Page 22 of Heart of a Devil

“Fine. Good. Okay. I mean, I’ve carried on dating. Not all men are kidnapping assholes, and I’ve had a lot of fun. I was married, briefly, before Florida, and the sex with him was so boring I thought my clit had given up and atrophied. After wedivorced, I got my mojo back. I started to really enjoy it again, and I couldn’t let those redneck assholes steal that from me. That said, I’ve always preferred sex a certain way. Energetic, loud, and usually with me in charge. Until… Well, until I started enjoying something else, which is kind of freaking me out.”

“What kind of thing are we talking here?”

“Um… I suppose stuff that involves being controlled. Tied up. Restrained. Dark shit. Stuff I should hate, that I should be traumatized by, that I should never in a million years enjoy.”

Sam laughs, shaking her head at me. “There is no ‘should’ when it comes to sex. The body and the mind are complicated beasts. This might be too much information, but I also enjoy those things with Gabe. At first, I couldn’t understand it, and it set all kinds of red flags off in my feminist brain, but then I made a deal with myself—if feminism is about equality, then why shouldn’t I have as many orgasms as a man, any damn way I want to have them? When I was with my ex-husband, it was abuse. With Gabriel, it’s… Well, it’s bloody mind blowing, to be honest. The things that man does to me…” She fans her flushed face. “Anyway, enough of that. The point is, yes, maybe right now with you, it’s a way of reclaiming. Of processing.”

“Maybe. Maybe I can fuck all the pain away.”

“If you’re both consenting adults, why not? Like I said, it’s complicated. If you ever need me, I’m here to talk, and I also have the name of a good therapist. For the time being though, you seem to be having a great time. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the bruises or that bite mark on your shoulder. Now that I know you got them the good old-fashioned way, through delicious rough sex, it’s time to tell me all. Who knew cello players had it in them?”

I freeze, my cheeks blazing and my hand going self-consciously to my marked shoulder. Should I lie? Tell her cello players are indeed wild in the sack?

I obviously pause too long, and a look of horror settles on her pretty face. “Oh god, no,” she mutters. “Please tell me I’m wrong. Please tell me you haven’t been talking about my dad all this time. I think I might be sick.”

Part of me wants to laugh at her reaction, although I totally understand it. “Sorry, Sam. What can I say? Your dad’s hot.”

“No, he’s not. He’s my dad. And he’s so much older than you. Can’t we pretend it was someone else? Like, I don’t know, Daniel Craig, maybe?”

“I think Daniel Craig is actually older than your dad.”

She looks frustrated. “That doesn’t matter—at least he’s not my father. Look, I’m being silly, and I know I am. I’m under no illusions about my dad being a saint, and if you two really like each other, then go for it. Just be careful, okay? I love him to bits, but the man collects women like they’re butterflies. I don’t want you to get hurt. Plus, yuck, double yuck, and triple yuck to the images you’ve put in my head.” She shudders. “Come on, let’s go back to mine. I need to drink all the alcohol in the entire world right now. I might have to bathe my eyeballs in vodka.”

I smile, partly at her reaction and the image she just conjured in my mind’s eye, but mostly because it’s because I’m thinking about her dad—and how much I’d like call him Daddy.

Chapter

Twelve

SEBASTIAN

I’m not in an especially good mood today, and the update about the McIverson takeover isn’t helping. “What the fuck do you mean,he needs more time? Does he need more time as much as he needs a working brain stem, the dickhead? I’m sick of their shit. I’m starting to think this deal isn’t worth it. Let’s fuck them off and leave them to whatever fate has in store. I’ll dance on their fucking graves.”

Gabriel gives me that look that says, “chill out you arsehole.” He might be younger than me, but he’s the calm one, and that look usually works. I trust his judgment, and if Gabriel thinks I’m losing the plot, then I probably am. Today, though? Today I’m in the mood for a fight, and I don’t really care where I find it. It’s been days since I dropped Lauren off after our night at Vincenzo’s, and she’s been radio silent. Maybe I was being arrogant, but I was convinced I’d hear from her. Convinced that she’d be back for more. The fact that she’s ghosting me is driving me crazy, and I have a strong urge to punch someone in the face.

“What are you looking at?” I snap at Taylor, the new lad. He’s a big, blond brute lurking at the back of the room, watching me so intensely I’m starting to feel like an exhibit at a freak show.

He jumps to attention and does a double take. “Umm… Nothing, Boss. Just, you know, learning?”

“Learning? What is this, fucking uni? Go and make yourself useful, kid. And make me some coffee.” He actually gives me a salute before he leaves and looks thrilled at the chance to do something for me. Bloody hell, when did I start running a kindergarten?

“There’s no point blowing the whole deal just because they’ve pissed you off, Seb,” Gabriel says, leaning on my desk with his arms crossed. “Alex and Jacob reckon they’re stalling in case they can find a better offer. We both know they can’t, and they’ll come crawling back to us in a week or so.”

I slam my fist down, still furious—with the McIversons, with Gabriel, with Lauren. Mainly with myself for giving so much of a shit. “That’s not the point though, is it? This business is full of sharks. If we look weak, we are weak, and some wannabe fuck knuckle will come sniffing at the blood in the water. Is it that little weasel Jimmy again?”

“Probably, Boss,” says Alex, looking to Jacob for confirmation.

“Is it or isn’t it, lads? And how about you give me some facts rather than eye-fucking each other?” Both men bristle, and dammit, I’m pushing their buttons on purpose.

Gabriel shakes his head wearily. “What crawled up your arse this morning? Sort your shit out, will you, because this isn’t helping anybody.”

Gabriel is my best mate, my son-in-law, and the father of my precious baby grandson. Right now, though, his still looks like a face I want to punch. I stand up, knocking over my chair behind me, and the tension in the room ratchets up. I’m considering who to swing at first when Taylor hustles back into the room, carrying a tray of drinks. I’m so wound up, I want to slap thedamn thing in his face. He stares at me again, in that borderline creepy way of his. “There’s someone here to see you, Boss.”

“Well, tell them to fuck off, son—can’t you see we’re busy?”

“Yeah, I can, but she said you’d want to see her. She was pretty insistent.”

“She? Did you ask her what her name was?” Taylor nods and says he did, looking proud as punch about it. “And? What was it?”

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