It feels like a cold wind just swept through me and I shiver, the light silk dress not offering any comfort. I know I must look like some wide-eyed escapee from a convent but it’s hard to know how to react. He’s got me pressed against the glass, placing one hand on either side of my shoulders, and caging me. The sheersize of him feels like he’s displaced all the oxygen around us, making it hard to draw a full breath.
“Why is everything so dark?” The black marble floors of the club blend in with the deep crimson and cobalt walls, with beautifully framed photographs of all kinds of filth.
“My guests are wanting a dark place for doing dark deeds. I’d love to take you on a tour,” he purrs, “and see what you like. Your breath is already comin’ faster, making your perfect breasts heave, and your pupils are so expanded that your eyes look almost as black as mine. Tell me, baby, where is your favorite place to play?”
“None of these,” I bite my lip uncomfortably, releasing it as his gaze lands on my mouth and he grins. “I’m not particularly experimental.”
“Really? Because your gaze seemed to linger on the submissive hanging from those hooks, helpless to move without direction from her master.”
“There were a lot of knots,” I snap defensively, “I was a Girl Guide when I was younger. I could have gotten six merit badges for tying that lot.” Ducking under his arm, I scuttle sideways, crablike, to the relative safety of the corner seating.
Chuckling, he folds his arms, leaning against the glass and watching me like a hawk searching for a tasty squirrel in the underbrush. “I’ve embarrassed you.”
“I believe that was the plan when you wanted to meet in this sex Disneyland. Let’s finish our business. Proof of… his…” I flounder, “His death?”
I’m a murderer. Uncle William is dead because of me.
Snagging a folder off his desk, he sits next to me, close enough to feel his muscled thigh, thick and warm against mine.
“Are you sure?” He’s got his hand on top of the folder. “It’s not pretty.”
“I have to be sure. How long ago?”
“Nine hours,” he hands it to me and I suck in a breath as I pull out the first photo.
Uncle Bast- Uncle William is indeed dead and in horrifying, technicolor glory. His throat was cut, I can see the gaping wound, curved like a demon’s grin. The blood spray is horrific, drenching his grey suit and turning his white shirt crimson.
“He was at his mistress’s place,” he says, “enjoying everything that a full three minutes of premature ejaculation has to offer.”
“Oh, no. Oh, shit!” My hand covers my mouth when the rest of the photos spill onto my lap. “You killed Jonathan!”
He doesn’t look upset by it, though there’s a frown between his brows. “Why do you care? Were you fucking him?”
“What?” I tear my gaze away from the images. “No! Jonathan was my father’s best bodyguard; he’s supposed to be on Zed’s security detail. Why was he there?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “but he was the only one who knew what the hell he was doing. I had to take him out lass, to get to Uncle Bastard.”
“He’s been with our family since I was a child,” I offer numbly.
“What about the other two?”
“I don’t know them.”
Our security is very tight-knit. Uncle William must have brought in some outside talent. That’s not good. I’m going to have to runa sweep and see who else he’s added to the payroll without our knowledge.
Suddenly, it all overwhelms me. What else has Uncle William done? What has he promised these so-called allies? How much damage has he done since he murdered my parents? A small sob rips from me before I can stop it.
“Hey, hey now love. You’ll be all right.” I’m on his lap before I know what’s happening and he’s got his arms around me, rocking me gently. “I warned you about the pictures, aye?”
“It’s not the pictures,” I say, angrily swallowing down another sob that wants to escape. “What else has he been up to? Who can I trust?”
Realizing that I’m perched on his thighs, I struggle to get up and he merely tightens his arms. “You said that your brother was smart. He’ll find the rot Uncle Bastard started and clear it out.”
“You are a very strange hitman,” I mumble, stiff and uncomfortable on his lap. “I don’t think killers for hire comfort their clients afterward.”
He finds this hilarious, throwing back his perfectly shaped head and laughing heartily. “Ah, well. This one was a bit of a side project.”
Finally twisting my way free, I stumble back a few steps. He’s still relaxed on the couch, shamelessly man-spreading with one arm over the back of the cushions. His chin is down a bit and he’s eyeing me like a predator again.
