Two years ago, I murdered the love of Grace Garrett’s life.
I had it all – a thriving company, money, women at my beck and call. Then I shot and killed James Winthrop. And got away with it.
His beautiful fiancé is ruined, so damaged she’s destroying herself. And I’m the reason why.
Nothing and nobody can save her. Except me. Only I know how to help her start again. By wiping the slate clean. Breaking her down until she’s brand new. And rewarding her obedience with the one thing she truly needs. Vengeance against me.
It gives me a corrupt pleasure to imagine how she feels as I approach. Her ear turned toward the awful sound. Her heart throbbing in time with my steps. My heavy stride coming closer until it stops right outside her door.
I’m enjoying my power way too much already, and I’ve barely begun to use it.
I stand in the hallway. She’s just a few feet away. Mere inches. She has no idea what I’ve already done to her. How hard I came while she lay like a stunned bird in bed next to me.
Eyes pinned to her face, I pressed her tiny hand to my chest. I talked to her while I pumped my fist, hoping somewhere in her senseless mind, she could hear me.
“You know what this big cock could do to you, baby girl? See how much come I have for you?”
I raise my thumb to the sensor by the door and press it. I can feel her fear through the wall. Energy surges through me, a second wind so strong it makes me sweat. My exhaustion is gone. I’m high on what’s about to happen. I’ll be all that matters in her world in three…two…one.
The door swings open slowly. I’m wired. My body feels tight and ready to spring.
Light from the hall spills into the dark room. She’s standing under the window with her forearms clutched to her chest. I can see her pale, slim legs and long neck. The white wisp of a robe barely covers her.
Her breathing is quick but soft. In a moment, that will change.
I press another sensor and the light springs on overhead. I’ve been waiting hours for this moment. Fucking years.
I have just enough time to appreciate the captive specimen of femininity in front of me before her pupils dilate and the blood drains from her face. Clutching the lapels of the robe, she shrinks away.
“What the fuck,” she hisses.
She backs up until the wall jolts her shoulder blades. Silky auburn strands fall over one eye.
I step inside and shut the door. The lock clicks.
“You fucking criminal,” she spits out. “You kidnapped me.” Her voice is scratchy but still soft and high. As if it never caught up when her body developed.
“I’m sure that’s how it looks,” I say.
Her hands clench into trembling fists. “Stay away from me.”
Fear suffuses her skin, turning her chest and neck a deep red. Her bright, aqua eyes never leave my face. Her whole body is vibrating.
Suddenly, with a sharp intake of breath, she starts to scream.
The sound pierces my brain like a baby’s cry. Her pretty pink tongue quivers and her white, straight teeth open and clench.
Poor thing. She’s so beautiful, bathed, and dolled up for me. A wretch gone astray. A fatherless filly who’s wandered into a lion’s den.
Buy on Amazon
About the Author
Rose Devereux writes shamelessly dark romance. In her other life, she is a traditionally published author whose books have been translated into five languages. Reviews of her novels have appeared in Cosmopolitan, The Boston Globe, New York Magazine, and the Associated Press. She loves animals, sleeping late, and alpha males, and would drink Prosecco every day at lunch if she could. She lives in Boston and New Hampshire.