Page 135 of Nash

My savage man is joking … my hot accountant is not.

He cracks the jewelry box open, and I gasp. They’re black diamond earrings shaped like little, coiled snakes with long, dangling tails. “Oh my god,” I sigh. “They’re too expensive. I can’t accept them.”

“The hell you won’t. I’ll spoil you into being an even sexier brat.”

“Nash, I can’t wea?—”

“Vale,” he looms over me, “my queen wears my jewels. Always.” Tenderly, he kisses the new diamond above my lip. It’s sore, but…

Okay, if he insists.

While he removes the arrangement from the flower vase left by the hotel and sets my tulips inside it, I put on my new earrings. They dangle, tickling my neck.

They have me smiling to Delta’s while one of Nash’s guards drives us in a black Mercedes—the symbolism not lost on me. When we arrive, I clock armed security lurking in every dark corner. Silently, I hold Nash’s hand while he leads me inside. Jace isn’t at his usual post. Some random guard sits there instead as we stride upstairs.

“Is everyone already here?” I whisper.

“Almost,” he answers. “I’ve warned you.” We stop at the top of the landing on the third floor. Gently, Nash lifts my stare to his. “You know what happens tonight. You know what I have to do.”

Of course, we fuss about it one last time before I insist, “Iwantyou to do it.” Then I kiss him as passionately as I can.

How else can I shut his sexy mouth? How else can I convince him I’m in a make-me-your-queen-in-an-orgy kinda mood?

The door at the end of the hallway slowly opens, stopping us. I glance at the ominous sight and stifle a gasp.

It looks like a scene from that hot, soft porno mafia movie. You know, the one with a year of kinky kidnapping and sexy spit?

The doorknob, keyhole, and hinges on the black door gleam in gold. The Acanthus carvings on the black columns and molding around the door glimmer in gold leaf, too. They glow in the sconce light illuminating the dark hallway while large silhouettes loom in the doorway, candlelight flickering behind them.

It’s Axel … with five men shadowing him and one petite woman standing by his side.

She’s dressed like me in a Chanel skirt suit, but hers is navy. What thrills me is that she’s wearing a black silk blindfold over a black lace bondage hood, with her hair, eyes, and face concealed except for her ruby lips.

Around her neck is a dainty, black collar; its gold chain attached to the handle Axel gently tugs. She smirks at his control as classical music, Tchaikovsky, the Russian composer, gently lulls in the background.

With a snarl, Axel taunts Nash, “Is your princess ready to be a queen?”

But, you know … I don’t buy Axel’s extra asshole act anymore.

Yes, he looks like a sinister son of a proud bitch (who I love), but there’s more to him; I’m beginning to give the asshat a lot of credit now.

So he can take a seat, asking Nash because it’s for me to answer, “Yes. I. Am.”

Our steps aim for the room.

The silhouette of the kings blocking my view is eerie and erotic. All the while, I feel like someone’s watching us. Tingles crawl up my spine, so I whip around and see an empty hallway and the ivory-paneled door to the demonstration room cracked open. The room is dark as usual.

I know we’re safe here, so why do I sense we’re not alone?

Fuck it.I roll my eyes. This old house is haunted, I know.

So I grin, silently inviting the ghosts to join my initiation, too.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

NASH

I should’ve known seeingVale like this would be my undoing … in the best way.