“I wasn’t secret,” I whispered back.
Mr. Ace of Spades, however…I couldn’t say what he would do. I’d have to know what his endgame was for that. Everyone assumed Ned Callaghan was responsible for the death of my brother’s nanny. I knew better. It wasn’t people like Ned that left calling cards to mark their kills. It was people like me.
At first, I thought it had something to do with Nikolai. Lana was his only child, and the Bratva life wasn’t safe. Trina didn’t have shit to do with the mob, Russian or otherwise. Nor did she have a connection to The Order beyond being friends with Riley and Shelby. Meaning one of two things…
Mr. Ace of Spades had a bone to pick with my family orme. The mystery flowers leaned more toward themeoption. Couldn’t help but laugh at that.
The dumb fuck went for the wrong twin.
Maybe he’d take care of my Trina problem for me. It seemed like a win, win situation. I could fuck Marnie while her sister was gutted, and she could blame me for shit. Now there was a thought that got me hard.
I tore the towel off my waist. “Say goodbye, Little Bird.”
And thank you, Mr. Ace of Spades.
TWO DAYS LATER:
Icouldn’t breathe or see beyond the wall of muscle surrounding me.
“No more…please.”
Preston grabbed my thigh and lifted my limp leg. “I love it when you beg.”
When he plowed into me, I wanted to cry. Exhaustion came hours ago, or Or maybe it was days? I didn’t know anything beyond the way he felt inside me. That was all I’d gotten since I talked to Trina. Sex, sex, and more sex. Was I still my own person, or had we become one?
“I told you I was going to break this pussy in.”
That he did, and I’d never take one of his threats causally again.
Desperate, I whimpered, “I need to sleep.”
“You’ll sleep when I fucking say you can sleep.”
FIVE DAYS LATER
Ieyed the silver tray on the island. Everything looked good. Melon balls on the far right side, hashbrowns on the left, and the omelet centered at the top, but something was missing. Garnish maybe?
Reaching over to my right, I plucked a sprig of parsley off a potted plant and then dropped it on the omelet.
Perfect.
Cooking wasn’t a skill people expected someone like me to have. As Micha would say, we have staff for that. That was the only thing Riley Adams and I had in common. She didn’t like being waited on either, though I think it was more of a pride thing for her.
I simply didn’t like people and never invited them into my personal space. Unless, of course, there were other reasons for bringing them here. Despite valid reasons, Tico taking over one of my suites was still agitating.
Little prick insisted on having some paintings from a local café. Insisted might be a little strong. He kept whining about them. So I broke in and took them. Now, I barely recognized that room. Would he cry if I burned them? That might be an interesting theory to test later. Maybe it would calm his ass down. I was tired of dodging shit he threw every time I went in there.
“I want to see Marnie.”
We all wanted shit. Life was full of disappointments. He should be comforted by the knowledge that she was still alive. That was more than a lot of girls could say.
Why was she alive?
The past week was nothing but one long fuck fest. One would think she’d be out of my system by now. I should be bored, not getting excited every time I thought about her chained to my bed. Yet here I was, cooking her fucking breakfast with a goddamn hard-on. This shit was annoying.
Obsession didn’t even begin to explain it.
I couldn’t go five minutes without her bright eyes invading my thoughts. The air felt empty when she wasn’t around. Food tasted bland, and sounds were muffled. Except for the thrumming in my chest—that pulled me toward the room she was locked in—the world without her was empty.
