Page 53 of The Devil's Daughter

“This is fucking torture.”

I roll my eyes as I slip the new dress off its hanger and pull it over my head. Every cool inch of it is a sensual delight to my heated skin. This one has a zipper on the side of the bodice, since the back is a band of silk with a window pane to the center, revealing a diamond-shaped expanse of my back. The bodice plunges low, showing off the tops of my breasts and an impressive amount of cleavage that will likely scandalize my brothers. The straps begin at the very edge of the bodice and flare wide over the peaks of my shoulders, framing my chest.

I feel like I need jewelry to havesomethingthere, especially because when I turn around, Baz’s eyes drop right to my breasts and he gives me a salacious grin.

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

26

Drake

I don’t thinkI’ve ever known what true fear is until this moment. I was freaked out about the vague threat that was mailed to me, and the invasion of privacy that ensued when I refused to relinquish control of my company. Whoever’s behind the threats seems to be escalating, so I admit to being concerned about what will happen next, but I’m notscared.

What I’m scared of is that Arturo Flores will somehowknowI’ve been fucking his youngest daughter, and imagining the things he might do to me pales in comparison to any fear of my mysterious extortionist.

But when I hear the unmistakable though muffled sound of pleasure come from the other room, I’m distracted enough not to care. My dick twitches, and I’m glad Severino is checking the line of my jacket at the moment, not my trousers. Did she wear the plug like I asked? If she did and Baz found out, maybe he’s already getting some benefit from it.

But when he steps back into the room, his face is flushed, and the glare he directs my way is enough to know he didn’t get what he wanted out of the encounter. I can’t help but smirk. His eyes narrow.

“You’re a fucking bastard, Stavros,” he says.

“You found my surprise, I take it?”

“Fucking tease,” he mutters, plopping down on the sofa nearby.

Every other thought in my mind evaporates when Elle steps back into the room in the black dress. The garment was clearly made for her, because she is the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen, and she isn’t even completely done up. Her dark hair is a loose, windswept cascade around her tan shoulders, and she isn’t wearing an ounce of makeup, but her cheeks are flushed and her eyes bright, looking for all the world like she just had an epic orgasm.

“Fuck me,” I mutter. “Elle, that’s…wow.”

She does a perfect little pirouette with arms held high, then bows like a proper ballerina, the dip offering a spectacular view of her breasts nearly spilling out of her dress. The little shimmy she makes when she rises is all I need to see to know she’s still stuffed with the plug, and it’s all I can do to maintain my dignity in front of my tailor. She breaks into laughter when she catches both me and Baz fixated on her plunging neckline.

“So you guys are boob men. I get it now. No wonder my video broke your brains.”

“You’re more than your pretty face and beautiful body, Elle. I hope you know that,” I say, face heating because it’s as if she read my filthy, broken mind.

She arches an eyebrow at me and sweeps toward me in a rustle of expensive silk, taking hold of the lapels of the tuxedo jacket Severino just finished pinning. She looks up into my face, eyes narrowed.

“I’m on to you, Stavros. You aren’t just a boob man, are you?”

“Guilty,” I admit. Under my breath, I say, “Having fun?”

“Yes, but I can’t say the same for Baz. This is supremely unfair to him.”

“You’ll make it up to him, I’m sure.”

Ines urges Elle up onto the coffee table so she can adjust the hem of the dress, then sends her back to change so she can make the necessary alterations. I follow her and Baz back into the dining room afterward, leaving my tailors to do what they need to do to our outfits.

“We need to get our stories straight for Flores,” I say.

Baz gives me a weary look. “It’s not going to matter. I recommend preparing yourself for the worst.”

“It won’t be that bad,” Elle says. “And don’t listen to Baz’s horror stories.”

I narrow my eyes. “Actually, I’d kind of like to know what I’m in for here.”

Baz presses his lips together and hunches over his laptop. “It’s your funeral,hermano.”

When I lift an eyebrow at Elle, she sighs. “Floresmight havehad a man murdered for messing with Celeste when she was younger. And before that, my brother Maddox learned firsthand how much Gustavo Delgado likes his brass knuckles when Papá Flores found out he and Celeste had beenintimate. But in Arturo’s defense, shewasunderage at the time. I think Maddy was seventeen and she was thirteen when it started. He survived, and now he’s practically a permanent fixture at the Flores estate.”

---