Page 27 of Dangerous Vengeance

Matty hands me my shorts and a towel, produced from somewhere in this fucking pitch-black kitchen. I dry myself as much as I can and then put the shorts on. By the time I do, he’s already gotten his dick put away and zipped his pants. He grabs me by the elbow and leads me roughly through the kitchen into the hallway. It’s still so dark in here I can’t tell where we are, but we aren’t going to my room. It’s upstairs, and I’ve never been down this hallway.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask. My arm hurts where he’s gripping me but I don’t complain to him.

“You’re sleeping with me.”

The way he says it is gruff, demanding, but again, I don’t protest. He guides me forcefully down a hallway and into another dark room then flips on the light. This room has the same warm feeling as his study. I like it. Burgundy and cream bedding matches the crushed velvet curtains. A tall four-post bed nestles up against heavy mahogany wainscotting. I stand and take it all in as he leaves my side, heading to the nightstand where a bottle of liquor sits.

“Why do you want me in here?” I ask, watching him slurp straight from the bottle. He’s never done this before. I thought he was angry with me for going into his private room.

“Don’t ask questions, just take your clothes off. You’re going to shower and be my fuck toy tonight.”

I shudder at his words. This man is so goddamn self-righteous and arrogant to think I will just be his fuck toy, but he’s exactly right. I will. Because he makes me feel incredible. So incredible that I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here, to study him and get to know him. I slide my shorts down and they fall to the ground, then I peel my shirt over my head.

“Are you going to kill me?” It may seem like a stupid question, but I’ve heard his family telling him what they intend for me. I need to know he will protect me from them, because no matter how much I want to be here, to love him, I can’t. Not if his brothers want me dead.

“I told you I like our arrangement.” Matty sits on the side of the bed and removes his shoes with one hand while he slugs the drink with the other. “Shower is there.” He gestures with the bottle toward a door, and I glance at it.

That’s when I see the whip on the back of his bathroom door. Long black handle, long threads of leather. It makes me tense with arousal even after two incredible orgasms. He’s really into this kinky shit and I love it. It makes my heart wrench in my chest. I look away from it and back to him. I’m fucking falling for this sick bastard, and I can’t fight it. I want to fall for him. I want to love him. I want to be his fuck toy and his slut, and anything else he wants. But he’s the embodiment of darkness. Why am I so drawn to him? Is it only because we share some trauma in our past? Is that it? What’s wrong with me?

“I said you’re going to shower,” he snaps, and I move toward the door, closer to the whip he will surely beat me with. “And don’t take forever. I’m ready to go again.”

Does he really think bossing me around is the way to my heart? He must. And maybe it is. Romantic shit just isn’t my thing. Flowers, chocolates, poems—for soft women who need coddled. I lightly touch the whip as I open the door. This is for me. This is the way to my heart; to tenderize my body with his hands is the only way he will connect to me, the only way he will make me feel for him. And he does it so well.

I glance over my shoulder as I pull the door open. His eyes are devouring me. “I hear spanking feels even better when you’re wet,” I tell him as I walk into the bathroom and see him stand before I turn away. I don’t know who is in charge here, because he certainly seems to follow my orders the way he expects me to follow his.

God why am I falling for him like this.

And how do I get out of this situation without getting killed?

And what about Hal’s killer?

16

MATTY

Natalie looks elegant. The pinstripe suit I bought for her to wear fits her perfectly. I picked her sizes correctly with a little help from Dominic’s wife and some guesswork. And dark navy is a terrific color for her, accents her creamy complexion well this time of year. She sits on the edge of the bed putting on the black flats I got to match the suit. It looks like something she’d wear any other day of the week to work. This day—Wednesday afternoon—she’s not going into the office to work, at least not for them. Today she’s working for me.

“You’ll want this,” I tell her, reaching into my pocket. I pull out a barrette, small and dark blue with a hinged alligator clasp. She looks up at me as I gently draw her hair to one side and clip the barrette in place. It holds her hair nicely out of her eyes and serves a dual purpose. The barrette is my insurance that she can’t run. It has a tracking device in it, and I won’t even tell her it’s there.

“Thank you, but that’s a very expensive looking clip.” She tries to pluck it from her hair. She’s not wrong. It’s made of solid sapphire and sterling silver. But it’s essential to our cause and she can’t be trusted to leave the house without it.

I gently place my hand over hers as she reaches to remove the barrette and cover her fingers. “It looks ravishing. Leave it.”

Her tongue flicks over her bottom lip. She knows when I give an order it is to be obeyed. I’ve taught her that through our various interactions. She knows when she obeys it’s good, and when she doesn’t it’s bad. This time, she nods and lowers her hand and I cup her chin and force her to crane her neck upward so I can inspect her.

Her makeup is done well, tasteful—like any other day at work. She has a few stray hairs, again, nothing out of the normal. And she looks like she’s tired, as if she has jet lag or hasn’t slept well. That will go right along with the story we’ve concocted as to where she’s been and why she hasn’t checked in.

“Remember what you’re going to say?” I ask, searching her eyes. She tries to nod but my firm grip on her chin prevents it.

“I’m going to tell them I was with a source outside of the country. That Sheffield knew about it.”

“Good girl.” I let her go and take a step back. We are ready. I managed to get her bag out of Rome’s car, so we have her swipe badge, and now all we need to do is head to the newspaper building and waltz right in.

I walk to the mirror to examine my own reflection. Sven’s wife helped me this morning with a disguise—a giant scar on my cheek done in Halloween makeup. I wear a dark suit as always, but glasses and a white-tipped cane will add to the mystery. I will walk in dressed as a blind man who has suffered some ill fate and even if the cameras see my face, they will not be able to detect my face with software.

“We’re ready,” I say, and Natalie is at my side. She hooks her hand around my arm, bag slung across her shoulder, and I watch her shoulders rise and fall. She looks resolute, determined. I’m not sure if she is determined to help me, or to escape, but my eyes will be on her the entire time.

Rome drives us across town. It’s a silent ride; she seems afraid. I don’t say much either. I don’t have much to say to her. When this is finished, I know we will have everything we need to keep her from proving our family is dirty—for now. If she wants to pursue that in the future she very much can, but she’ll have to start from scratch. I’m not sure I really believe her story about having made copies of the files with orders to turn it in if she goes missing. She’s been absent for almost three full weeks. If a friend was going to turn that over, it would have happened.

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