Page 102 of Kings & Corruption

Oscar had said goodnight at the door to my room, leaning in and whispering, “To be continued,” in my ear before retreating to his space.

I’d been both disappointed and relieved. What had happened between us was hot, and I definitely wanted more, but that whole pictures-with-your-eyes-scratched-out thing was a real vibe killer.

“Ugh,” I muttered, reaching for my phone to check the time.

It was after three in the morning, and I’d been trying to get to sleep for more than two hours. I’d used the lavender sleep spray I’d picked up in France and tried a sleep meditation I’d learned in Goa. I’d even had a late-night text convo with Mara.

I was still wide awake.

I considered knocking on Oscar’s door. Maybe enough time had passed that we could pick up where we’d left off. I knew he’d deliver another explosive orgasm, hopefully with his giant pierced dick, and maybe he’d even let me stay in his room and cuddle.

But my pride wouldn’t let me. The fact that I wanted it — wanted him — was bad enough.

I sighed and threw my legs over the side of the bed. Time to call it, for now at least.

I slipped shorts over my underwear and considered throwing a hoodie over my tank top, then decided to skip it. The odds of anyone being awake were slim, and if someone was, they’d just have to deal with my braless boobs.

The third floor was quiet as I slipped from my room. I headed for the back stairs and descended to the kitchen. It was empty, and I filled the kettle and got a mug out of the cupboard, then fished through the boxes of tea.

I settled on vanilla chamomile and lifted the lid on the ceramic jar that sat on the counter. Rock had made some killer oatmeal chocolate chip cookies — with walnuts, after I’d told him they were my favorite cookie — and I was hoping there were still some left.

There were, and I gleefully removed two of them and set them on a paper towel to eat with my tea.

I was putting the lid back on the jar when a voice behind me broke through the silence.

“Oh look, it’s the house slut, and without her bodyguards too.”

I turned around to find Enzo standing across the room, his dark eyes glittering with hatred in the dim light of the kitchen.

A thrum of fear beat through me, but I forced my expression blank, my voice steady. “I know it’s late, but you’re really going to need some new insults. Slut is so 2004.”

I almost wished he was angry or disgusted. The vacant expression on his face was worse than any emotion he might have shown. I felt vulnerable and exposed, and I wished I’d worn the hoodie over my tank top.

“You don’t think I can hear you?” he asked. “That we can’t all hear you?”

I tried to process his words but my mind drew a blank. “I’m sorry if I woke you. I couldn’t sleep.”

He advanced on me so fast I barely had time to back up against the counter. “You think I’m talking about tea?”

His body was pressed against mine, his hard dick unwelcome against my stomach. “I don’t—”

“My room is under Drago’s.” His voice was hard and brittle. “I heard you fucking him.”

I opened my mouth to correct him — Oscar and I hadn’t technically fucked — then remembered that I didn’t owe this asshole an explanation.

“That’s none of your business,” I said, trying to make my voice as hard as his. I put my hands on his chest and shoved. “Now get away from me.”

Except he didn’t move. His body was like a wall of bricks, and my low-grade nervousness morphed into full-on terror.

He shoved his hand up my tank top, grabbing my right boob. “If you wanted some action, all you had to do was ask.”

My solo travel reflexes kicked in all at once. I kneed him in the balls and he doubled over for a second, long enough for me to slip out from between his body and the counter.

“Fucking cunt!”

I only made it a few feet before he caught hold of my tank top.

I went down fast and hard, breaking my fall with my arms, the tile floor slamming into my elbows like a freight train, sharp pain radiating into my shoulders.

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