Page 33 of Vengeful Lies

Vomit.

When I make no move to join him, his voice carries between the rooms. “Jewel, you’ll only make this harder on yourself.”

I hop off the stool, knowing he’s right. He has to have a reason for me being here; it can’t be to just wine and dine me. The room is just as beautiful as the rest of the mansion I’ve seen so far and just as soulless. Or maybe that’s because of the monster standing at the head of the table, pulling out the chair beside his and waiting for me. Between the two dishes is a bottle of white wine, and he pours us each a glass.

“Sit,” he says without looking up at me. I’m uncomfortable by the ambiance that seems to swallow us whole. The dim lighting, the candle flicking back and forth in the center of the grand wooden table that could seat twelve people. I feel so small in his home, and it mostly has to do with him leaving me unarmed by taking my most precious items. I shouldn’t be here. I should not be dining with my target. If Craig discovers this, he’ll have a fucking heart attack.

I drop into the chair, arms across my chest. He seems amused as he goes to place the napkin on my lap, but I snatch it from his hand.

He takes his seat at the head of the table, and I dreamily look at the sharp knife positioned beside my plate. Then again, a fork can be used as effectively as any weapon, I suppose, especially if it’s going into those beautiful fucking eyes.

“Eat,” he commands.

“I’m vegan.” I lean over to grab one of the small bread rolls from a basket.

“Liar. You think I haven’t seen photos of you eating sauced ribs and the like?”

I shrug. “I just enjoy licking off the sauce.”

“That’s not vegan. And I’ll have you know, my mother is vegetarian, so if you want to play that game, I can easily accommodate you. We can do this dance all fucking night.”

This guy wants to fucking dance?

He took my guns and invited me over for dinner like it’s the most natural thing in the world. This guy is under my skin, and the rage begins to bubble over within me.

Why the fuck is he starting to get pissy with me when he did me dirty?

My fingers curl around the knife as I stare at the vein in his neck.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he growls out.

It snaps the last of my restraint as red hazes my vision. I lunge across the table, my blade to his throat. He grabs my wrist at the last second, so the knife barely hovers at his jugular.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t take orders? Especially from assholes like you.” I push against him with all my strength, but he easily keeps me in place, that lethal edge crossing his gaze.

“This is nothing but foreplay, Kitten. And if you keep acting like this, I’ll restrain you and fuck you with this very knife. My patience will only hold out so long.” He leans into me. His lips are so close to mine, his hot breath washing over me. “If you want your guns back, you’re going to sit down and shut the fuck up, understand?”

We stare for a moment longer, his firm grip around my wrist holding me in place. I fucking hate this man with everythingI am. But he has the only thing of value to me. The red haze dissipates, and I slowly retreat, taking the knife with me.

He adjusts his crotch, and I can’t believe this mother fucker actually gets off on this shit. Then again, he definitely has a screw loose, so it’s not that much of a surprise.

He nods to the food in front of me. “Eat.”

I grudgingly put the knife down and stab my fork into the piece of chicken. The moment it hits my mouth, I stifle a moan so he doesn’t know how good it is. That’s all his ego needs—a boost from me.

“Good, right?” He takes a mouthful of his wine as if we’re having the most civilized dinner together.

I say nothing and take another bite.

“I like that you dressed up for me. Do you wear your leather often when you break into my house?” he asks, admiring my attire. I hate how it elicits goose bumps along my skin, and I can only think about the way he handled me the other night.

“Yes.”

“Damn, next time, bring your leather whip. I’m sure we could have some fun.”

I glare at him when I puncture a piece of vegetable, and he seems to enjoy the way he so easily riles me.

He takes another bite. The silence stretches and stretches and stretches, my frustration teetering on the edge again.

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