Page 22 of Ravaged and Ruined
Garett stills, and for a moment, I think he might actually take me seriously. But then a slow smirk spreads across his face as his hand smooths over the surface of the desk like he’s enjoying the moment.
“I don’t think you understand, Aero,” Ricci says, his voice calm, as if we’re discussing business. “I have plans for her. Big plans.” He pauses, letting that sink in. “She’s smart, strong, resourceful...and she knows how to get people’s attention. I can use her.”
The air between us crackles with tension, thick with the violence simmering beneath the surface. I feel my teeth grind together, my hand shaking with the need to grab him by the throat and squeeze until his smug smile disappears.
“You haven’t changed a bit. Still a spoiled prince that thinks he can take anything he wants.” I say through clenched teeth.
Ricci leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t have to take her. I’ll make her want to be mine. And you’ll stay the fuck out of my way.”
The audacity of this fucker is enough to push me to the edge. I don’t even think. My fist swings forward, crashing into the sideof his desk, and the whole room shakes with the force. Papers scatter, the metal legs of his chair screech across the floor, and his smug smile falters for the first time.
“You’ll have to go through me, Ricci,” I growl, my voice a low rumble in my chest, “and trust me, you don’t want that.”
He finally stands, his expression now as cold as ice. There’s no amusement, no cocky smile, just the raw, dangerous man beneath the surface. “Lacey’s already made her choice. The rest is just a matter of time.
I move fast. Faster than he can react. Before he can even think to call for help, I grab the edge of his desk, flip it over with a roar of rage, and watch as the contents crash to the floor, the glass shattering, papers flying into the air like confetti.
Ricci stumbles back, his face pale. “You’re insane.”
“Don’t forget it,” I snap, stepping forward.
I swing my fist, catching him square in the jaw. He crumples back, a bloody gash splitting his lip. His eyes flash with fury as he wipes the blood away, but there’s no time to savor the victory. I shove the door so hard it smashes against the wall, the echo of it cracking down the hallway like thunder.
“Stay the fuck back,” I growl, pushing past Ricci’s men.
The music from the VIP lounge is still pulsing with some slow, seductive rhythm that makes my blood boil. I stalk through the hallway, my boots slamming the concrete, heat still rolling off me from that bullshit Ricci tried to sell me.
I shove past the velvet rope like it’s not even there. Some idiot in a suit steps into my path. “Sir, you can’t…”
I flatten him with one punch. No hesitation. His body crumples against the polished floor, and a scream cuts through the music. I don’t even slow.
My eyes lock on the stage before my brain even catches up. Lacey’s body stills, like some part of her knew I was coming for her. Her lips part, her breath catches. But she doesn’t move.
Good girl.
I storm up to the platform. She’s still watching me, those big blue eyes locked on mine like she already knows what I’m about to do.
“Time to go, baby.”
She nods once. No protest. No fight. Just trust.
I slide an arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground like she weighs nothing. Her body molds to mine, arms around my neck, face buried against my chest as I turn and carry her down the stage like a fucking war prize.
Voices shout around us. Footsteps thunder. Three of Garett’s guards rush toward me, weapons not drawn but hands twitching like they might. I tighten my grip on her and keep walking.
“You take one step closer to me,” I growl, “and I’ll show you just how much I don’t give a fuck whosehousethis is.”
They hesitate. One lunges anyway. I spin, kick a low table into his knees and send him sprawling. Another moves to grab Lacey from my arms.
Big mistake.
I ram my shoulder into his gut, knocking the air from his lungs, and send him crashing into the bar. Bottles explode. Glass rains down.
Still, I don’t put her down.
The third man stops, glances behind him. And then I hear Garett’s voice, cold and clipped. “Let him go.”
His men step aside, rage in their eyes, but fear in their bones.
