Page 245 of Before Dawn

As for me, seeing her heal was enough to lift my own spirits. Nothing made me happier than knowing I’d given Joshua exactly what he deserved, and watching the aftermath made it all the more satisfying.

Kamadge let me know that Joshua wasn’t dead—but even better, he was fingerless. Eight fingers, gone. Snapped and severed, one by one. Watching him crumble, reduced to a quivering mess, brought a twisted satisfaction I never knew I was capable of. It was brutal, undeniably drastic, but necessary. And without a doubt, the best two hundred grand I ever spent.

Joshua was handled. Gone from our lives in every way that mattered. And with that weight lifted, I could finally focus on what truly mattered: Abigail and the future we were building.

The launch of my acquisition was fast approaching, and Abigail and I spent the entire week at Celestine Grande Hotel, nestled in the heart of SoHo. We needed a break, and it just so happened that this was where the launch party would be held.

Our suite offered breathtaking views of The Haughwout Building, our mornings began with leisurely breakfasts on our private terrace, overlooking the iconic skyline as the city awakened below, and our nights ended with slow, sensual, passionate fucking.

Life was amazing.

I stood in the ballroom, watching my team ensure every detail was perfect. I didn’t have to be here—interior designers had been paid handsomely for this—but everything in my company required my hands-on approach. Nothing was left to chance.

Breaking out of my thoughts, I grabbed my phone and quickly sent a message to Abigail.

Me:Hey. Still at the masseuse?

Red:I just finished.

Red:Going to get a mojito at the bar.

Me:Good. Be up by 7 pm, amor.

Red:I’m intrigued.

Me:You should be.

She was used to my secretiveness by now and by the way the three dots lingered in the chat, I could tell her mind was racing with what I had up my sleeve.

Abigail-Ann

“You should be,” replayed in my mind and I wondered, what the fuck he was up to.

I set my empty glass down, fingers brushing through my curls as I caught my reflection in the mirror.

Leaving the bar, I headed to our room, anticipation building with each step.

At the doorway, I took in the scene—the soft glow of bedside lamps, their light diffused through delicate, draped fabric.

Mikkel Suarez always outdid himself.

It took me a moment to realize soft music was playing courtesy of a speaker sitting on a desk in the far corner. Just as I was starting to wonder where the hell he was, my eyes were drawn to the paper folded and placed neatly in the middle of the bedspread.

Take the handcuffs from the bedside drawer and secure your wrists to the headboard. I’ll be there soon to enjoy you fully.

No puedo esperar a jugar con ese húmedo coño tuyo.

-Tu amante

A playful smile danced on my lips as I imagined the scene he described. Grabbing my phone to translate what those words meant, the breath I caught almost stopped in my throat.

I can’t wait to play with that wet pussy of yours.

I placed the note down and opened the bedside drawer, my breath catching as two sets of yellow padded handcuffs slid forward. The short chains gleamed in the dim light, a small key resting beside them. I picked up a pair, surprised by their weight.

Reaching for the bottle of sparkling champagne, I let the cool glass settle against my palm, the meaning behind the note finally sinking in. I would be bound to the bed, completely exposed.

A slow heat spread through me as I kicked off my boots, undressing with deliberate movements. Standing by the bed, fully nude, I hesitated—goosebumps prickling my skin—before finally cuffing my left wrist and securing the other end to the headboard.

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