Page 85 of House of Cards

I step closer, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “All of it.”

“Even the bit with the Colombians?”

I hesitate. “No. I want to review that footage.” I lick my lips, tasting the faintest trace of blood on my lips.

Christ, I need another shower.

Rich sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “Fuck it, not this again.” He glares at me, sniffing hard. “Youfucking vetted them, Smith.”

I lean down, bracing my hands on the arms of his chair, caging him in. “I didn’t authorize this scene. You put my property at risk.”

“Yourproperty?” Rich’s eyebrows shoot up. “Last I fucking saw, that collar said property of Balmont Boys, not property of Smith.”

His words make something dark and violent stir in my chest. I can still taste Zoey’s defiance on my tongue. Still feel the tremor in her thighs when she finally yielded.

And who made that happen?

Me.

That collar around her pretty neck is inaccurate.

And temporary.

But there’s no use fighting Richmond. He’s under Balmont’s protection, as long as he does whatever Myles says. We both have our separate agencies. The casino is mine. The clients, his. But I fought tooth and nail to make sure I had a hand in approving new clients, so our Angels weren’t in danger of being slashed up by some pervert with a snuff fetish.

I raise a hand, curling it into a fist when I see my fingers are trembling.

“You upload any of Zoey’s videos, I’ll cut your dick off while you sleep,” I say, straightening up.

There’s a long, drawn out silence that feels like a physical presence shouldering its way into the room. Troy lets out a soft grunt, shifting his weight over by the door. I glance at him, get nothing but stony indifference, and turn my gaze back to Rich.

There’s a gleam of something sinister in his eyes. He’s enjoying this, and I don’t fucking know why.

“Want to tell me what the fuck’s going on?”

Rich rolls his head to the side, a finger curling against his mouth. I’m not sure if it’s his scar, or an intentional pull of his mouth, that gives him such a deep smirk.

“Genie’s already out of the box, mate.” He spreads his hands, fingers splayed. “All those new clients I sent your way? They signed up because of her.”

It takes me too long to understand what he’s saying. Exhaustion, possibly. I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in days.

When it hits me, I rock back on my heels, eyes wide. “You uploaded Howler’s video?” I can barely talk through my clenched jaw.

Rich’s brow furrows. “Jesus, Smith. What’s gotten into you?” He leans back in his chair, legs out long as he digs in his jeans, no doubt going for his fucking coke. “It’s just business.”

I adjust my cufflinks, buying time as I examine the all-too-familiar urge suddenly coursing through me.

The need to protect.

Topossess.

Troy clears his throat, stepping away from the wall like he’s expecting to break up a fistfight. Rich upgraded from his usual baggie of coke to a slim metal cylinder, a spoon built into its domed lid.

He watches me with a steady gaze as he snorts up some coke, those eyes not budging as he thumbs his nose and sniffs loudly. “All this talk about vetting clients, then you let a fucking fox into the henhouse.”

I frown. “The fuck are you on about?” I swear, Rich pushes all my buttons just for the sheer joy of seeing which one gets a reaction.

“Tell him, Troy.” Rich waves a hand at Troy, looking so much like Myles, I’m scowling before I realize and smooth my face.

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