Page 96 of Vicious Intentions

“A reason for revenge. Maybe not Kelly, but you can’t put it past the ones who didn’t land on their feet.” I said the words in passing, and Cain was the first to react, his chuckle leaving a vibrating hum across my already heated skin.

I dragged my tongue around the rim of the glass, my legs curled under me. I felt more protected than I had my entire life, the three men keeping their weapons close.

There were also at least six of Cain’s soldiers protecting the perimeter. They were nervous that the game was escalating. In truth, so was I. The last words written on my dressing room mirror remained in the forefront of my mind.

They’d confessed everything, although Hunter and Cristiano had done most of the talking while Cain had kept his dark eyes pinned on me. He’d tossed back at least three glasses of expensive Macallan scotch while they’d answered my questions, and I’d provided what limited information I had in return.

What none of them had asked about was my father. But it was on Cain’s mind. I could feel the intense hum of his anger just below the surface. He wanted to rip my father’s head off.

I understood why, but I wouldn’t allow the man who’d raised me to be killed because of…

The truth wouldn’t set him free. In fact, I suspected it would destroy him more than I originally thought.

To learn my father had been called the Iceman because he showed no remorse was strange, yet almost freeing. He’d killed dozens of people, on call with several crime syndicate families. For as horrid as my father had been, once home, he’d been a doting father and loving husband.

Maybe that’s why I could imagine a life spent with three dangerous, deadly men.

“Our little pet has a good point. Perhaps we should broaden our list,” Hunter said.

I eased to my feet, moving towards the set of open French doors. I’d removed my shoes, the warm summer late afternoon begging for my attention. It seemed like forever since I’d walked in my bare feet on pristine grass.

Once outside, I took a deep breath, holding the fresh air until my lungs were filled.

It’d hoped it would calm my nerves. But it didn’t.

I walked down the steps, keeping my eyes locked on the large body of water as a light breeze drifted through my hair.

Romance.

I’d mastered the art of singing my heart out, writing love songs masquerading as hard rock. My fans had eaten it up. I’d made a lot of money feeding off the energy of sexual tension. The electricity was the thing fantasies were made of. What I’d realized the moment I’d stepped foot off the plane was that every song I’d written, every ballad crooned out to a massive audience, had been about the three men I hadn’t been able to remember.

Yet their aura and the erotic magic we’d shared together had never left the back of my mind. I wondered if they had any idea how many top ten songs they’d inspired over the years. Now that I knew the source of my muse, I wondered if it would change my music.

I’d learned from Cristiano that when enrolled in Crandall U, I’d gone on late night adventures, singing my heart out while performing in costumes. He’d been there protecting me.

They’d admitted they’d stalked me, including Cain placing rose petals on my nightstands, and cameras and listening devices in the rooms.

And they’d read my stories, ones similar to what I’d penned in the middle of the night little more than a week before.

Some people would say I was crazy to continue caring about them, but the heart refused to be denied. Was it something I might regret later? I doubted it. I had a new lease on life, a need to explore the joys we shared.

Yet at that moment my heart was still heavy.

Now, I stood staring out at Lake Michigan, the water only a stone’s throw away. Cain’s estate was incredible, one of the prettiest I’d ever seen. His backyard was perfectly green, the grass rolling towards the water’s edge and dock where two boats were moored. There was even a section of beach, a gorgeous gazebo a few feet away.

I’d expected his house to be modern or gothic, but the charming gingerbread detail on the palatial estate added to the charm of the Victorian setting. So many things had surprised me about all three men, but certainly not their possessiveness. I pulled the wine glass to my lips, feeling a presence behind me.

A smile curled across my face, my mind still whirling from the upload of information they’d provided. From what I could tell, they hadn’t left out a single thing that had occurred that awful night. I was grateful the pieces had been filled in. However, the weight of having the letter meant for Cain still in my possession was strangling me. It was past time to provide what he needed to be able to heal.

If that was possible.

He was an angry man, his hatred and rage ebbing and flowing like the electricity we shared. As he closed the distance, I was immediately thrown by his exotic scent. It wrapped around me like a warm blanket, soft yet demanding at the same time.

When he brushed his fingers down the length of my arm at a lazy pace, a single tremor drifted down my spine.

“Cain,” I whispered, for no other reason than I enjoyed saying his name.

“Beautiful little Sage.”

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