Page 189 of Kiss the Villain

Our dads arranged it—typical rich people shit.

She was smart, confident, persistent. A Senior Vencor member and an executive in the Davenport company. She liked me immediately and decided I was the man for her.

I didn’t argue. I liked her, mainly because I could be open with her since she was a Senior member—the highest position attainable for a non-founding family.

Since I was expected to get married anyway, I thought Cassandra was a perfect fit. My father loved her, and Grant liked her fire. His own wife, another arranged marriage, was meek and he hated that.

Cassandra was a free spirit who didn’t conform to social norms. Despite the marriage, she was anti-monogamy and loved threesomes a lot. I didn’t mind. But we both got bored a few months into our marriage, so we agreed to have an open marriage. She also preferred dishing out orders during sex, and her streak of dominance clashed with mine, so six months after the marriage, we admitted we just weren’t sexually compatible and stopped having sex altogether, opting to satisfy our preferences with other people. But aside from that, we were an ideal couple.

A perfect match. No deep feelings, no mess.

I think that’s part of the reason my moms never liked Cassandra. They wanted someone to love me and for me to love them back, but they’re hopeless romantics, and I don’t do love.

Our marriage was a practical, harmonious partnership. We were close friends who told each other everything and had the same goals and aspirations.

It worked.

Until it didn’t.

When Cassandra was taken from me, I didn’t feel heartbreak. I felt rage.

Rage at the audacity that someone dared to touch her. I needed revenge, to kill every single person who hurt her.

I didn’t trust the justice system, so I delivered it myself.

One by one, I made them bleed.

All except one.

Maybe it was because Alexander Carson was the last on the list. Maybe it was because I wouldn’t have a purpose after he was gone.

Sandra would remain dead and I’d be alone and aimless. With nothing to tether me to life.

So I went with a different approach and decided to cut Declan from the equation. To go after Carson with needles, stabbing him slowly, until he died by a thousand cuts.

And the best way to do that? Kill his grandsons. Then his son. Then his daughter-in-law.

Break him completely before finishing him off.

The first time I met Gareth, my suspicions about his rotten blood and inherited bad habits were confirmed, and I wanted to punish him by reversing the positions. But that only planted the seed of fascination.

Because ever since then, even though I told myself I could kill him at any moment, I’ve only managed to grow more infatuated with him.

Enamored.

Obsessed.

Addicted.

Obviously, my original plan went to absolute hell, because I’m in the back of a van, heading straight to where that cockroach Declan is keeping my little monster.

While staring at a selfie he took of us the other day.

He’s lying on my lap, grinning at the camera, dimples deep in his cheeks, blond hair messy, and Moka curled up on his shoulder.

I wasn’t even looking at the camera. My hand was in his hair, stroking absentmindedly while I watched the game.

Little Monster

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