Page 26 of To Curse A Knight

“Aaron, I”—she closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath, her flushed cheeks flooding to crimson—“I...love you, too,mi caballero oscuro.”

Her dark knight. I would cherish the endearment for the remainder of my short life.

She sobbed through her orgasm and clung to me as we bore the relief of our confessions. Grinding my hips for one last stroke, I released into her, the sweetest satisfaction of her words and her body unleashing a potent euphoria from deep within my soul.

Mi Reina. My Queen.My love.

Eenie, meanie, minie, mo.

I quietly roamed Hillary’s apartment being the good little captive I was, taking my time to browse through her things.

I wasn’t even trying to be discreet about it.

It was what she’d be expecting of me, and I wanted nothing more than to deliver on her expectations. I picked up a polished trinket that looked like it came from India—from a visit to the countryside, not a sweatshop—and placed it back down on the bookshelf, wiggling my fingers in a wave at the security camera watching me from the corner.

This place must be cleaned by house-elves—I’d never seen a cleaner come in and yet, it was damned spotless every morning. Tomorrow, I was gonna leave crushed Cocoa Pebbles on the quartz countertop to bait them—see how many little Irish sprites she’d convinced to work for her.

She was pretty convincing, my Blondie.

In my search, I’d come up with nothing—well, I’d come up with lots of things, expensive bits and bobbles and a tasty little pair of black lace panties with the arsehole cut out of them. I’d held those up to the camera before stuffing them into my pocket—but nothing I had been actually hoping to find.

The hidden door in her closet was an interesting revelation, though. Wouldn’t put it past her to house her own little torture chamber for wayward souls—or a kink dungeon to work out some of that tasty dominatrix energy.

One and the same, really.

Maybe if I was really bad, she’d drag me within its walls before dragging me through her walls.

I palmed the chub forming in my trousers and gave it a light squeeze. Between the barbarian and my Blondie, I was a horny teenager desperate for his next taste of a hot hole.

I couldn’t say this was the ideal set of circumstances, but I’d be lying if I said I was sad about it. Ma’s place had been getting old, and I’d needed to get closer to Hillary to fulfill my mission. Despite the wee tracker in my arm, this really was a goldmine of opportunity.

Ma had been thrilled to hear I’d been ‘invited to stay’ at the best billionaire lodge in town. Her nagging about my slow pace on this had been getting to me—she’d even suggested she get in on the con, to make sure I “fulfilled the assignment”—as if I was some amateur. Thankfully, my forced roomie status and new assignment as “baddie lackey” had pleased her enough to let me be, even if I knew the reprieve was temporary.

Itstruck me I didn’t know why Hillary was so fixated on Alvarez. What had the man ever done to her? He was a world-class git, and I knew the dark secrets he’d kept under his bonnet. But did she? Who’d hurt her?

Hillary kept her cards so close to her chest. I’d be more likely to get a blow job from a nun than have her tell me, but it didn’t really matter. We were all in the same bed, and I was happy to sleep in it if I got what I wanted.

My cards on the table? Their resources could take Alvarez down, and I cared more about his end than I did my own. And if I could work my way under my new Killers Club’s skins a bit more, they wouldn’t harm a hair on my head.

Probably.

Sure, I was a bit mental, but things often had a way of working out for me. Why question the goddess now?

I was getting closer to my goal, anyway. I was practically tethered to my billionaire buddy—her doing, not mine—and I was eliminating all areas where it wasn’t; all part of the pickpocket process.

Giving up on my quest, I flopped down on my favorite chaise in her living room and slid an arm over my head to take a quick nap before I had to go into the Devil's lair.

The git who’d hired me needed me on “special assignment,” and I was getting the details this afternoon. I was good at keeping up appearances, but the double life on all fronts these days was getting old.

Not like anyone truly knew what I did for a living. It was a lonely life, being a master “acquisition agent”—not even my best mate back home had a clue what I did outside of my “tech” hours—and sometimes a man just wanted to go home and vent to his family about the hard day he’d had trying to scam people out of their millions.

I snorted into the elbow covering my face. Might as well be smoking ayahuasca with that pipe dream.

When the elevator dinged, I turned my body expectantly toward the entrance foyer off the left of the kitchen.

My expectations for Blondie were only disappointed for a fraction of a second when I saw Conan come through the alcove, his head ducking on the other side of the trim.

Unimpressed navy eyes stared back at me. “Find what you were looking for?”

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