Page 69 of Pretty Little Threats

He shouts.

“Dare!” Rose’s hand grips my shoulder and tries to tug me away.

I glance at her, despising the worry on her face, because her father deserves so much worse than this, but she’ll truly see me as a monster if I give him everything he deserves. And for some fucked-up reason, I don’t want to become that person, at least not until she understands why.

“Tell your daughter you’re sorry.”

Rose shakes her head, her cheeks stained crimson. “It’s okay. I’m okay. He doesn’t have to.”

The more Rose tries to reason with me, the harder I grip Joseph’s manhood, wondering if it’s humanly possible to rip it off.

Joseph gags again, the pain too much, but there’s a mumbled statement in there.

I loosen my hold ever so slightly. “Louder.”

“He doesn’t?—”

“Rose,” I growl, and her mouth snaps shut. And I fucking hate that too. My heart is battering my ribs, so unsteady, I should be worried, but all I can focus on is making Joseph pay. “Say it,” I snarl at him.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezes, eyes bulging and lines of pain wrinkling his features.

“Good boy.” I release his crotch and slap his cheek, not hard enough to bruise like he did with Rose, but enough tohumiliate him. I can’t leave a visible mark on him. He’d call the cops.

Right now, though, he’s done worse. Joseph would be the one they’d cart away, so long as Rose would admit it was her father who hurt her, but I’m worried she’d lie to protect him out of her deranged sense of loyalty. I settle for roughly gripping his chin.

“Don’t fuck with me on this, Joe.” And with that, I shove him away.

The pain is too much for him, and he collapses onto the desk, nearly face-planting, but unfortunately he has enough strength left to slap a palm on the desk to stop himself.

I turn to Rose, hold out my hand, and wait for her to decide. She can come with me, or she can stay and take care of Daddy. Something flickers across her face. Two seconds of hesitation, but then her palm is soft against mine as she picks me over her own father. It’s only for this moment—I know that—but my chest swells with pride. I close my fingers around hers and lead her to the elevator.

She’s quiet on the ride down. I text my driver and get almost instant confirmation that he’s out front. Good. When we reach the lobby, the attendant’s gaze finds mine first. I grimace but nod in confirmation.I’ve taken care of him, for now. Relief washes over the woman’s face, but she quickly schools her face and grins at Rose, like nothing is wrong. An attempt to not make Rose feel bad.

Irene needs a better job.

“Have a good day, Rose.”

“Thank you,” Rose says, voice soft and expression perfectly pleasant, like the stark red marks littering her body don’t hurt.

How many times has she faced the world with this mask while pain rattles through her?

There are too many people in this damn lobby. I quickly usher her out to the car, crowding the side where her arm is bruised. Rose’s hair curtains her face as she stares at the ground on our way out. To anyone watching, they’d never suspect who I’m escorting out.

Remy notices something is wrong right away. He wouldn’t be worth what I pay him if he didn’t.

His forehead wrinkles and his gaze falls to Rose. There’s only the slightest reaction to what he sees, a faint clenching of his jaw. He glances back at me with so many unspoken questions. I hold his gaze and shake my head, warning him not to ask. I’ll fill him in later.

A little too late, my driver, Lance, is up and out of the car, opening the door for us. Remy shoulder checks Lance out of the way before he can get a good look at her.

Rose doesn’t notice any of this. She’s too lost in her head. I place my hand at the small of her back, and she startles, sucking in a soft breath before sliding into the vehicle first, scooting all the way across the bench.

Hand on the door, I turn and glare up at the executive level.

Remy does the same, and not for the first time, I’m happy to have a man like him as a best friend. He hates Joseph almost as much as I do. He’ll do whatever I ask. But this is one thing I don’t want Remy to touch.

In time, Joseph’s empire will be nothing more than rubble, and I want him to know it was me who destroyed it.

twenty-two

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