Page 5 of House of Cards

“I thought it could be more of a down payment?—”

“I’ll take this too.”

My skin prickles with icy panic when he draws the muzzle of the gun down my throat.

Nothing’s changed in his eyes. But his voice is deeper, throatier. And instead of forcing the metal hard against my skin, he keeps a light, teasing pressure. My nipples tighten, because apparently they don’t know what the fuck’s going on, and that suggestive touch is getting them all excited.

But my gut knows what’s up, because it flops over like a fucking pancake.

Then he stops.

Dizzying relief twists into horror when he taps the gun against my pearl necklace.

Mom had little in the way of jewelry because she poured every last dime into the Slice of Heaven, but she wore this necklace to every shift.

My step-father, Franco, gave it to her before he vanished from our lives forever. I’d often see her touching it, like she was thinking of him.

Wearing it feels like keeping up some unspoken tradition. And I toy with it sometimes, just like she did, but it’s Mom I think about…not him.

Definitelynot him.

I wrap my fingers around the pearls. “No. Please. It was my mother’s,” I whisper, tears building in my eyes at the thought of handing it over.

He tilts his head, dragging the gun down my stomach. “You tryna negotiate?”

I try to back up when the muzzle skates over my jeans and brushes against my pubic bone. But this office is tiny, and he already has me cornered.

He chuckles, tilting his head the other way. “I’m leaving with a pearl necklace. This one—“ He taps the gun against my jewelry again. “Or this one.” He drops his eyes to his crotch, and then back to my cleavage, using the muzzle of the gun to describe a line just under my necklace.

My mouth goes dry.

Oh, God.

My fingers shake as I hurriedly unclasp the necklace. It’s just an object. A random assortment of metal and pearls. It’s not worth the alternative?—

—is what I keep telling the tears I’m struggling to blink back.

Zoey Dennen doesn’t cry in front of people.

Not now, not ever.

Buzzcut examines the pearls for a moment, and then shoves them into the pocket of his jeans like a handful of change he got at the gas station.

The injustice of it all slams into me like a freight train.

FuckingRicky.

“This isn’t fair!” I bite out, my hands bunching into fists.

“Nothing’s fair,chica. Like how I have to leave, but I really,reallywanna stay.” He gives me a lingering once-over that makes me wrap my arms around my chest. “But I got other appointments to keep.”

I watch him retreat with something approaching relief, but I know I won’t be getting a wink of sleep tonight.

He pauses by the office door. “Get me my money, and don’t forget the golden rule.”

“There’s a golden ruleof blackmail?” I snap, incredulous.

“No cops.”

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