Page 94 of Captivated By You

“Someone whose judgment isn’t impaired by your magical pussy, you mean.”

“You’re vile.”

He laughed, the hollow kind I’d grown used to hearing from him. “I’ve been called worse. Okay, Miss Kiana, I’ll play. Give me twenty-four hours. Shouldn’t be too hard to get what you need.”

A dart of surprise fired through me. I’d half expected him to either refuse to help or barter for something in return. No idea what that might have been, but I’d seen enough of Johannes to guess he wasn’t the kind of man who’d do things out of the goodness of his dead heart.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. And please, don’t tell Ash.” My warning was worth repeating. I wouldn’t put it past Johannes to use this secret as a weapon to taunt his brother, but as I had few options open to me, I’d just have to trust him to keep his word.

Although… now that I thought about it, he hadn’t actually given his word.

He snickered… and said nothing. No confirmation, no denial.

Bastard.

“Johannes.” I purposely forced my voice low, a clear warning.

Another snicker. “I’ll do my level best.”

That filled me with no confidence whatsoever.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“It’s the devil in me, dearest Kiana. And when someone opens the door, even a crack, he likes to come out to play.”

Johannes likes to play with his food.

Didn’t he just?

I went to hang up, when he called out to me.

“What?” I snapped.

“Great tits, by the way.”

Never had I wished for an old-fashioned desk phone that I could slam down more than I did right that second. Instead, I cut the call, fisted my hair, and screamed into my pillow.

* * *

I slept fitfully, checking my phone multiple times throughout the night, waiting for Johannes to message me with good news. By the time dawn broke, and still I hadn’t heard from him, I got up, crept downstairs so as not to wake Mom and Dad, and put on a pot of coffee.

I’d just sat down with a cup when a text popped up on my phone. I snatched at it.

Johannes: Incoming email.

Twenty seconds later, the message appeared in my inbox, sent by one Johannes Kingcaid. I opened it, scanning the information.

Fuck. Me.

He’d come through. And not just that, but he’d set up a meeting, too. Today at one o’clock… at the coffee shop in the lobby of Kingcaid Chicago.

The very last place I wanted to visit.

And the precise reason Johannes had arranged for the meeting to take place there. He was such a bastard. I’d bet this was the most fun he’d had in ages, at my expense. But beggars were in no position to negotiate, and as he hadn’t given me any contact details to enable me to rearrange the location, I was definitely the beggar in this situation.

But if he thought he was getting a “Thanks” in reply… he could settle in for a nice long wait.

I glanced over at the digital clock on the microwave. Seven thirty. Five and a half hours to go. Upstairs, the floorboards creaked. It’d be Dad moving around. He always got up a good half hour before Mom. He’d come downstairs, make her a cup of coffee, and then waft it under her nose to wake her, following the same routine he’d had for as long as I could remember.

---