Page 27 of Beautiful Cruelty

I haven't been able to stop thinking about the way her eyes lit up when she saw me at the Vorobyov event. How eagerly and perfectly she fit in my arms as we danced. How irresistible she looked in that cheap uniform as she worked. The way her eyes darted all over the place when she looked for me in the crowd.

And that scent.

Her intoxicating scent of citrus and lavender seems to have followed me here.

I should've texted her, apologizing that I couldn't make it back. Would she have responded with attitude or another tantalizing photo of herself?

And just like that, my cock starts straining against my pants again.

Focus.I force my attention back to the search.

I walk deeper into the townhouse, and the home office yields more promise—a laptop, files, and a safe hidden behind a cheap Rothko print. It doesn't take much for me to crack it open.

Inside are more financial records, and I tuck them inside of my jacket. There will be a time and place to look at them later.

My phone buzzes, and I'm disappointed to see that it's not from Lacey, but two simple words from Demyon:

It's done.

Ishouldfeel satisfied that another piece of Kirsan's network is eliminated. But I'm not. Closing out Demyon's text, I open up Lacey's and stare at the photo she sent me.

Suddenly, the scent of citrus and lavender is filling my nose again.

Shaking my head, I stand up and pause when I spare a glance at the desk, noticing a framed photo.

In it, Walker is with a woman, both smiling at the camera. She's pretty in a generic way, but something about her seems familiar...

Wait… is that?

Impossible!

My hands tighten on the frame as I stare into a pair of familiar rich amber-flecked brown eyes.

The pieces click together as another wave of her scent—citrus and lavender—hits me.

I haven't been imagining the scent.

It's been here this whole fucking time!

Lacey's words from Mrs. Klossner's echo in my head:

"The ring seems more committed to the relationship than he was. Call it a perk of finding him balls-deep in his secretary eleven hours and twenty-three minutes ago. But who's counting?"

Her biting humor had caught my attention even then. The way she'd used sass to mask her pain. How despite everything, she still managed to find dark comedy in her situation.

Ex-fiancé.

My hands had just beaten that man to death. The same man who helped move money for human traffickers. The same man who was engaged toher.

I watched the light fade from his eyes as I struck him again and again. Felt his bones crack under my fists. Heard his final gasping breaths. Mutilated his corpse piece by piece to make sure nobody will ever identify him.

And now I'm standing in his home, staring at a photo of him with the woman I can't stop thinking about.

The irony twists my gut. She'd been hurt by his betrayal, never knowing the true depths of his depravity.

And I avenged her honor without even realizing.

The sound of a key sliding into the front door lock freezes me in place. Metal scrapes against metal, followed by the click of tumblers falling into place.

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