Page 34 of Scarlet Mark
His lips curled, his smoldering brown irises lifting to meet my gaze. “And then, my darling Amara, we’ll play.”
I shivered, not out of fear but in anticipation.
Because Iwantedto play with him.
Which made me very broken indeed.
Killian
Amara sat on the couch in the suite with her legs tucked beneath her and an empty plate in her lap. She’d clearly been as hungry as me, finishing her food in record time. Or maybe she just wanted to move on to our next task.
Torture.
Which wasn’t going to happen.
This woman had been through enough over the years, telling me that she would be mostly immune to my methods anyway.
We would go about this using a different approach. One she’d never expect.
Standing, I took her plate and walked over to the table beside the kitchen area, stacking it with the other empty platters. Wyatt had reserved top-level accommodations for our stay at his brother’s fancy hotel chain—Mershano Suites. I approved. Especially of the king-sized bed in the other room.
Amara gazed up at me, her expression blank. She’d already retreated into herself, a defense mechanism for someone used to being hurt by others.
My blood boiled at the thought of what she’d been through, how she’d so openly accepted the idea of those twenty men being there for herpunishment.
Arthur wanted answers. As did I. But this would be done my way. Without the use of my blade.
I settled on the couch beside her, keeping about a foot of distance between us, and shifted to bring my ankle up to my opposite knee. She didn’t flinch or move as I stretched out my arm along the back cushions, leaving my hand a few inches from her shoulder. Nor did she react as I angled myself toward her.
She merely held my gaze. Emotionless. Ready to begin.
“So you’re familiar with my family.” We’d hit the high points during our initial meeting at the club. “I’m an heir to the Bedivere Corp. fortune who generally maintains a low profile. I’m seen just enough at charity events to maintain my cover while being perceived as living off my family inheritance without having to work a day in my life.” Similar to my buddy Wyatt, actually. But he, too, had his secrets.
Which brought me to my next point.
“It’s amazing what money can hide, don’t you think?” I leaned over to pick up my coffee mug and took a sip. Amara hadn’t wanted an after-dinner beverage.
“I stopped being amazed years ago,” she replied, tilting her head. “Are you going to regale me with stories to inspire me to talk? Because that’ll get boring quickly.”
“You’d prefer we jump to the point?” I countered, setting down my coffee mug and pulling out one of my knives. “Start the party early?” I tsked and twirled my blade. “Just last night we discussed conversation as foreplay.”
“Right. I forgot. You’re a talker.” She waved me onward. “Continue delaying the inevitable. I’ll try to appear anxious for you as I await your true intent.”
I smirked. “Oh, I really do like you, Amara.”
She snorted in reply, saying nothing more.
I traded my dagger for the coffee. “Growing up in your brother’s shadow has its advantages. While everyone focused on him taking over Bedivere Corp., I learned how to blend into the background of high society and seek out my own activities. Like martial arts training, boxing, wrestling, even fencing. My parents didn’t think much of it, just gave me a bank account to fund my social life, and I used it accordingly.”
A flicker of interest flared in her eyes, her expression otherwise unreadable.
“My parents took me to this benefit in New Orleans right after I turned eighteen. I’m sure you’ve attended the sort—a party where money is thrown around under the pretense of benefiting a charity, but it’s really about throwing status and names around?”
She nodded. “Yes. I’ve attended several. Campaign benefits, too. Though, I doubt your experience was similar to mine.”
I raised a brow. “Did you kill anyone?”
She gave me a look. “I wanted to, but no.” Interesting reply, one I’d dig into later.
