Page 88 of The King of Hearts

I open my mouth to ask another question, but Susie holds up her hand. “No. No more questions. I understand your curiosity, and you have every right to be, but I don’t feel comfortable giving you this information behind Mr. West’s back. If you’d like to know something, I suggest asking him.”

“Fair enough.” I incline my head.

I’m dying to know more about the West family, particularly because I’m about to become part of it, but I won’t push Susie. The last thing I want to do is make her feel uncomfortable or get her in trouble. We’re going to be living together for the foreseeable future, and I’d prefer not to have tension between us.

Susie goes back to cleaning the kitchen while I sit and contemplate what I’ve learned so far. I’m curious to know what pushed Vivian to be admitted into the hospital a second time. It could simply be an extremely depressive state after what happened to her husband and her that night, but something tells me it’s more. I also wonder why Ryker would think his father is still alive after the authorities claimed there was too much bloodfor him to have survived. I get the feeling it’s more than a hunch. There’s a specific reason behind his beliefs.

I did extensive research on the history of the Ellington mansion a few years ago and came across only one article about the family who lived here. The husband and wife’s names were Antonio and Vivian Romano. The little boy’s name was Matteo. There was an older boy, Aiden, but he died years prior. No matter how much I dug, I couldn’t find more on the oldest Romano son. My parents didn’t move to the island until a year after the incident. When I asked around town, no one seemed to know anything either, only what was in the news article. I even asked some of the older folks on the island who would have been around when everything happened twenty years ago. Either it’s a closely kept secret or the Romano family were extremely private and kept what happened out of the media and the general public ear. I personally think it’s the latter.

All of it is such a mystery, but I’m determined to get answers. Ryker seems to know everything there is to know about me and my family. It’s only fair that I know about him and his.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

HER

Later that night, my mind is still reeling over what I learned today. So much information has left me with so many questions. I’m curious by nature, so not having those answers makes me twitchy.

I’m sitting at the desk in Ryker’s bedroom—I refuse to call it our room—slathering lotion on my legs when the door is suddenly thrust open and the man of the house walks through it. My body goes rigid the moment I see him, and I straighten up from my bent-over position. I haven’t seen him since this morning.

He goes straight to the bed and scoops up my cat, holding him against his chest. He scratches his chin as he carries him to the bedroom door and gently deposits him in the hallway before closing it. It’s irritating that he seems to have a bond with my cat, especially because I know it stems from him sneaking into my room all of those nights while I was knocked out from drugs.

He turns to face me. I know the look in his eyes—potent desire and possessive need—and my treacherous body immediately reacts to it. A shiver sluices down my spine, hitting every nerve ending along the way. I press my legs together when that feeling hits my core.

It should be criminal how easily this man affects me.

“Where’s your dagger?” he asks in a voice filled with a dark undertone.

It takes me a moment to reply. “In the nightstand.”

He strides to it, pulls out the drawer, and grabs the jeweled dagger. He flips it in his hand a couple of times, his eyes locked on me. I get up from my seat, fear mingling with the desire riding my system. He looks really fucking dangerous right now holding my dagger with that intent look in his eyes, and my gut instinct is demanding I run.

My legs tense, ready to spring into action. I’m closer to the door than he is, so I might have a chance of making it before he gets to me.

“You’ve got two choices, Vicious,” he says, freezing me in place. “You run, and I chase. Then I fuck you until your pussy is torn to shreds.” He tosses the dagger onto the end of the bed. “Or we can do it the pleasant way, where you’re a good girl and do what you’re told. Either way, my cock will end up deep inside your pussy.”

I don’t give myself time to think about it. I don’t even take a full breath before I’m sprinting toward the door. Fuck this guy and his ultimatums. My third option is to get as far away from him as possible.

But I don’t. I don’t get near the door before my hair is grabbed from behind, and I’m yanked to a stop. I let out a scream of frustration, and I reach back for his hands. My nails dig into his skin so deeply, I expect to feel the flesh break. My wrists are caught between one of his large hands and he bringsthem down so they’re pressed against my lower back. His free hand latches a band around my throat, and I’m forcefully pulled back against his chest. His hot breath meets my ear. This whole scenario reminds me of the first time he showed up in my room all that time ago.

“I was hoping you’d choose the harder route,” he whispers darkly.

He spins us so we’re facing the bed and marches me forward. He lets me go long enough to yank my silk robe down my arms, stopping it when it reaches my wrists. The material is pulled tight, and he does something so my wrists are tied together. Once that’s done, he puts a hand between my shoulder blades and shoves me forward. I lay there with my body bent over the bed, my ass sticking out in front of him.

“Damn, baby. Your ass is a work of fucking art,” he groans, running his hands over both cheeks.

I wiggle in my bindings. “Let me go.”

“You chose this, Vicious. Now you reap what you sow.”

He parts my cheeks, and I feel something slide across my asshole. My back goes ramrod straight.

“Don’t. Please.”

“This little hole is going to strangle my cock. It’ll be so tight I’ll have to force my way inside. It’s going to hurt, and you’ll cry your pretty little tears, but I won’t stop.”

“Oh, God,” I whimper, and I don’t know if it’s because of the excitement his words illicit or the fear of pain I know will come when he takes that part of my body.

Without warning, he jams one of his fingers inside me, and I let out a cry. That fucking hurt.

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