My heart stopped.
Laughing, he tugged at my waistband. “Clothing off.”
Jasmine said, “Father, the spikes will hurt enough—”
“Not nearly enough.” His glare was enough to incinerate her.
Sighing, Jaz faced me. “Take them off.” Holding out her arm like a temporary hanger, she narrowed her eyes. “Quickly.”
Gritting my teeth, I fumbled with the hem of my jumper. I should be comfortable being naked around these people—it’d happened often enough—but being asked to strip brought furious, degrading tears to my eyes.
Breathing hard, I yanked my jumper off and undid my jeans. Shimmying them down my legs, I shivered at the biting air. The dining room had a fire roaring in the imposing fireplace, but the flames hadn’t extinguished the wintery chill.
A resounding thud landed behind me.
Oh, no!
Cut’s eyes dropped to the ruby encrusted dirk lying in full view.
I wanted to curl up and die. I’d become so used to it wedged against my back, I forgot the knife was there.
Cut gave me a sly smile, bending to pick it up.
Quick!
Squatting, I scooped up the blade before he had chance. His eyes widened as I brandished it in his face. “Don’t touch me.”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Nila.”
My mouth watered at the thought of somehow stabbing everyone in the heart all at once.
Jabbing the air between Cut and me, I snarled, “I should’ve done this months ago. I should’ve murdered you the moment I met you.”
His body stiffened. “Just try it.” His eyes flickered behind me. “You have two choices. Try and attack me and pay. Or hand over the knife and pay.”
“I’d rather kill you and win.”
“Yes, well, that will never happen.” Snapping his fingers, he ordered, “Colour, take the knife.”
I whirled around but was too late. Colour, a Black Diamond brother who I’d seen once or twice, yanked the dirk from my hand like a rattle from a baby. My fingers throbbed with emptiness as Colour handed the blade to Cut.
My fight evaporated.
I’d tried.
My one rebellion was over, and what was my reward?
Pain and humiliation.
“Thank you, Colour.”
Colour nodded, retreating back to his hidey-hole by the fireplace. The large rococo style fire-surround hid most of him from view, giving the illusion of privacy.
Cut waved the blade in my face. “Rather interesting piece of equipment to have down your jeans, Nila.” Running the sharp edge over my collar, his face darkened. “Not only are you a troublemaker, but you’re also a thief.”
Placing the dirk down his own waistband, he smiled evilly. “I’ll remember that for future payments.”
Standing in a black bra and knickers, I squeezed my eyes. Nothing was going as I’d planned. Where was my courage—the belief that I would plunge that blade into his heart the moment I had the chance?
