Page 45 of Pure Vengeance

“My pleasure.”

He shut the door behind him as he walked out, leaving me to wonder how the hell my father had managed to do one decent thing in his long, evil life and marry me off to such an amazing, kind man. Biting back a hysterical giggle, I stripped out of my dress, tearing it in my haste when I couldn’t get the zipper bymyself. Using ties I found in one of the drawers, I secured my hair and stepped into the marble and glass shower enclosure.

There was also a sunken tub surrounded by candles and expensive bath products. The bathroom in my father’s house was small and utilitarian with a shower stall, sink, and toilet. I hadn’t taken an actual bath since I was a kid, but I’d save that treat for when I didn’t have a beautiful husband waiting for me.

I giggled but caught myself before I stuck my head under the spray. I didn’t dare risk rinsing the makeup off until I had products to replace it. The last thing I wanted was for Lachlan to see what my face looked like.

Lachlan

Although it didn’t happen often, I could admit when I was wrong—not that I’d tell my sister that.

I stripped off my tie and jacket, then rolled the sleeves of my dress shirt to my elbows. After kicking my shoes into a corner, I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to think about what I’d observed.

There was no way Natasha’s behavior was faked. She was truly astonished and delighted by something so small as a private dressing room and acted like she’d never seen a bathroom before.

It was more than odd, and raised questions I couldn’t afford to have answered. Aside from that, her naivete didn’t matter. She was simply a means to an end.

However, I could give her one thing. I’d give her the wedding night she’d deserve if I wasn’t me, and she wasn’t Steve Ashland’s daughter. I’d just have to remind myself to treat herlike a cherished bride instead of the instrument of my revenge—at least for tonight.

She’d find no succor here. Not from me or Saoirse, or from any of my staff. I’d give her one night of joy before ripping it all away, and I wouldn’t allow myself to feel a single bit of guilt.

It would hurt her even more when I introduced her to her new life, which played into my future plans perfectly.

The shower cut off, and a scant few moments later, Natasha opened the door and crept from the bathroom as if she expected me to bite her. My dick hardened at the thought of nipping her tender skin.

“Thanks,” she murmured as she approached the bed where I sat waiting for her. “I… um… I tried to leave plenty of hot water for you.”

“It’s fine.” I patted the mattress next to me. “Come. Sit with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

My cock throbbed at her address, and I swallowed a groan. Fuck. I was beginning to have dangerous thoughts already, and I’d known Natasha less than a day.

She would have been so perfect if not for…

Everything.

Damn Saoirse for being right.

Natasha sat on the edge of the bed with her knees pressed together and her hands on her lap—the very picture of a nervous virgin.

Maybe the rumors of her promiscuity had been wrong too, but even that wasn’t going to stop me. In fact, it would make the outcome even better if I took Steve’s precious little girl’s virginity.

After getting my head on straight, I said, “I know you provided a health screening, but I have one too if you want to see it.”

“No, that’s okay.” She peered up at me through her lashes. “I… um… I also got a birth control shot. If you’d rather start a family right away, it’ll wear off in a few months.”

Stupid, trusting little bitch.

With that one comment, I hardened my resolve. There was no way in hell I’d breed her and risk bringing another Ashland into the world. Once I thought I could speak without strangling her, I said, “That’s a good choice. We’ll wait until we’re ready.”

Deciding to get it over with, I turned to face her, then cupped her cheek in my hand and kissed her. Strangely, she hadn’t taken off her makeup, but I didn’t care. She tasted just as sweet as I remembered from our wedding, but I missed her citrus and vanilla perfume.

Her cute little whimpers enflamed me as she clutched at my shirt. In a desperate attempt to remain in control, I said, “Stand up and take off that robe. I want to see my wife.”

With exquisite obedience, she rose to her feet, then looked at the floor as the robe slid down her curvaceous body. She was made for fucking, with generous hips tapering to a slim waist. The dark curls on her mound would be removed soon enough, but I was surprised to find hair at all—much less the natural bush she sported.

Her tits were more than a handful with brown nipples that hardened to stiff points under my avid gaze. Her alabaster skin was flawless without even a single freckle, save for extensive bruising on the right side of her torso.