Page 153 of Dance of Deception

The words hang in the air like a knife at a throat, poised to sink in.

“But since you obviously care for her,” he finally says, “I’m going to pretend for now that I don’t know that.”

Tension coils tight in my shoulders, but I stay silent.

“Instead,” Kir continues, his voice dropping lower, sharper, “I’m going to give you some advice.”

My gaze is steely. “I don’t need your fucking advice.”

His smile doesn’t waver. “Mind your own house, Carmine.”

I exhale through my nose, rolling my shoulders, forcing myself to stay in control. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Kir takes his time, flicking a glance to his men, then back to me. “Your mother-in-law met with someone the other day. She sold him something.”

I glare at him. “Yeah, she met withyourman. She soldhimsomething.”

Kir laughs coldly. “Not my man, believe me.” His smile fades.

“Well, he went toyoulater,” I growl, voice like iron.

Kir nods. “Indeed.”

“And?” I press.

Instead of giving a response Kir just straightens.

“AndI believe I’m done with my meal, Carmine. Which means it’s time to leave.”

Suddenly, four of his men are at my back, surrounding me.

I push back from the table, standing slowly, even though my body is screaming to move. To act.

This isn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

31

LYRA

Dark bruises bloomacross my skin. A dull throb lingers between my legs. I trace my fingers over the angry welts on my wrists, the faint indentations from his hands on my hips, the bite marks dotting my inner thighs and breasts.

Every inch of me is sore.

And yet, I smile.

It shouldn’t feel this good to be this destroyed.

Carmine is stretched out beside me, looking completely relaxed, like he didn’t just chase me down, tackle me to the ground, and fuck me like he was staking a claim on my very bones. His bruises match mine, shadowing his ribs, his forearms—scratches on his jaw, where I got him with my nails.

I exhale slowly, pressing a cool cloth to a particularly dark bruise on my ribs, wincing. Jesus. I might need to start taking a first aid course if I’m going to keep having sex with this man.

“You look pleased with yourself,” I mutter, side-eyeing him as he reaches for his phone on the nightstand.

Carmine smirks, not even looking up as he scrolls. “And? Shouldn’t I be?”

Rolling my eyes, I lean back against the pillows, my skin still humming.

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