Page 103 of Princess of Vengeance

So I do it. I press my lips to his, hating myself, hating him, hating the whole fucked-up situation.

He groans against my mouth, and his hands tighten on my waist as his tongue forces its way past my lips. One hand slides up to my towel, tugging it loose. It falls to the floor around my feet, leaving me completely naked and way too fucking vulnerable.

There’s no stopping him as he lifts me onto the counter and pushes between my thighs.

“I’ve been patient,” he growls, kissing a trail down to my neck. “So fucking patient. But you’re mine now.”

This is going too far. It was one thing for him to kiss me. I’m mostly used to that, as repulsive as it is. But it’s obvious he wants more now, and it isn’t going to end well. Not with him acting this insistent and with me this naked.

A wave of panic hits me, and I can’t suppress it this time. I can’t do this. I won’t. Not with him. Not ever.

My hand scrabbles behind me on the counter, searching for anything I can use as a weapon. A hairbrush, scissors, anything. My fingers close around a heavy glass jar of bath salts.

I know what will happen if I fight back. Malcolm has guards all over the house. Even if I take him out, I’ll never make it out alive. But in this moment, I don’t care. I’d rather die than let him touch me like this.

Just as I raise my arm to bring the jar crashing down on his skull, a shrill ringing cuts through the tension.

Malcolm freezes, cursing under his breath. He pulls back slightly, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “What?” he barks into it.

I sit there, half-raised on the counter, still gripping the jar behind my back, my heart thundering so loudly I’m sure he can hear it.

His face darkens as he listens to whoever is on the other end. “Now? Fine. I’ll be there.” He hangs up and looks at me, his eyes raking over my naked body with obvious frustration.

“Get dressed.” He reaches down to pick up my towel, then tosses it back at me. “We have a meeting.”

An hour later, we’re sitting in the meeting room beneath Noctura. Malcolm sits at the head of the table, as always. I’m to his right, with Elliot beside me. Across from us are Cassandra, Rafael, and Owen, with Imogen at the opposite end—as far from Malcolm as she can get.

I’m doing my best to keep my expression neutral, even as my heart races. Everyone in this room except Malcolm is plotting his death. It’s surreal, sitting here pretending that everything is normal when we’re all just waiting for the moment to strike.

“I called this meeting because I have a request,” Elliot announces. “I’d like to use my votum.”

Malcolm inclines his head. “Go on.”

“Ronan Kane is coming through Detroit next week,” Elliot says. “He’s looking to expand his operations, and I want to be his local partner.”

I keep my face blank, but my mind is racing as Elliot fills us in with some of the details about Ronan. He’s the head of a powerful New York crime family—ruthless, intelligent, and notoriously selective about who he does business with.

“Kane?” Owen scoffs. “Good luck. I’ve always heard the man is a ghost. He sure as hell doesn’t meet with just anyone.”

“That’s why I need your help,” Elliot counters. “I want the Syndicate’s backing for my proposal.”

Cassandra nods. “I can offer access to my shipping channels. I’m sure Mr. Kane would find the value in that.”

“My distribution network would complement your offer nicely,” Rafael adds. “Guaranteed customers in six states.”

Owen shrugs. “I can sweeten the pot with some exclusive merchandise. Items that haven’t hit the market yet.”

I watch this dance with fascination—the way they’re all playing their parts perfectly. Anyone watching would never guess this is all an elaborate setup.

“All useful,” Elliot nods. “But Kane is a careful man. He needs reassurance that any partnership is solid.” He turns to Malcolm. “You’ve had dealings with him before, haven’t you?”

Malcolm’s eyes narrow slightly. “Once or twice. Years ago.”

“Would you be willing to meet with him again?” Elliot asks. “Vouch for me and our organization?”

Malcolm considers this, drumming his fingers on the table. “Kane doesn’t like too many eyes and ears around. He meets one-on-one.”

“Exactly,” Elliot presses. “Your word carries weight. If you can convince him to take a meeting with me…”

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