Page 110 of House of Cards

I love how hard she fights.

Chad slaps her again. Right on the same spot.

Zoey yelps into the gag, her arms cording as she tries to pull herself away.

And here I thought it wasn’t possible to hate someone more than I loathe him. I dredge up the last reserves of my patience and force my voice to be calm and controlled when I say, “Not on the same?—”

Chad’s third blow strikes exactly where his first two landed. Zoey squeals, the gag barely muffling the sound. He put his whole weight into that blow, and when he turns and gives me that smug look, like he just one-upped me in a game of fucking darts, I don’t even realize I’m going to punch him until my fist connects with his jaw.

He goes sprawling with a shriek of pain. Zoey flinches, her head swiveling as she tries to figure out what’s happening.

“I told you to distribute the impact,” I growl through my teeth, storming up to the kid as he scrambles to his feet. “If youcan’t follow a simple instruction like that, then what the fuck are we doing here?”

A cough comes through on the intercom system, and I stiffen.

I’d completely forgotten about Myles and whoever else he brought with him to watch.

Fuck.

I lift my hands, taking a step back and affecting as close to a professional face as I can. Judging from the shock on the kid’s face, I’m not getting it quite right.

“The fuck did you do that for, man?” he demands, fingering his jaw and staring at me with such horror you’d have sworn I’d broken it. “I’m new at this.”

“Are you new to the English language, too?”

The kid throws a glare toward the two-way mirror, and then back at me, cupping his jaw as he storms past. “Fuck this.”

“Kid, wait?—”

Chad spins around, spots of red on his pale face. “Kid?” He stabs a finger in my direction as he backs up toward the door. “Fuckyou.”

The door slams. Myles’s voice comes through on the intercom. “Stay where you are, Smith.”

I turn, staring at Zoey where she hangs from the X-Cross.

She yelps when I bring my hand down on her ass.

Drama queen. I’m nowhere near the red splotch Chad made on her skin.

She starts making urgent noises through the gag. I rip it off her, then the blindfold, and we stare at each other from less than a foot away as I try to catch my breath.

“That guy was a dick,” she says. “Hope you charged him an extra douchebag fee.”

I blink at her, and then laugh.

Laugh.

Jesus, I must be losing my mind.

By the time Myles arrives, I’ve released Zoey and put her in a dressing gown. I’m busy applying a lick of salve to her ass when the door opens and Balmont walks in.

“Smith.”

“Myles.” I turn, capping the ointment and setting it down on the coffee table.

“Can you give us a minute, Cherry Pie?” Myles asks Zoey, his eyes fixed on mine.

“Uh…yeah…sure.”

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