Page 17 of Pure Vengeance

“When I come home, we’ll play together.” His phone rings, cutting through the thick air that’s filling the space between us.

He steps out of the bathroom to take the call, and I’m left taking in deep breaths.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

He pokes his head in moment later.

“Ten o’clock sharp,” he says, then he’s gone. A moment later the bedroom door shuts.

It’s hours away.

Plenty of time to figure out how the hell I’m going to get out of this mess.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Anton

The house is quiet when I get home. A soft gold light comes from the Tiffany lamp on the table in the foyer.

I drop my keys in the dish on the front table and turn toward the stairs. Muted murmurs stop me on my first step, and I listen for where they can be coming from.

The media room.

My men have all gone home, except for those charged with protecting my sanctuary. Those men wouldn’t be watching a movie when they’re supposed to be watching the security feeds.

I step off the stairs and head to the TV room. This house used to belong to my father, I grew up in this house. The media room was added when Marco and I were teenagers.

Work has me too busy to bother with it much now.

As I get closer, I hear a laugh track.

The room’s dark save for the flickering of the large screen. Six movies in two rows face the large screen. In the first row, middle seat sits Claire.

A blanket covers her sleeping form. She’s laying back in the reclined seat, one arm tucked beneath her head as she’s curled into herself.

I find the remote on the armrest next to her and click off the television. Without the noise, she stirs.

I’ve dealt with real assholes all night. Everyone playing for something they want, trying wheel and deal their way to more power, more territory, more money. No one says exactly what they want, what they think.

This woman though, she says exactly what she thinks, what she wants. I found myself thinking about that while grown men kissed ass, played games all around me tonight. How refreshing she was.

Even if she wants me dead.

A thick lock of hair has fallen over her forehead. I brush it away, feeling the softness of her skin.

She moans softly. Her forehead wrinkles, but her eyes stay closed.

I could kill her right here; she’d never see it coming. She wouldn’t even know it happened.

The woman sleeps in her enemy’s house as easily as she would her own home.

I check my watch, five after ten. She’s not where she’s supposed to be. I was clear where I wanted her when I got home.

Sleeping in my media room wasn’t it.

My phone buzzes in my front pocket and I grab it.

Got the name of the manager who dealt with Michael. You want me to talk to him?

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