You were an excellent assistant.” He’s drawn so close to me that I can feel the heat of his breath on my skin. “My father said the same, that you were an excellent assistant. He cared about you.” The last words are bitten out with rage. “He told me to look after you, to make sure you stayed safe if anything ever happened to him. And the whole time, you were betraying him.”

He studies my face. “How did you get the job with my father? You’re young. No more than thirty.”

“Twenty-six, actually.”

“Very young to be the assistant to a man like my father. He didn’t allow anyone close to him, aware of his comings and goings, that easily. It’s too dangerous to trust anyone who doesn’t share blood. There’s more to it. I need to know. You’ve worked for my family for a couple of years. Tell me how that came to be.”

I decide to go with a little truth to help balance any necessary lies. “My mother knew him. They grew up on the same street. Went to the same elementary and middle schools. They were friends.”

“Unusual. Men like my father don’t have female friends, unless they’re the bed-sharing type. Was your mother sleeping with my father?”

“No,” I say, certain of it. “The last time she saw him, she was a child. Twelve, I think, maybe thirteen.”

He nods, and I think he’s had me investigated and he already knew the answer before he asked the question. He just wanted to hear what I would say.

“Where’s your mother now?”

“She’s dead.”

“Did you avenge her death like you attempted to do with your father’s?”

I can’t help but flinch at his icy, flippant words. “The only thing to blame for her death was a tree she wrapped her car around late one night. She drank too much near the end and got behind the wheel when she shouldn’t have. Luckily, she didn’t take anyone else with her.”

Leo shifts his grip on me, his fingers circling my neck, his palm terrifyingly close to cutting off my breath. My heart starts to pound harder. I make a sound of protest.

“Who’s Charlie?” he asks.

Startled by the question, I blink.

“Charlie,” he repeats. “Is he your lover? Is he the one you’re working for, giving you orders on what to do, what to say, how to act?”

He increases the pressure on my throat. His fingers are long and very strong. I have no doubt that he could crush my windpipe with very little effort.

“I’m thinking Charlie is the one with the real answers here. Not you,” he says.

I stare at him, breathless, afraid.

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