Page 81 of Princess of Vengeance

I slip the phone into my pocket, grateful for how tiny and unobtrusive it is. “Thank you.” This time the words come easier.

As I leave their house, I feel a strange mixture of emotions. There’s the normal fear and dread at returning to Malcolm. Then there’s the always-present longing for my men. But also something I haven’t felt in a long time—the simple comfort of knowing someone has my back, no strings attached.

28

QUINN

I slide backinto the SUV waiting outside Willow’s place, and Malcolm’s driver gives me a questioning look in the rearview mirror. He’s clearly expecting me to tell him to take me back to my gilded cage, but I have other plans today.

“I want to go see Imogen Brooks,” I say, locking onto his gaze in the mirror and silently challenging him to question me.

His brow furrows, just like I knew it would. “Mrs. Mercer, I don’t think?—”

“I want to see my cat,” I cut him off. “And it’s still at her place.”

He hesitates, fingers hovering over the steering wheel. “I should probably check with Mr. Mercer first.”

Time to play my part as Malcolm’s new wife.

“You really think my husband wants to be bothered for permission every time I want to see my pet? I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that Malcolm is a busy man.” I lean forward slightly without breaking eye contact. “And I’m also pretty sure he’d be annoyed to learn that such a simple request from his wife was denied for no reason.”

The driver shifts uncomfortably in his seat. I can almost see him weighing his options. Does he risk Malcolm’s wrath fordenying his new wife something trivial? Or risk it for letting me go somewhere without explicit permission?

“Besides,” I add casually, “Imogen is an associate of Malcolm’s. She’ll brief him on my visit just as thoroughly as you will.”

“But Mrs. Mercer, my instructions were clear?—”

“Your instructions were to drive me where I need to go and keep me safe,” I counter. “I’m telling you where I need to go. Unless you think Imogen Brooks represents some kind of threat to me?”

He holds my gaze for another second, then quickly looks away. “No, ma’am.”

“Good. Then I don’t see the problem.”

That seems to be the deciding factor. With a reluctant nod, we pull away from the curb. “Yes, Mrs. Mercer.”

The title makes my stomach clench, but I lean back against the leather seat, satisfied. Every small victory counts in this war I’m waging.

As we drive through town, I stare out the window and mentally rehearse what I’m going to say to Imogen. I need allies, and she’s my best shot right now. The other Syndicate members respect her, and more importantly, she’s already shown hints that she’s not Malcolm’s biggest fan.

It’s a risk, but calculated risks are all I have right now.

Imogen doesn’t even try to hide her annoyance when she opens her door and finds me standing there.

“Back for another visit so soon?” She purses her lips and looks me up and down. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mrs. Mercer?”

The name sounds even worse coming from her lips, but I force a smile. “I was hoping to see Princess again.”

She rolls her eyes, but steps aside to let me in. “Of course you were.”

“Is this a bad time?” I ask, stepping past her into the apartment.

“No. Just unexpected. I didn’t realize you were such an enthusiastic cat person.”

“I didn’t realize it myself until recently,” I admit, scanning the room. “Where is she?”

Imogen points toward the sun room. “Same place she always is this time of day. Sunning herself like… well, like a pampered princess.”

The cat is curled up on a plush cushion by the window in the next room, her tail flicking lazily in the afternoon sun. She lifts her head when I approach, and to my surprise, gets up to rub against my legs with a soft purr.

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