Page 14 of Sinfully His

My plan would work. I was going to play the game with more skill than she knew was possible and I was going to destroy her. She spent the last several years living like a queen ruling over her petite kingdom, a benevolent ruler to her friends and an overbearing tyrant to everyone else. Whereas I spent thelast several years in Italy, learning from the true masters of the game.

The maid greeted me at the door, and the poor girl looked like she was shaking. Jesus, what kind of PTSD-inducing trauma did Mary Quinn put these poor girls through?

The butler was immediately behind her and shooed her off to go do God only knew what, while he led me to wherever Mary Quinn was. My first guess would have been a bathtub somewhere in the basement, soaking in the blood of young girls, trying to recapture her youth in vain.

I hoped she enjoyed it, because soon she wouldn’t be able to afford terrified maids or snobby butlers.

I was going to take what was left of her reputation first. Isolate her from those who could help her. Once she was truly alone, then I would do what no one else had the balls to do. I was going to deal with her once and for all and ensure she was no one else’s problem ever again. I was going to take her money. The true root of all power was money. Since the dawn of currency, he with the money had the influence. I was going to take it from her. Every single dime. She was going to be destitute.

When I was done with her, the only beauty treatments she should be able to afford would be an anti-aging cream from the local thrift store and a facelift by a surgeon’s intern, but only if she had a coupon.

Mary Quinn was going to pay for everything she had taken from me, and she was going to pay dearly. Then, just for fun, I was going to make her pay for everything she had done to my sisters and the frustration she put my brother through. Although I didn’t really know or particularly care about my sister-in-law, I had heard the stories of the things Mary Quinn had put Amelia through as well.

So, while I was at it, she could pay for that too.

I wanted to take in her home and the riches that she was going to lose, but as the butler led me through a no doubt roundabout way to get to wherever Mary Quinn was, to show off her wealth, my mind flipped to Rose.

Where was my little angel? Was I going to see her today? Would she say anything about what happened?

How did she explain her clothing to her mother when she got home yesterday? Had she found some way to sneak in and out of her home so Mary Quinn never saw her less-than-appropriate attire?

There were so many questions I wanted to ask my little angel, and I couldn’t wait to see how she answered. If she answered. Would she be as shy and timid as yesterday? Or would the shock of her attack have worn off, and she had regained her bite? Would her cheeks glow with a fresh blush as she remembered how I touched her and how I made her body tremble in ecstasy?

Finally, we got to the conservatory which, as I thought, was just down one hall from the door. We could have taken a much more direct route. It was all part of her little mind games, to let people gawk at her little trinkets and collection of tacky art to show her wealth.

It was predictable and boring. I was a little disappointed.

Mary Quinn was seated on a ridiculously large, regal-looking chair in the center of the room. Ever the focal point, she sat like a queen.

There were couches and other chairs, but they all sat much lower. This narcissistic bitch had set up the room the way a man with a small dick would set up his office. With him sitting at least four to five inches above everyone else to make it seem like he was in a position of power.

She may look like a queen on the throne, but her asinine and obvious tactics spoke more of a woman who was losing her influence and knew it.

“Ma’am, Father Thomas Manwarring has arrived,” the butler said in a fake British accent, and I had to stop from rolling my eyes, because of course he did.

Mary Quinn lifted her teacup to her mouth, taking a slow sip to give herself a moment to take me in before properly greeting me. I tried not to roll my eyes, instead keeping my features perfectly still. That was how this game was played. I was not about to show my hand early.

“Thomas, dear,” she said, her mouth dripping with nothing but sugar. No, not sugar—God knew that had too many calories. Probably Splenda. Or monk fruit? Whatever the chosen artificial sweetener of the month for these rich society women was.

“It’s Father Manwarring,” I said calmly as I took a step inside the bright room.

Another maid, much younger and far prettier, came out of nowhere to pour my cup of tea. I wondered if this poor child would be the next victim of Mary Quinn’s “youth treatment.”

“Oh, but we go back so far. Our families have been close for so long that we’re even related by marriage now. Surely I can still call you Thomas.”

“It’s Father Manwarring,” I repeated, with a smile. “Speaking of our families, have you met my father’s new bride?”

“I have. It’s such a tragedy what happened to her family, and so suddenly. It makes one wonder why they appointed a guardian for their grown daughter, and then for that guardian to suddenly marry her when she’s so young and in a fragile state. And with such a large inheritance.”

“Well, who’s to say.” I shrugged. “The heart wants what the heart wants, and apparently my father’s heart wanted that young, beautiful, still-fertile woman.”

My barb couldn’t have hit more dead center if I aimed it with a bow. Her fake smile that was always plastered on her face felljust a little for a moment, no small feat considering the amount of Botox that was regularly pumped into her face.

“Yes, well. Won’t you have a seat?” she asked, motioning to the lowest of the couches.

“Thank you, you are too kind,” I said, taking a seat, not really minding the lower cushion since I was already so much taller than her.

Sitting on the unforgiving couch was uncomfortable but was made all the sweeter when her smile faltered again, seeing that even with her higher chair, we were still eye to eye.

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