Series: Penny Dee
Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“You’re fucking him?” Cian asks in disbelief.
“So it would appear. Why else would I be here while I wait for him?”
“I’m here.” Cian’s head swings around at the sound of my voice. I know exactly where his men are in my club, and so do my men. I allow them to come in under the guidance that they play nicely. Or I may very much fucking kill them all. And he is getting a little too close to what’s mine for my liking.
“You’re seeing the doc…” he says. Ignoring him, I keep my eyes on her. If not Leonore Graves, then who? Her deep emerald eyes shine against the passing light from the dance floor.
“You should walk away, before you can no longer walk,” I say to Cian, but my eyes are on her. “We should dance,” I suggest, and she scrunches up her nose. All these minor details I’ve come to know of her … all belong to someone else? But even if I don’t know her name, it doesn’t change the sharp intellect behind her eyes or the heavy distance she always tries to keep between us.
“I don’t dance,” she says, but I definitely saw her hips sway slightly before this piece of shit interrupted. Those secrets between us make me want to only uncover more. I take the drink from her hand as Cian steps away, completely forgotten, and reach for her, pulling her out to the crowded dance floor. Immediately, her hands go to my chest as I pull us close. I want her to be squished so she has no other option but to touch me.
“You dance for me, or have you forgotten?” I tell her, my hands finding her hips and bringing her even closer as she looks up to me.
“This is not fun for me.” Oh, but how this has suddenly turned more fun for me.
“It is for me, watching you squirm. I quite enjoy it.” And I wonder what amount of pressure will break her to uncover those truths. “What else can we do next that puts you out of your comfort zone?”
“I would say die, but that is my comfort zone.” I love her dry humor, dark and delicious. And so I decide at this moment that my focus is on uncovering her truths and figuring out who lives beneath the mask of Leonore Graves.
“But who would you examine alive then?” Her emerald eyes shoot up to mine.
“I’m sure I can find someone…” She leaves the words hanging.
“I’m contemplating having a contract made, in case I die that is,” I tell her.
“Okay … you are weird.”
“That if I die, they’re still to kill any man who makes a move on you or who you try to take home.”
“That’s a bit fucked up. We’ve only had sex a handful of times, and you’re already putting me in your will.”
“You’d be the sole beneficiary, I reckon,” I tease her.
“Yeah, well, I’d be the one to cover up your death, you know, because I couldn’t incriminate myself; I would lose my job.”
“For my death?” I ask her. We completely ignore the loud music and the bodies floating near us.
“Yes, you would have done something to piss me off, of that I am sure…”
“I have no doubt.” I lift her chin so I can lean down and kiss her. She lets me, her hands even lift from my chest to snake around my neck as she pushes her body into mine. I can taste the alcohol on her tongue and want to replace it with my cock.
Fuck.
I’m falling hard for the fucked-up doctor hiding behind a mask.
I suspect that she’s no better than me. She’s always so reluctant to join me, but once she’s in my arms, she can’t help but carve her nails in deeply and possessively—even if she hasn’t realized it herself.
I quite enjoy a game of cat and mouse, and I wonder if she even knows that I will certainly be her demise. Because once I’m determined, there’s no changing my mind.
31
LEONORE
It’s close to midnight as I lean over an urgent job that arrived forty minutes ago. A man wearing dress pants, a silk shirt, and a pair of three-hundred-dollar shoes. He died in a nightclub skirmish between the Hayes and the Neros.
Two hours ago, he was a living, breathing man who didn’t realize the end was so brutally close. I can still smell the whiskey on his lips.
He didn’t stand a chance against his wounds. Two bullets. One in his neck. The other in his heart. Whoever did this knew what they were doing.
I remove the first bullet with the experience of someone who has done this more times than she cares to admit and drop it into the stainless steel dish on the counter beside me.
The second bullet comes out with ease, and I drop it beside the first one.