Chapter 32 Episode 32
1610 Words
“Okay, but… if you can’t trust me, why are you telling me allof this? Don’t drag it out. Don’t torture me. If you’re going tokill me, just kill me.”
I curl my fingers around her delicate wrists and bend down somy face is only inches away, forcing her to look me in theeyes. “I don’t kill people for no reason.”
“You killed that man tonight,” she says. “In the middle of ourdinner.”
“Then I must’ve had a reason.”
She scoffs. “How could you have had a reason? We weretalking, having a good time, and then you got up and left. Youwere only gone a few minutes when I followed. What couldhave happened in a few minutes to be worthy of death?”
“He was spying on us. On me,” I say. “After I warned his bosswhat would happen if I caught his men doing exactly that. Thebastard was asking for it.”
Her brow furrows. “And Giorgos Simatou is the man’s boss?”
“I thought you didn’t want to know anything.”
She glares up at me. “Consider it my last wish.”
I bite back a smile. She was begging me to send her home, andnow, she’s asking for more information. Curiosity really mightkill this cat.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” My eyes dart down toher cleavage, where the skin is flushed with anger and fear.
Her glare crystallizes. “I’m sure.”
I chuckle. “Yes, Giorgos is the man’s boss. He and I areworking together, but it seems he doesn’t trust me. He’s beenhaving me followed to make sure I’m not breaking ourarrangement. But I don’t much care for surveillance.”
“That doesn’t make it okay,” she bites out. “Your life isn’tworth more than his.”
“Depends who you ask. To me, my life is much moreimportant.”
“Being rich and powerful doesn’t make you more important!”
“Maybe not, but unfortunately for the deceased, being rich andpowerful allows me to call the shots. And I decided he neededto die. Therefore, he’s dead.”
Belle squeezes her eyes closed, taking deep breaths. When shefinally looks up at me again, her eyes are glassy. “How are yougoing to do it?”
I smooth my thumbs over the soft skin on the inside of herarms. “Do what?”
“Kill me,” she rasps, barely able to get the words out. “Howare you going to kill me?”
I lean forward, my voice low. “Now, lapochka, why would Iever want to kill you?”
“Because you just confessed everything to me.”
“So… I’m a loose end, aren’t I?”
“It’s your word against mine,” I say with a shrug.
I snort. “Are you trying to convince me to kill you? Because Iwasn’t planning on it, but if you’d like to make an argument,then—”
“No! No. But—I don’t—why would you tell me all of this ifyou aren’t planning to kill me?” she whimpers. “I don’tunderstand.”
I smile and lean even closer. “Because there is no one in theworld you can tell who will believe you. The police alreadythink you’re a problem, and half of them are on my payroll. Iknow where your sister is right this second. Plus, I have ourlittle home movie as a backup plan to keep you quiet.”
She narrows her eyes into furious slits. “That video isn’t proofof anything.”
“It’s proof that you willingly submitted to me,” I tell her. “It’sproof that you’re in this with me. That you and I are workingtogether. Or, at the very least, you knew more than you let on.”
More to the point, it’s proof that she feels this animal thingbetween us, too. She just can’t fight it off as well as I can.
“It would be easier to kill me,” she whispers.
Her breath is warm on my face. “Maybe. But it would bemuch less fun.”
Belle licks her bottom lip, and I want to take it in my mouth. Iwant to taste every part of this confounding woman.
And based on the way her eyes are taking me in, I think shefeels the same way.
Suddenly, she exhales sharply and pulls back. As far as shecan while still being restrained, anyway. But when she jerksaway, I notice her wince.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, stepping back to assess her.
She shakes her head. “It’s just my ankle.”
I look down at her leg. It’s obviously injured. The swelling Inoticed in the stairwell has doubled since I tied her up and herankle is pressing tightly against the ropes.
I grab my knife off my desk—the same one I plunged into aman’s neck not even an hour ago—and cut the ties around herright leg. As soon as she’s free, Belle straightens and bends herknee. Then she tries to roll her ankle, but winces again.
“I’m fine,” she says. “Just let me go.”
I ignore her and turn to my minibar. It looks like a normalwooden cabinet, but the bottom drawer is a freezer and the topdrawer is a refrigerated liquor cabinet. I reach into the freezerand pull out a handful of ice.
“I’m not making you a drink, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I wouldn’t accept it anyway,” she hisses. “Might bepoisoned.”
“There are much more interesting ways to kill you if I chose.”
I drop the ice on my desk and start unbuttoning my shirt withdamp fingers.
“What are you doing now?” she asks again with even moreurgency in her voice.
“Why?” I taunt. “Interested in filming a sequel?”
Her top lip curls in disgust. “You’re a pig.”
I peel my shirt off, not missing the way Belle’s eyes trail overmy chest and abs. Then I tie off the end of my shirt sleeve anddrop the ice into it.
When I turn back with the makeshift ice pack and kneel infront of her, Belle presses her knees together.
The urge to part her legs and make her feel better in an entirelydifferent way is almost overpowering. But I resist the desireand press the ice pack against her ankle instead.
She winces but lifts her foot slightly as I secure my shirtaround her leg, one of my hands gripping her lean, smoothcalf. Her skin is warm against my fingers, her musclestrembling.
“You can stop shaking. I’m not going to kill you, Belle.”
She forces her body to still. “I know. I’m not scared of you.”
She looks down at me, her brows pinched together. “Huh?”
“I said I won’t kill you. I didn’t say you shouldn’t be afraid ofme.”
She gulps. “But I’m not,” she croaks eventually.
“Then I take it back,” I say, dragging my finger over her otherknee and down her shin. Goosebumps blossom in the wake ofmy touch. “Maybe you aren’t a smart girl. Because when itcomes to me, you should be very, very afraid.”
I move up to untie her wrists, but she doesn’t loosen her holdon the arms of the chair. Her knuckles are white. “If you aren’tgoing to kill me, why should I be afraid?”
I draw dangerously close to her mouth as I loosen the ropesand let them fall to the floor. Unconsciously, she angles herface up towards mine, her lips parting on a soft sigh.
“Because, beautiful Belle, there are worse things than death,” Iwhisper. “And I’m well-versed in all of them.”
Just before our lips touch, I pull away and leave her alone inmy office.
I’m on my phone, rewatching the security footage of Bellelimping out of my office.
I grimace. I should have escorted her back to the hotel. Iwasn’t lying when I said her dying could be a problem for me,and I sure as hell don’t need the police sniffing aroundanymore than normal.
At least, that’s the reason I tell myself.
The truth is that I despise seeing her injured. Seeing her alone.
A wadded-up cocktail napkin lands on my screen. I look up tosee Arslan staring at me around the stripper straddling his lap.“You look like you’re at a fuckin’ funeral, man,” he yells overthe music.
Arslan glances at the bottle-dyed blonde grinding against him,but she’s not paying attention to what we’re saying. She’sgetting paid good money to dance on his c**k, so that’s whatshe’s doing.
The rest of the dancers are congregated around our table, all ofthe women smiling in my direction and batting their lashes inhopes of an invitation. They know Arslan is throwing aroundcash like it’s going out of style, and they’re wondering if I’llfollow suit.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Tonight was asuccess,” Arslan says. “You set out to get two birds with one
stone, right? And as I see it, we did that. So you might as wellcelebrate by getting your stones off with one of these beautifulbirds now.”
I roll my eyes. “Your metaphors need work.”
He flips me off. “Maybe a dance will make you feel better.Pick your poison. My treat.”
I scrub my hand down my face. Maybe a dance is exactly whatI need to get her off my mind.
- Writer
