But there was a flush on her cheeks that suggested she might be just a bit pleased by the idea of him meting out punishment to her enemies.
A distant ping startled her. He sat up slowly, eyes narrowing in realization.
“The holopad,” she murmured, sliding off the bed.
He followed her to the living room, reading over her shoulder as she studied the new messages.
She wants to do it
Fucking finally
I don’t know about this
Logan, this is what we’ve been waiting for
I know, I know. It just feels wrong
Ophelia scoffed. “Now he has a conscience? Where was that when he tried to corner me with Brandon?”
“What did you say?”
She looked up at him and quickly away, cheeks flushing again. “It’s nothing.”
He caught her chin, forcing her gaze back up. “Explain.”
When she was done, Sam wasn’t sure he would be able to abide by her rule of not murdering anyone. He paced a rut into the rug, contemplating all the ways he could kill both men without her being the wiser.
“Why do you think the others want me to do it?” She was curled up on the couch, knees tucked under her chin.
He stopped his pacing to consider the question. “I’m not sure. We saw them at that club. Perhaps they’re hoping you’ll become part of their lifestyle.”
Her nose wrinkled. “I mean… why me? I’m not exactly the kind of woman you’d be desperate to get in bed.”
He moved with inhuman speed to kneel at her feet, startling a gasp out of her.
“Of course, you are. Haven’t I been doing just that?”
Grabbing her ankles, he dragged her legs over the edge of the couch to either side of him. He’d just hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants when the doorbell rang.
CHAPTER 27
Ophelia nearly trippedover her feet as she scrambled to reach the door. Sam was still kneeling by the couch, scowling after her. She could guess what had been on his mind before they’d been interrupted.
The doorbell rang again and again, the space between each ring becoming shorter and shorter. She didn’t need to check the peephole; only one person rang her doorbell like that.
She jerked the door open impatiently, having half a mind to slap her mother’s hand away from the bell.
Her mother was dressed all in white, with a pair of designer sunglasses pushed up on the crown of her head. She swept by Ophelia without a word of greeting, having no concern for the decorum of waiting for an invitation.
“There you are,” she said, breezing into the living room. “Took you long enough.”
Ophelia shut the door with her back, crossing her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here, Mom?”
Her mother’s gaze fell on Sam, who was rising to his feet by the couch.
“Hmm. You’re dressing it up now?” She stepped closer to Sam, inspecting him like he was nothing more than an expensive piece of art. “Seems silly, though I have to admit it suits him.”
When she reached out a manicured hand to press against his abs, Ophelia crossed the room and grabbed her wrist before she’d even decided to move. Her mother stared at her in shock. Ophelia had never put her hands on her before, no matter what boundaries she crossed.
