“Mind yourself,” Viper says coolly, but I’m not sure if it’s a warning to watch my attitude or a reminder to keep my composure and their cover.
“Mind yourself, Mr. Campbell,” I snap, straightening my dress.
Behind us, Clyde’s car slows to a stop. He gets out and stalks toward us, eyeing Viper, and stops inches away but remains silent.
I smooth my dress down, my hand stopping at my belly.
Some silent exchange happens between them, both men glancing my way briefly before Viper turns toward the driver. “I won’t need you anymore tonight.”
The man nods and gets back in the car and drives away, leaving the three of us alone.
Viper offers his hand again. I look down at his open palm, and, for a heartbeat, I can barely breathe. Viper has been so many things in the past month. He was my captor. My company when I was too scared to be left alone in that room. A confusing mix of lust and longing. I’ve seen so many sides of him I shouldn’t be surprised at the version of him right now.
Yet I am.
I have no idea who this man is. He’s Viper, yes, the man who stole me, fucked me, claimed Delly and me, but at the same time, he’s not him. He’s colder. Harder. So not like the man who held me in the bathroom of that worn-down factory and promised to kiss every inch of my skin to remind me I was his.
And now I am his.
Handed over by Rune.
My belly flutters at the thought as I place my hand in his warm palm. I cast a glance at Clyde. His slight nod reminds me that this is okay. We are okay.
I’m okay.
With Clyde at my back, Viper pulls me up the stairs and through the doors. When we enter the house, we’re greeted not just by an immense open room and ornate decorations, but by an older woman wearing an all-black uniform. Viper says something to her in Spanish, but my knowledge of the language isn’t nearly at the level of his. He thanks her, then guides me to a set of stairs.
“You’ll stay in the guest house,” he says to Clyde over his shoulder, not bothering to look at him. Then he trains his eyes on a large doorway toward the left and shouts, “Constance.”
A small, middle-aged woman appears. “Yes, sir.”
“Ms. Julian will be our guest. Please have a few items for her delivered. Clothes and such.” He gestures to Clyde. “Her bodyguard will provide details. And please make him comfortable in the guesthouse. Anything he needs.”
She gives him a quick nod, then rushes toward Clyde. I cast a glance back at him as Viper drags me toward a massive stairway framed in thick pillars.
Money is a fickle thing. It’s earned, stolen, easily lost and just as easily gained with some good luck and connections, or you take it by force and fuck people over.
But power, just like Viper said, is created.
Rune is wealthy. I grew up in luxury, but this is a level that goes beyond our reach. Now I know why Rune is so desperate to get the Snyder Group on his side. It isn’t just money the men possess. This is true power, and it radiates from the man before me.
I look around, taking in the open courtyard in the center of the home, the palms that reach up toward the metal and glass ceiling, and the lavish furniture, wondering where Breaker went, and remind myself I don’t know them.
You’re the payment, Cora.I take a slow breath as Viper leads me upstairs to the second floor.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“No talking,” Viper says, his voice low. When we pass a small woman carrying a bundle of towels down the hall, he stops and thanks her for her hard work, then tells her she’s dismissed for the evening.
As she nods and scurries away, it hits me. They can’t slip for a minute.Wecan’t slip. Not in front of the staff or anywhere there may be eyes because they have no idea who is watching.
With the realization, I jerk my hand away from Viper. “If you think I’m fucking you, Mr. Campbell, you’re sadly mistaken.”
Slowly, he turns on his heel, and when his fiery gaze lands on me, heat blooms in my core. Viper takes one, two, steps toward me, stopping inches away, his eyes ignited with a menacing fire. He’s so much bigger than me, not just in height but in sheer bulk, that I suck in a breath.
Viper is scary, but Vincent Campbell is terrifying.
He grips my neck. My clit pulses. He moves forward, and his chest hits mine. I stumble backward until I hit the wall. A large picture frame digs into my spine as he presses his body to me, shoving his thigh between my legs. My dress rides up, and my pulse hammers.
