Page 7 of Vengeful Lies

Eli doesn’t break his eye contact even when Michelle tugs on his arm, begging him to stop Dutton from his craziness. I don’t have siblings, but I imagine I would do the same if I did. As in break the man’s hand, I mean.

But Eli seems to barely notice her as his all-consuming gaze slowly roams down my figure and then back up. I can feel it like a caress on my skin, as if with his stare alone he’s physically touched me—a killer’s gaze and mark.

I’m not here to tempt him. Although, in other circumstances, I’d have no issue cornering him. I’m here to blend into the crowd and figure out how I can fuck with him a little more. The laxatives are a last resort. I can’t poison him yet. Besides, I’d prefer a bullet. So humiliating him is my next plan of attack.

When someone walks in front of me and breaks the eye contact, I take that moment to slip into the hallway beside me. Music is playing in the background as I notice a group of men on the left, snorting god knows what, in what appears to be a casual living space.

Caterers are busily attending to everyone’s needs, and I make a point to mentally map out the Bedore mansion. I never know if this might be the place where I have to take the final shot. Knowledge is power, after all.

A woman bursts out of the door to my left and barges past me. When I go to swear at her, I realize her dress is torn at the shoulders, and she’s sobbing, running away scared. Looking into the half-ajar door, I see a man holding his nose and cursing. Another man who thinks he can take from a woman.

Not my problem.

I’m playing low-key tonight, I remind myself.

I plan to keep walking down the hall, but my feet lead me into the small bedroom, unable to help myself.

“Fucking stupid whore,” he curses, then looks up. “Who the fuck are you?” he demands. But his tone changes ever so slightly as his filthy gaze roams over me. Sometimes, being a woman has its own power.

“I just saw a commotion and wanted to make sure you were okay,” I say sweetly as I step toward him. A king-size bed is in the center of the room, closely positioned near bay windows that I consider throwing him through. It’s only two stories, so he might not die. But even I’m aware that I’m at a disadvantage against such a heavy man.

“The fucking bitch broke my nose,” he growls.

“Here, let me have a look at it.” I tip my head and bat my thick eyelashes at him. He seems reluctant as if it’s a weakness to show me his injury. “Maybe I can make it better?” I say sensually.

He smirks and removes his hand. There’s barely any blood; she must’ve just got a lucky elbow in, but had she not, who knows what might’ve happened.

“Oh, it doesn’t look broken,” I softly announce. As he goes to grab for me, I shift out of his reach and hit him with a right hook. Blood explodes as he squeals like a pig and stumbles back. “Now it is broken, you stupid piece of shit.”

Fury bubbles to the surface at the thought of how many women he might’ve assaulted. I might not be able to kill whoever this fucker is, but a little broken nose never hurt anyone.

“You stupid bitch,” he snarls, but it comes out muffled due to his fingers pinching his nose to stop the bleeding.

“Don’t ever touch her or another woman again, asshole,” I warn, peering down at him through my mask.

He grabs for his gun in his holster, which is probably the hardest thing he’s ever been able to pull out of his pants. My body is ready to burst into action, except a trickle of danger keeps me in place.

It’s not the man pointing a gun at my face that has my feet planted on the floor.

No. It’s the monster who’s walked in behind me, drawing the shadows of the room to him.

I don’t even need to look at who it is because I can feel the six-foot-four mass of muscle standing behind me.

“What do we have here?” Eli’s voice slices through the room.

“This stupid bitch broke my nose,” the man screams.

“And is that enough reason to point a gun at a lady?” Eli asks, and I internally roll my eyes as he puts on an act of being chivalrous.

The man seems gobsmacked. “But she’s just a woman.”

Eli steps around me, and I have to crane my neck to see what he’s doing as he looms over the man whose hand is noticeably shaking, the gun no longer steady. The room is dark, only the light from the hallway shining in, and I imagine this fucker, who I now kind of feel sorry for, thinks he’s being stared down by the devil himself. It kind of pisses me off because if Eli hadn’t interfered, he would undoubtedly be looking at me with that reverence and fear instead.

“Please, Eli,” the man begs.

“What did you call me?” Eli’s voice cuts through the air.

The man gulps. “Mr. Monti. I don’t know this woman, but she assaulted me.”

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