KINSLEY:
Creepy old man much? Are you going to ask me what I’m wearing next?
REAPER:
I like to play games. Ever play truth or dare?
KINSLEY:
Not into games, but I’m not surprised you are. Truth or dare? Not showing your age there at all, old man.
REAPER:
You’ve got forty seconds to answer. Fail, and there will be consequences.
KINSLEY:
Please don’t waste your time or mine. I want nothing to do with you or your games. Leave me alone.
Leave you alone? That won’t be happening anytime soon.Her reaction when I asked her who Pavel Lenkov was, along with the relief on her face when I showed her the picture of Anton, spoke volumes.
She may not realize it, but we’d only started our investigation. And I was having so much fun.
REAPER:
Ready, set, here we go. Where were you really born?
After a full minute of no answer and no dots dancing, I sent her a final text.
REAPER:
Time’s up. Your dare will feel more like a consequence. You should know I always get what I want. Good night, darling. Close your curtains.
She was quite a distraction. I smiled—something I rarely do—then chuckled when she flipped me off from the window. There was something exciting about her. Reason tried pushing its way to the forefront of my mind.
She could be related to a fucking Russian mobster. I sighed as I flipped through the images we had collected. She was mesmerizing. Somehow, even in picture form, her piercing gaze and enigmatic smile produced a gamut of emotions within me.
I wanted her.
The thought surprised me; she was clearly an innocent girl who probably wouldn’t have the faintest idea what to do with a man. The realization that I’d love to train her to be my submissive was both shocking and fascinating given my preference for play partners only. But god, how I would love to teach her.
Chapter 13
Kinsley
I'm Not Interested
“Seriously?” I got up and gave him the finger from my window before shutting my curtains.
My heart raced.What does he want with me? There was something distinct about him and the way he carried himself. My mind went in fifty different directions as I reread his texts.
Consequences—a word I was completely familiar with, but at least his weren’t immediate. But let him try anything funny; he’d be met with the sharp edge of my blade or a small piece of metal flying through the air as it leaves the chamber at twice the speed of sound.
I couldn’t give it space in my head, or I’d drive myself crazy. I didn’t have time to dwell on him. Especially if it turned out his interest was Pasha, who couldn’t seem to let it go. Speaking of dance, I had an early morning shift at the café and then class right after.
Tossing and turning, I fell into a fitful sleep, willing myself not to have any nightmares. Instead, I dreamed of tattoos, hourglass timers, and playing truth or dare with the stranger with beautiful blue eyes.
As I began my shift at the café, I couldn’t shake the memory of those eyes that haunted my thoughts since yesterday. Despite my apprehension, I was relieved when the day turned out to be uneventful.
