Page 98 of His Deadly Lies

“Holy fuck, Mia.”

“Vincent.”

So much weight in a single name, and he shudders, dropping his head and breaking eye contact. I’m going to be sick to my stomach. Especially when he tries to be sensual with me. When he utters my name in return. A prayer.

“Your father wants to kill me,” I say.

He shakes his head. “I won’t let him.”

“What happens if he comes back in here with a gun? I’m scared.”

He drops the plate with a clatter, and pasta flies everywhere. “I already told you. I won’t let him kill you, Mia. You’ve got to trust me.”

Alice whimpers at the sound.

I shake my head and moan to keep Vincent facing me. “I don’t want to die a virgin,” I whisper. “Do you understand? If he’s going to hurt me, then I at least want to go out knowing I’ve been loved right.”

Oh, boy, does Vincent get the message.

I need him out of here, out of this room, and this is the fastest path to getting my limbs free. Think. Think, Mia, think.

“Are you serious?” Vincent asks.

I bite my lip. “You, Vin. Please. Take me.”

Then he starts to untie the ropes. My heart flip-flops right into my stomach and stays there, beating rapidly.

“Will you take me to your room?” My voice shakes.

I have to be smart about this. Vincent might be slender, but it’s the scrappy sort of build that street fighters use to their advantage because it lulls their opponent into a false sense of security. He’ll overpower me in a heartbeat and take what he wants if I push him too far. He left his gun behind when he went in for pasta.

I need a weapon.

Any weapon. His guards won’t easily give theirs up.

The ropes fall away from my wrists and ankles, and Vincent drags me to my feet with his arms at my elbows, baring his teeth.

“Look away.” He grunts at the guards. “Take that one somewhere else. I don’t want anyone watching us.”

His hands are hot on me, and my stomach gives a singular violent roll.

He plans to take me right here. Blood surges up to my face and then drops away, leaving me light-headed as the guards move to grip the sides of Alice’s chair and move her out of the room.

“I can't take the chance of bringing you in the house. You have to understand. If there were a better way to do this, then I would, Mia.” His hands got to my breasts, down my sides to my waist, along the curves of my ass. He squeezes. “I’ll have to take your virginity here.”

Fire flares through me. “Absolutely not.” Before he has a chance to get pissy, I follow with, “You want to start our relationship off on the right foot, don’t you, Vincent?” I force myself to touch him in return, my hands itching to close around his neck. “Happy wife, happy life. I will not be happy if you take what’s yours on a dirty floor.”

He considers my refusal before grabbing my arm. “Fine. We’ll go to my office,” he replies, his eyes traveling over my body in a predatory way.

Just because I’m free doesn’t mean I’m helpless. Anything can be a weapon if you’re determined enough.

At least I made a decent enough argument. The men drop Alice, and both smirk slightly as Vincent caveman-drags me into a long, dimly lit hallway leading to a bolted iron door at the end. His grip bites into my skin hard enough to leave bruises as he unlocks the latch and opens the door.

The corridor beyond is done in muted tones of cream and off-white. The main house. A left turn leads us to an open room with glass French doors leading out to a patio. Here the colors are more masculine but in poor taste. Shades of crimson and black, with antique weapons hammered into the wall and a black marble surround on the fireplace. A den of iniquity, I think to myself, but chock full of things I can use to bash Vincent’s head in when, not if, he touches me again.

“Do you like what you see?” he asks.

Finally, he lets go of me and locks the door behind him, leaning against the wood and setting me with a look that leaves no doubt about what’s about to happen.

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