Page 56 of Pure Vengeance

Lachlan

“She’s been watching me work Dante,” Jerome said. “She doesn’t do much else anymore.”

“I noticed she’s stopped pacing,” I replied. “Has she said anything?”

“No, sir.”

I’d long since given up on trying to make Natasha speak. She refused to say a single word—not even for the promise of a steak dinner seated in an actual chair. None of the other treats I’d triedworked either, and no amount of edging would force a single whimper from between those lush pink lips.

Despite her refusal to talk, and the ever-present mask of patient equanimity I was almost desperate to destroy, she never missed a beat throughout her training.

Holding a ball balanced on her nose? I’d clocked her at almost half an hour before letting her release the position.

She moved like a fucking dressage horse when I hitched her to the pony cart and had learned to eat from her dog bowl without a single scrap of food getting on her face.

I hated it but I hated her more.

Thankfully, she’d be gone in just under forty-eight hours. I planned to leave her on her knees for her father to deal with. The divorce papers were already drawn up, and once she signed them, I could forget she existed.

Fitting, considering she refused to acknowledge my existence at all unless I was actively training her.

“Put Dante in the kennel with her until tomorrow night,” I finally said. “We’ll see if that scares her enough to beg.”

“Sir, I…” Jerome hesitated, then nodded. “Of course, sir.”

The next morning, I got out of bed with a spring in my step, delighted it was finally time to cut my unwanted wife out of my life. Although I hadn’t met my goal of making her hurt, turning her into an obedient slave puppy would drive Steve Ashland over the edge.

If I was very lucky, he might do something that would give me an excuse to cut his miserable throat.

Best of all, once I got rid of Natasha, Chelsea and Saoirse would come back. I was tired of frozen meals, and I missed my baby sister.

Jerome had taken the morning off for an appointment after feeding Natasha, but would return soon enough to get her ready for her grand entrance. I snickered as I walked to the kennel, butmy steps slowed when I heard soft, sweetly poignant singing. I didn’t recognize the song.

Keeping my steps quiet, I sidled around the corner until I could see Natasha’s kennel.

My favorite dog—the one I’d raised from a puppy, and who had thousands of hours of advanced security and defense training—was on his back with his head in Natasha’s lap. He gazed at her adoringly as she sang while feeding him her own breakfast.

“God damn her to hell,” I whispered.

“Okay, buddy.” She scratched his belly and laughed when his leg kicked. “I love you to pieces, but we better get up before the assholes catch us snuggling.”

That fucking bitch. After almost six weeks of silence, she decides to make friends withmydog?

I took a deep breath and walked away. With so little time before she was gone, I just didn’t care anymore, and I certainly wasn’t going to let her know she’d gotten to me.

There was just one more thing I could do. I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when I took her new friend away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Natasha

These days, the only difference between me and Dante was the chain leash attached to my collar—the end of which Lachlan kept wrapped around his fist.

According to my husband, Dante didn’t need a leash and got to sit in the front seat because he was agood boy.

Hubby dearest wasn’t wrong.

Dante was the best dog in the world—at least to me—and I didn’t even care that Lachlan had probably wanted him to scare me when he made us share a kennel.

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