Page 27 of Into the Woods

He shakes his head, letting a small chuckle escape. “Nah. Much as I’d love to see Christophe’s face when you waltz your ass into the dining room, I don’t want Tru to wake up alone.” He pushes into my suite and opens the door separating the bedroom from the sitting room. His features soften as he gazes at Tru’s sleeping form. The door stays ajar as he pads silently to the settee, settling in as if there’s no other place he’d rather be.

And I hate him a tiny bit less for the way he cares for my friend.

Chapter 12

Downfall

Christophe

She’s tryingto kill me.

She’s trying to fucking kill me.

Garrick cringes at the daggers shooting from my eyes, but Winnie just tips her lips into a ghost of a smile. Like she knows what she’s doing to my goddamn blood pressure.

Instead of the dress I arranged for her this evening, she has the nerve to show up in booty shorts and a fucking cropped top. Not only is the swell of her ass cheeks in full view, but the curve of her tits is also there for all the world to see. And of course. Of-fucking-course, she’s not wearing a goddamn bra. Or panties that I can see, for that matter.

She might as well have walked into the room wearing nothing at all.

I grind my teeth, my molars nearly cracking from the pressure. One step toward her, turns into two, then three before I’m brought up short.

“Not like you to bring entertainment to the house, Christo,” my uncle, Alain, rumbles as he pulls the thick, foul-smelling cigar from his teeth. “But I like what I see.”

I watch, unmoving as his eyes rake over every inch of her, lingering on her barely covered ass before going straight to her tits.

The man is disgusting.

He takes what he can and uses it until there is nothing left. Drugs. Businesses. People.Women.It doesn’t matter what the commodity or who he makes suffer. In fact, I think the suffering is his favorite part.

He made my father suffer every day before he was gunned down. I watched Alain twist the figurative knife in my father’s back, threaten, complain. Caused shit to sour at every opportunity.

Now he’s the head of our family.

I was too young to take over when my father died, so Uncle Alain stepped in to help. To teach me, guide me. He’s gotten comfortable with being at the top, sloppy on occasion, but mostly just really comfortable.

But he’s still a dangerous motherfucker.

I lock my shit down, smoothing all emotion from my face making it nothing more than a blank plastic mask. Winnie doesn’t need to be on Alain’s radar any more than she already is showing up here dressed like this.

Hell, if I had known he was coming to the house, I’d have kept her hidden away in her suite for the night. Maybe had Teague take her and her friend for a drive—to the next county over or maybe even another state. Anything to keep Alain at bay.

I can’t spare the time to pick apart the reasons behind wanting to keep her far away from him. Not now. Not when it’s going to take my full attention to distract my uncle. Because Winnie could very easily become my downfall.

I shift my weight and allow a lecherous grin to pull at my mouth. I have a role to play and a shit situation to finesse. “Had I known you’d be here tonight,Oncle, I’d have arranged for more entertainment. As it is, I planned only for myself.”

The confidence Winnie wore strutting into this room wavers at the lurid insinuation in my words.

I narrow my eyes as she meets my gaze. I need her to feel the threat of the viper standing next to me and act accordingly. Just a hint of submission, that’s all I need to get her out of this.

I drag my tongue across my bottom lip, tilt my chin toward the door at the back of the dining room. “Why don’t you wait for me in my office, doll? We can finish your interview when I’m done here,” I tell her, my hand dropping to my belt buckle.

My dick is not going to get hard with my uncle in the same room, let alone within arm’s reach. The motion is strictly to allude that her interview will be conducted on her knees.

Alain’s paunch bounces as he chuckles darkly. “Let thefillestay while we eat. If she’s good, we can bothinterviewher. I don’t mind sharing.” He doesn’t bother with a subtle adjustment. No, the bastard reaches down and strokes his puny dick through his suit trousers not giving a shit who gets to witness it.

Winnie’s eyes widen as fear—disgust, more likely—flickers across her face. Her gaze lands on mine and I could be dreaming, it could be wishful thinking, but with just a look, she seems to get her shit collected and pulls her confidence back over her.

She’s putting her trust in me.

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