Page 24 of Cruel Pleasures
“Stop wasting my time. My time is valuable. I could be out doing something worthwhile. Seeking out another tourist to off. Fucking Talia Weinberg. Watching paint dry. All more entertaining than speaking to you. Are you still not understanding?”
“You make me so, so proud, Archer. I’m so glad I didn’t listen to your father when he suggested we put you in an orphanage. You had such a large, bald head as a baby, you see. He believed it was abnormal?—”
I storm from the parlor much like I hung up on her earlier. I have no more patience to deal with her stupidity, and if she attempts to summon me again, I’ll make good on my earlier threat. Her precious marble statue will be blasted into a million little pieces. One of the last vestiges of the past she’s clinging to.
I stalk the dark halls of the silent estate. Most of the guests have turned in for the night. Both club members and the players in the games (not that the latter has a choice in the matter). I make it to the third floor hall when I stop and smirk, sensing his presence.
“Do you really think I don’t know you’re there? The least you can do is come out and show yourself.”
An old friend of sorts and my most formidable rival steps out of the shadows he’s been lurking in. Dark shadows he prefers.
Ryu Kimura steps into the dim candlelight illuminating the hall. Black clothes, black hair, and even blacker eyes, he carries a sorrowful air about him like some kind of angel of death. An energy he’s had since the moment I met him many years ago.
We’ve known each other since we were children attending the Easton Preparatory School for Adolescent Boys. Along with others like Nolan Ramsey, Klein Fairchild, and of course, Kaden Raskova, we were the up and coming generation of the rich and powerful men who fathered us. Each neurotic and fucked up in our own way.
“I see you’ve been given your marching orders,” Ryu says calmly, his tone quiet and impassive.
“I take marching orders from no one. This is a fun pastime for me. Nothing more.”
“The Hostess asked the same of me.”
“She tends to hate my guts,” I answer, bored. “It makes sense she’d seek assistance elsewhere. She and my mother can never get on the same fucking page.”
“This is not the task for you. Leave it for someone less… impulsive.”
I hack out a laugh. “Like you? And give up all the fun to be had? Why ever would I do that?”
“This needs to be handled in a way that prevents the girl from catching on. It needs discretion. Something you lack.”
“This needs to be handled in the way I’ll decide to handle it. But, by all means, if you think you can do better, you’re welcome to try.” I grin at him, folding my arms. “It might be fun to have a little… competition.”
“I have no competition.”
“You’re above such things, right? Sure, you are.”
“I assure you, however far along you believe you are, I am already closing in.”
“Then you should have no issue with me and my task. May the best man win.”
I turn my back on Ryu and stride away. Within seconds, he’s vanished, melted into the dark corners of the century-old manor.
You’d think I’d retire to my room for the night like everyone else under this roof. In a few minutes, it’ll be three a.m. and I’ve been up for two days straight. But, as a chronic and neurotic insomniac, I have no interest in bed.
My interest at the moment lies in my task. My new pet project for the next two weeks. Catching the little sneaky minx that’s wandered into our midst. Making sure she never makes it off the shores of the Isle of Hurst again.
A whole new level of the Midnight Games she has no idea she’s playing.
I let myself into the manor’s surveillance room where almost every inch of the massive property is viewable through an elaborate camera system. Many of these cameras, like the ones placed carefully within the bedrooms, are hidden and unknown.
Only a select few rooms like mine, Mother’s, and the Hostess’s are without the secret watchful eyes of technology.
The room is covered wall to wall with TV screens showing me any part of Hurst Manor I wish to see. I drop down in the chair positioned in front of the control panel and zoom in on Room 313, none other than Imani Makune’s room.
The naughty little minx is still awake. Her luggage is splayed open on her bed, and she paces round and round the room talking to herself, fiddling with her phone that has no connection.
Stripped down to her bra and panties, she believes she’s alone. That there are no prying eyes watching her in private moments such as these, where she’s locked away inside her sleeping quarters.
She makes for great content and pleasurable eye candy. From the meltdown to the way her undergarments conform to her curvy, plump body, it’s pure entertainment.
