Page 46 of Kiss the Villain

Besides, I’m the puppet master,nothim.

The only one who gets to put an end to anything is me.

You didn’t even last a week. What a coward.

You might want to stop the provocation tactic. I see right through it and it doesn’t work on me.

No provocation is in sight. I’m only pointing out that you ran away with your tail between your legs. Can’t admit you love what I do to you, baby?

I’m not your fucking baby.

But you love what I do to you?

I was drugged. It means nothing and I’m not gay.

Hmm. Is that what you told yourself when you wouldn’t stop coming against my cock and in my mouth? Bet you recite those words like a mantra when you jerk off to the memory. Do you also play with those perky little nipples like I did?

He blocked me.

I still laugh as I stare at my phone now.

Because I know, I just know I’m getting under his skin.

Affecting his usual course of action.

Twisting him inside out.

Carson is not the type who retreats from a challenge. It’s why he doubled down on the drugs and even picked up stalking.

It’s why he looks murderous whenever I insult his looks or intelligence. He takes pride in those and everything about his person—which is why I constantly target them.

He might play the social game to perfection, might have people eating out of the palm of his hand, and even calling him well-mannered and a gentleman, but he irrevocably sees himself as superior to everyone else.

His strongest suit is his ability to mask his true nature. It’s hard for normal people to see who heactuallyis—the depravity, lack of empathy, and streak of narcissism. Honestly, he could get an Oscar for acting the way he has for years.

Probably his entire adult life.

Gareth Carson is a criminal profiler’s wet dream. He never makes mistakes and maintains a pretty normal, albeit privileged life.

He might not be officially diagnosed, but he has clear signs of antisocial personality disorder and possible narcissistic tendencies.

His moral compass doesn’t exist, hence the way he was ready to rape Yulian and me, and if I hadn’t turned the tables, he would’ve gotten off on that type of fucked-up power, too.

What does exist, however, is his careful, meticulous maintenance of his public persona—he spent a lot of effort to diverge from his brother’s image.

The younger Carson is a proud diagnosed psychopath. The older Carson is a closeted one, so to speak.

And while I don’t know why the golden-boy image is so important to him, I’ll find out. And I’ll break that purpose.

I’ll break him to fucking pieces until he’s a lifeless little toy.

And toys don’t get a say in what happens to them.

Therefore, they can’t decide they’ll stop functioning.

I dial the number I need and put the phone to my ear as I stare out my window at the oak tree where Carson used to linger.

“Professor,” Yulian’s slightly husky voice filters from the other side.

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