Page 67 of Sardonic Burn

“Ten minutes. You’ll guard the restroom and make sure no one enters, got it?”

She nods.

I pull out a gun from the waistband of my pants, and she takes it without hesitation. “You know what to do.”

“Of course. I’m a De Santis, too.”

My attention is back on Noelle. Her shoulders are tense, and all I can see is that terrible, fake smile she has on her face. She doesn’t even glance at me, but she knows I’m staring.

Everyone else can feel the rage inside of me.

I’m not sure why I’m pissed.

She might’ve taken it too far, but not only is that expected of Noelle Campbell, it’s also what ensured the plan was a success. Yet, it bothered me. The smug look on her face, the daunting grin, and the way she looked down on me.

All of it infuriated me.

And I’m not the one to let anyone have the last laugh.

I’m not sure how I’ll make my point across, either. I have too many options, and too little time to execute all of them.

Then, Noelle leaves her empty glass on the first table she sees and strolls toward the women’s restroom. I glanced at Lyla, who immediately understands her assignment and leaves, allowing me a moment to compose myself.

Two women leave the area, and Lyla whispers, “She’s alone.”

With that, I push the door open and slam it behind me.

Surprised, Noelle turns around, but she’s too slow. Probably because she didn’t expect me to jump her in the women’s restroom.

Swiftly, I have her pinned against the wall, my hand wrapped around her throat. I slam her, enough to shake her but not cause any pain. Her eyes quickly narrow, and she sneers.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, bastard? Let me go.”

I squeeze her tighter, and she chokes.

“Where did that bravery and arrogance go? You truly don’t think you’ll ever deal with the consequences of your actions, do you?”

“It was our plan, moron. Was I supposed to baby you?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Hudson, your… hand.”

She barely chokes out the words. Her cheeks flush, the pink shade covering half of her face. Her eyes are glossy, and her bottom lip trembles.

“What about it?”

She squeezes her eyes shut.

“Your…otherhand.”

I freeze.

It’s only now that I realize that while my right hand is wrapped around her throat, ready to snap it, my other one is just above her thigh, right where the slit of her dress ends.

My blood boils, heat rushing down to my cock, and I’m barely able to contain and restrain myself. Slowly, with a tilt of my head, I grin. My hand moves up, and I need to fucking close my eyes.

“How naughty,” I grumble. “No underwear?”

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