Page 35 of Ruthless Redemption

“Denver.” I hold his dark gaze. “I’m going to finish what I started.”

“You won’t go anywhere near there without me.”

“Then when do we leave?”

The muscles in his jaw tic. His eyes narrow. He’s trying to think of something to placate me. To tide me over so he can continue playing these stupid games.

“When?” I demand.

He slides his chair back a few inches and leisurely crosses his arms over his chest, a picture of sophisticated relaxation. “Things have changed. We need a new strategy.”

“I’m all ears.” I finish the last of my bacon, then place the cutlery on my plate. “Tell me what I need to do to speed this up.”

“Be patient.”

“That’s not possible in my current captivity.”

“I’m yet to determine if it’s best to approach Lorenzo or if we should do this under the radar.”

“And I no longer care about the repercussions to your life if you break your uncle’s rules.” It’s a lie. Idocare. Ihatehow much. “You promised you would help me. Or was that just another betrayal?”

His nostrils flare. “Fine. We’ll discuss this tonight over dinner. For now, purchase the things you need because it’s going to take more than a few days to work on a plan that doesn’t get us killed.”

He’s stalling, and he’ll continue to do so for as long as I allow it.

“Tonight,” I confirm, pushing to my feet to grab the laptop. “No excuses.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.”

My smile is brittle, the edges of my lips tight with malice as I start for the hall.

“Stay where I can see you,amore mio.”

I pause. A cry of potent irritation builds in my throat.

“Take a seat on the sofa.” His chair scrapes behind me. “I’m sick of being kept from that pretty face of yours.”

He doesn’t trust me not to create havoc while on his laptop. I don’t blame him. If I had the know-how, I’d get on the dark web and arrange to have him killed. Maimed at the very least.

I divert my path to the other side of the room and sink onto the leather three-seater.

I start my shopping spree on the bare necessities, just in case I’m unfortunate enough to still be stuck here in a few days. I order underwear and casual clothes while Matthew clears the table and stacks the dishwasher.

I’m on my third website by the time he walks onto the deck to make a call. He talks loud enough for me to hear, approving stock purchases and chatting shop with whom I assume are his staff.

Whenever I glance over my shoulder, it doesn’t take long for his eyes to meet mine. His subtle smirk always follows.

I want to slap the arrogance off his face. Instead, I divert my internet browsing into more conniving territory. I splurge on a pair of Gucci sneakers. I one-click designer clothes, red-bottom shoes, and expensive makeup.

Every time our gazes clash, I add another over-priced luxury to my cart.

I’m well aware I won’t get the opportunity to wear the four hundred-dollar Guerlain limited edition satin-red lipstick he just bought me. My body won’t be adorned in the thousand-dollar La Perla black silk camisole with macramé frastaglio. And the La Prairie White Caviar Creme will never kiss my skin. But every purchase coats my tongue with the sweet taste of revenge.

I luxuriate in the shopping spree, drinking coffee with my legs stretched along the sofa while Matthew prowls the deck like a panther.

By brunch, I’ve spent five figures.

By midday, I’m inching closer to ten.

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