Page 124 of Punish Me, Daddy

I didn’t answer. Just stared at him.

“You’re wondering why,” he said casually. “Why now. Why you. Why this.”

He crouched down in front of me, eyes level with mine, and far too close. His cologne hit me like acid—synthetic and sharp, covering something rotten beneath.

“It’s because you were careless.”

I glared at him. “Go to hell.”

He chuckled softly. “You’re not in a position to give orders, sweetheart. That’s what got you here in the first place.”

He stood again, brushed invisible lint off his jacket.

“I know about the sting your Russian saviors are setting up,” he said. “The shell company. The money trail. The fake drop. All of it. Clever. Sloppy, but still sort of clever.”

I went still.

“And imagine my surprise,” he continued, circling behind me now, voice softer, more poisonous, “when I found out the mayor’s darling daughter—Nikolai Morozov’s future wife—was helping engineer it, especially considering she also screwed some of my very close friends out of a whole lot of money.”

I said nothing.

I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

He came to a stop just behind my chair.

“I haven’t decided what to do with you yet,” he said. “I could make you disappear. Say it was an overdose. Tragic, but not surprising for a party girl like you. The press would eat it up.”

He stepped in front of me again.

“Or I could keep you. Send pieces of you back to him one at a time. Let him feel what it’s like to lose something he never deserved in the first place.”

My heart pounded so hard I thought it might bruise my ribs.

He crouched again, this time close enough that I could see the veins in his eyes, the sweat beading at his hairline.

“But that’s messy,” he said. “So maybe I ransom you. Use you as leverage. Remind your father that he’s not untouchable. Remind Nikolai what happens when you fuck with people who know how to make power last.”

I spat at his feet. It landed short, but he got the message.

He stood slowly, eyes hard.

“Brave,” he said. “But brave won’t save you. Neither will he.”

He turned toward the door.

“You’ll stay here until I make up my mind. But don’t worry.”

He looked back once, over his shoulder, his gaze roving up and down my body and I shuddered at the blatant insinuation in his dark orbs.

“I’ve always liked watching little girls squirm.”

He smiled, his expression predatory, and I tilted my chin up, not showing him even ounce of fear even as my blood ran ice cold.

I knew without a doubt that given the chance, he would hold me down and use me just like he had done to all those underage girls, and that terrified me as much as it enraged me.

The door slammed shut behind him, and I was alone again.

Thank God.

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