Page 50 of Made in Malice

I launch myself off the bed when I hear the beep triggered by the opening gate. Lucian’s home. Skidding to a halt, I peel back the curtain to look down at the unfamiliar car parked near the garage. Both doors open, proving she’s at least walking in of her own free will… I hope so, anyway.

I dash to the game room to hide myself behind one of the hidden entrances. I’ve been thinking about what he would do with her if he actually succeeded in getting her back here tonight.

The fact that he’s bringing her to the main house speaks volumes. No one comes here. When we used to have parties, it was always at the beach house or on the islet off the coast if things were going to get really crazy. I had a feeling he would want her here, but on the off chance he didn’t, I knew I could get to the beach house through the tunnels.

Minutes pass in silence, and I start to question if I was wrong about where he’d take her in the house. Maybe they are downstairs. I can’t fathom him taking her to his room, at least not yet.

Finally, my brother’s voice hums through the wall, and I lean my head closer so I can try to make out his words. I don’t feel guilty for eavesdropping, because he probably knows exactly where I am.

“You can sit down, you know,” Lucian drawls. I wish we had cameras in the room. I bet he’s already sprawled out on the sofa, taking up as much room as possible so she’s forced to decide where to sit and how close she’s willing to get to him.

Let’s see where this goes.

LUCIAN

She’s slinking around the room, pretending to examine everything, and I have no doubt she is, but she’s also biding her time and trying to keep her distance from me.

“I’m here. Talk.”

I let out a soft chuckle, and she snaps her head around to look over at me with suspicion.

“What’s so funny?” she demands.

I rearrange myself on the center of the huge, black couch, and she watches every move as if she’s entranced, or maybe she’s scared of what I might do next. Either way, I like the way she’s looking at me. “Do you know how many people have been in this house or seen this room?”

“A lot?” She shrugs off my question and resumes her stroll around my sanctuary.

I watch her get dangerously close to the place where Nox is lurking, but she has no idea he’s there. The only reason I do is because I know him so well, and because of our bond. There’s just some part of me that’s always aware of him, like a phantom limb, and it’s the same for him. Well, it was before our parents died. Since then, he’s cut himself off from everyone, even me.

“Other than family and staff, no one,” I tell her truthfully. “And here you are. Why do you think that is, lamb?”

I watch her throat move when she swallows and averts her eyes from mine. “Probably because you’re going to kill me,” she mumbles, but I have no problem hearing her.

“I’m not going to kill you. I want to use you.”

“For what?” She’s glaring again. Damn, why do I like her like this, frightened one second and defiant the next?

I chuckle again. She’s not ready for the truth about all the ways I want to use her, even if fucking seems to be the first thing on her mind if her reaction is any indication. “What use could a man like me have for a girl like you?” I allow my heated stare to roam over her figure, feeding into her annoyance.

I like the fit of her shirt, since it shows off her tits, but I hate that she has someone else’s name across her chest, even if it’s just a bar. She finally ditched the baggy pants too. Tonight, she’s wearing skintight black leggings that stop just below her knees, and I didn’t notice a panty line the many times I was checking out her ass.

Her chin lowers a fraction, but it’s those sea blue eyes that get me when they pierce right through me as if I’m not even worthy of speaking to her. “That’s what I’ve been trying to find out from you, pretty boy.”

If anyone else on the planet called me that, or any other name that was meant to be an insult, I would end them, but when she says it, filled with disdain as if my looks are something bad, I take joy in the fact that she’s admitting I’m handsome because I know it pisses her off.

“We can start with you helping me take down your family.”

“Oh, just that?” she mocks airily.

“Sit down. I know your feet hurt.” My tone is harsh, making my words seem like a dig instead of an offer like I intended. Oh well, I’ve never been accused of being nice.

She sniffs haughtily. “You don’t know anything.”

“Then why do you keep shifting all your weight to one foot?” I can see her toes moving around through the canvas of her shitty shoes.

“I’m not.” Her brows furrow as she looks down, unaware that she has been telegraphing her pain.

“Sit down on your own, or I will help you.” I lean forward to let her know I’m dead serious. I have no problem planting her ass on the couch, and it will be in a much different spot than she would choose for herself.

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