Page 41 of Beautiful Cruelty

“So that’s it?” Demyon asks, a knowing smirk making its way to his face. “It has to be Lacey McKinney?"

“It does.”

“So you say.” Demyon's smirk grows just a little wider. "I'm sure the way she fills out her clothes has nothing to do with it."

"Watch yourself."

"Or what? You'll beat me like you beat Walker?" He spreads his arms wide. "Face it, Vadyusha. Youwanther. Not just for this plan of yours."

I grip my glass tighter, Demyon's words hitting too close to home.

The truth is, Idowant Lacey. From the moment I saw her at Mrs. Klossner's, standing there in defiance with her chin lifted high, something inside me stirred.

And after that photo of her in my suit jacket, her legs spread invitingly.

I want to bury my face between her thighs and devour her, to taste her breaking on my tongue while she screams my name.

I want topossessher completely. To mark every inch of her soft skin. To hear her beg me—both for mercy and for more—to feel her shatter beneath me as I claim what's mine.

I want to bend her over my desk and fuck her until she forgets her own name. To tie her to my bed and use her for hours until she's begging me in a hoarse voice that she'll be my good girl and mine alone while my cum drips down her quivering pale thighs.

Even if she claims she doesn’t beg.

"This is a means to an end." I repeat myself. “As long as all of us keep that in mind, Lacey will not have her heart broken by me once this ruse is over."

"Do you really believe that? What if by the time this ruse is over, you realize thatyoucan'tlet her go? What if by then, you've honest to God fallen for this girl? What then?"

“In two weeks? I doubt it.”

Before Demyon can say something else, a sharp frantic knock comes at my office door. I yank the door open to reveal Lenka, her weathered features twisted with worry.

"Vadim Petrovich!" She's breathless, clutching the doorframe. "The window—it's open. She's gone."

My blood runs cold. "What?"

"Ms. McKinney. I went to check on her and?—"

I'm already moving, shouldering past her into the hallway. My footsteps thunder down the corridor as I race toward the blue suite, Demyon close behind me.

I unlock the door and find the morning breeze stirring the curtains around an open window. On the bed lies a midnight-blue Svoboda dresses, carefully laid out as if she'd been considering it.

"Blyat!" I slam my fist against the wall. "How long?"

"No more than fifteen minutes." Lenka wrings her hands.

"Put up a drone to survey the grounds." I turn to Demyon. "She can't have gotten far."

"Vadim—"

"Now, Demyon!"

He nods sharply and strides out. I pull up Lacey's number and almost dial when I remember that I had left her purse at Walker's apartment. And even if I hadn't. There's no way she'd pick up the phone for me right now.

She's not stupid.

I move to the window and poke my head out. And that's when I notice it.

A tiny piece of thread that clinging to the rough stone surface. If I lean in close enough, I can almost imagine her citrus and lavender scent.

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