Page 161 of Brutal Vows
THIRTY-SEVEN
REY
The place Quinn calls home is a penthouse in a skyscraper in the middle of the city that looks as if it were designed by Morticia Addams at the height of a depressive episode.
Decorated entirely in shades of gray and black, the place is dark, sophisticated, and freezing. It’s somewhere a coven of vampires might feel cozy and welcome.
Not a single speck of color enlivens the place. There isn’t a throw pillow, photograph, or plant in sight. There isn’t any carpeting or warm fabrics to soften the space, either. It’s all glass, marble, steel, and cold reflective surfaces.
Looking around the echoing living room, I say, “My, how delightful. If I were a cyborg, I’d plug myself right in.”
“Used to be Declan’s before he got married,” says Quinn, strolling past me with his hands in his pockets.
“So it’s a Mob bachelor pad. That explains its lack of a pulse.”
Quinn turns to look at me. “I take it that means you don’t like it.”
Feeling his gaze on me as I go, I wander into the kitchen.There’s an enormous marble island in the middle of it, accompanied by a host of stainless steel appliances lurking around in the gloom. They glare suspiciously at me. Even the microwave seems hostile.
I don’t want to be mean, so I look around for something to compliment.
“The stove is nice.”
“Tell me what you think of the bedroom.”
He casually strolls away down a hallway. I peek into the enormous dining room and library before I follow, deafened by the sound of my heels clicking on the marble floor, fracturing into a thousand echoes that bounce back to assault my ears.
When I enter the master bedroom, I find him leaning against a wet bar with a book in his hands. To the right of him, a stack of large cardboard boxes rests against the wall.
“What are all those boxes?”
“Your belongings from your bedroom.”
“My bedroom at Gianni’s house in New York?”
“Aye. I told you I’d send the lads to pick up your things.”
I stare at the boxes in shock. “How did they get everything here so fast? And how did they get in the house when we weren’t there?”
He smiles, thumbing through the book. “My friend Bettina the housekeeper let them in. Sweet lass. I think she fancies me.”
“And I think she needs to get fired.”
He chuckles. “It’s not her fault I’m so handsome and persuasive. By the way, this book of yours isveryinteresting.” He holds it up, displaying the cover, which showcases a busty, half-naked woman swooning in the arms of a muscular warrior.
Ravaged by a Rogue.It’s one of my favorites.
Quinn clucks his tongue. “Did it win the Nobel Prize in Literature? It looks very highbrow.”
My cheeks heating, I demand, “Where did you get that?”
He gestures toward a box with its top open beside him. “One of them was labeled ‘naughty bits.’ So of course I went straight to it. Interesting how dog-eared this book is. It’s even got highlighted sections. Oh, here’s a good one.”
In a theatrical voice, he reads a passage aloud.
“He repeatedly speared his turgid manhood into her velvet channel, excited by her lusty cries of pleasure and the sight of her voluptuous breasts and their taut, rosy nipples lurching in his hands.”
Smirking, he looks up at me. “I had no idea nipples could lurch.”
