“You seem chipper,” I tell her wearily.
“I am! I sleep so good in your bed. Plus, Monet makes amazing meals.”
Rolling my eyes, I recall our chef’s delight at breakfast, setting a plate of bacon in front of V and making a snarky comment about having someone to cook “real food” for now that Livia has gone.
“What do you normally do on flights like this? We’ll be flying all day, won’t we?”
“And some tonight.” Thinking about tying her to the bed in the stateroom and my plans to leave a lasting legacy inside of her makes the blood pool inside my cock. “To be frank, I usually just watch you.”
Leafy green eyes bounce over to my face as she scans me, reading my expression. “Oh. Like, at work and stuff?”
“Like everywhere.” Freckled skin tightens around her neck as she swallows.
“It’s strange thinking about you watching me all the time, but I knew it. I got used to it. Now, I don’t know what I’d do if youweren’twatching me, like my own guardian angel.”
Gripping my eyelids tightly shut, I huff a sarcastic laugh. “I’m anything but.”
“No, you are.” The gentle feel of her thumb stroking over the back of my hand makes me open my eyes again.
“Because I pulled you out of a dungeon that myfatherput you in, then set you off into the cold night byyourself? Because I shot an eight-year-old girl in the head? Or was it because I locked you up in thatsame fucking dungeon? Oh, butthis time, I drugged you and forced myself on you after.” Like the fucking poison I am, I spit out the truth like venom. But her face remains soft, her fingers struggling to reach toward me.
“Cal, you thought I was trying to kill you. I’m a spy, remember? And you did rescue me. And my friend down there, too. She wasn’t going to survive, and you helped ease her pain. I was there, remember? And you didn’tforceyourself on me, ever. I’ve wanted you. I told you that. Istillwant you.”
With a guttural scoff, I shake my head. “Because you were trained to.”
Pounding her tied fists on the table with a loud bang, I snap my attention to her as she bursts out, “Because I get that fucking choice and I choose you. You’re thefirstgoddamn thing I ever wanted for myself. Let me fucking have it!” The volume of her voice has risen higher than I ever thought was possible for her. Tears flood her eyes as her skin flares red, a huffed breath escaping her mouth as she pants with anger. Her outburst gives me pause. Could she be real? And yet…
“I don’t believe you.” Everybody lies.
Her face crinkles with defeat as the droplets of pain spill over onto her pert cheeks. Gazing up at me through wet lashes, her eyebrows raise as she asks, “If you did… If youdidbelieve me, would you…” Catching her breath, she continues. “Would youwantme, too?”
My whole life flashes before my eyes. Never have I wanted something as desperately as that vision of theholidays in my mind, of her round belly hanging stockings on the fireplace. Of laughter around the dining table. Getting into fights over the toilet paper roll. Vacations to wherever we want while the nannies watch our children. The vision is so painful, it’s worse than death. It’s something I’ll never have. And one I don’t deserve.
I’m damaged irreparably.
And instead of telling my enemy all that, all those weaknesses she could exploit, I turn it back on her. “Who are you? You ask if I want you. I don’t even know you.Youdon’t even know you.”
Wiping her face with a thumb while her wrists are held together, she clears her throat. “I guess I can learn that. I am learning that, Cal. But I know I want you and that I like steak and your bed. Some of your classical music sets my teeth on edge. Skee-ball was actually really fun, and I think I could be good at racing games if I practiced. Being outside at night, under the stars, that’s something that brings me comfort. Before Donovan’s people found me, I had been wandering through the woods for days, living off berries and drinking from streams. Sleeping on beds of pine needles. The smell is something that immediately makes me feel like home. Your eyes match the color of the leaves I surrounded myself with for warmth.” The sound of her voice is like a soothing serenade, and I want to revel in the words she says. But if I do, that could just be falling into her trap. Oh, how desperate I am to cut her strings. Let her be free.
Taking a long breath in, she continues. “Listen, IknowI can’t bewithyou, with you. Like, you’re supposedto marry royalty or some mafia princess or something. Probably promised away to someone graceful and tall who didn’t get raped by your father.” I swallow hard as she says those words, a lump preventing it from going down easy. “But I can be a mistress! I could be whatever you need. I just want to be near you.”
All those times I imagined slitting a throat or cutting out a kidney were calculated, measured responses. Fuck, even when I slowly skinned my father piece by piece, it took weeks until his heart finally gave out. That was an education in how to keep someone alive for a slow, agonizing death. I didn’t even have to crack a book; my own voodoo dummy was there to play with in the doll room. Each day I went down to the basement, I had come up with a new way to torture him for the next twelve hours. Waterboarding, bamboo shoots, drugs to the brink of death, then back to life again. Skinning, maiming, removing parts, causing him to hallucinate, burning, leeches, rodents…so many things I used to rid his sickness from the world. To try to rectify the wrongs he had set forth on our family name.
But now… Now, for maybe the first time in my life, I fucking lose it.
Standing up, I walk over to the tray of glassware and bar decanters. Picking one up, I hurl it across the room until it shatters into an innumerable number of pieces, each sparkling with the bright lights from rays of sun coming through the windows. As soon as that one is done, I feel a bit better, so I keep going. The next one lands on the TV, which is plastic, so only gets sprayedwith bourbon down the front, and the thickness of the decanter is too heavy to shatter. Not good enough.
Picking up the tray, I launch it like a Frisbee while screaming in rage. Trying to take out one of my tanks huddling near the door. He’s saying something, but I can’t hear him, my blood rushing through my ears too loudly.
Before I can rear back another glass, my arm is caught by small fingers around the bicep. Spinning violently, I catch Jane by her throat and push her against the nearest wall, her wrapped hands coming up to grip my forearms. Her eyes spread out wide as she struggles.
“Let’s get something perfectly straight. You areno one’smistress.”
Struggling to croak out something, she sucks in a breath as I allow my grip to relax.
“I want to play Mario Kart,” squeaks out of her mouth.
I’m stunned and blink back tears. “What?”