Page 94 of Shades of Ruin

“Your pastry whore?” Aurélie circles around, dragging her nails over my body until she’s standing in front of me. She reaches down and grabs my jaw, digging her fingers into the hollows of my cheeks. “Is that all youfuckingcare about?” she hisses, her French accent stronger as her anger takes over.

“Yes,” I gasp. I brace myself for the worst news. Given the things I’ve done in my life, I probably deserve to have every shred of happiness ripped away the moment I finally have it in my grasp. But I still cling to hope because it’s all I have left.

Aurélie steps closer, the smallest hint of a frown creasing between her brows when she looks down to see she’s dipped the tip of her red stiletto into a puddle of my vomit.

“Oh, Grey, you’ve gotten my Louboutins dirty,” she sighs. “And you know how I feel about my shoe collection.” She bends low and brings her lips to my ear. “Lick it clean, and I’ll tell you what happened to your sweet, Colombianpute.”

I gape at her, not sure if I can physically obey the sickening command without hurling all over again.

“I’d be quick if I were you,” Aurélie adds, lifting her leg and slamming her stiletto down on my thigh. “She doesn’t have long.”

Every instinct in my body dims apart from the one ensuring that Angélica makes it out of this alive. No matter the cost. I don’t even flinch as I lean down and run my tongue over thelength of Aurélie’s shoe, lapping away every trace of my own acidic bodily fluids. I lick until I taste nothing but clean, smooth leather, then I sit back on my heels and wait.

“You’re surprisingly obedient when someone has your balls in a vice,” she remarks, a note of irritation in her voice. “I’m almost disappointed at how easy this is.” She drags her stiletto from my thigh and walks away, the sharp tap of her designer heels against the marble floor a familiar sound that I’d long forgotten.

When she returns, she flings something heavy and metal across my thighs. “Put those on. Make sure they’re tight.”

A pair of police-grade handcuffs is sitting in my lap. Aurélie wants me powerless. She’s making mechooseto submit to her. Given the stakes, it’s an easy choice. I pick up the cuffs and slap one around my wrist, tightening it until it stops clicking and there’s no give between the harsh pinch of metal and my skin.

“Tighter,” Aurélie demands with a sadistic smile.

I squeeze my hand around the cuff, locking it until the metal cuts into my skin. When she appears satisfied, I attach the other cuff. The rings of metal are so tight around my wrists that I feel the blood in my hands start to slow. A small flicker of alarm flashes through my head—if left like this for too long, my fingers will be at risk of necrosis. Every minute, I’m putting my culinary career at risk.

I let the concern drift away along with every emotion in my body. If my girl isn’t safe, nothing after tonight matters anyway.

“Where is she?” I ask again, the words feeling heavy on my tongue.

“She’s waiting for us at the table,” Aurélie responds in a tone too calm to be comforting. “Can’t have dinner without dessert.”

Gory flashes of the bloody hearts in my kitchen turn my stomach all over again. Resisting the urge to spew, I try to rise to my feet. A searing slice of a knife to my shoulder forces me tokeel over, pain lancing my entire arm. The fucking bitch stabbed me.

“Fuck,” I gasp while trying to drag myself up, unable to support my full weight with my hands cuffed in front of me. The sharp point of a stiletto slams into my spine and presses hard, forcing my face against the floor.

“I didn’t give you permission to stand,” she hisses, digging her heel harder into my back before moving to my shoulder and stabbing the razor-sharp point of her stiletto into what feels like a goddamn hole in my arm. I have to grit my teeth to keep from groaning with the pain.

“You’ve become such a weak, lovesick bitch, I think it’s only fair that you crawl to the dining room.” She pushes down with all her weight against my shoulder, and I taste blood in my mouth from biting down so hard on my tongue to keep from screaming. “Crawl,” she orders with a harsh stomp of her foot.

“I can’t,” I grit through clenched teeth as I try to jerk away from her. “My fucking wrists are cuffed.”

“You’re a smart boy, Grey.” The pointed toe of her heel slams into my ribs and sends my stomach roiling. “You’ll figure it out if you ever want to see your pretty little chef alive.”

Shutting down the rage singing in my blood, I pull up onto my elbows and drag myself across the floor in the direction of the dining room. Aurélie walks behind me, the incessant click of her heels driving a white-hot blade through my sanity with every step. Wetness seeps into my shirt on my left side and leaves a trail of red on the floor as I crawl down the hall. When I reach the dining room, a pair of white Chucks splattered in blood is the first sign of Angélica.

“Angel,” I gasp, scrambling to get to my feet.

Another burning lance of pain to the back of my thigh knocks the breath from my lungs. Aurélie twists the blade, scraping at every layer of tissue, sinew, and muscle before rippingthe knife from my body. My legs feel warm and wet like I’ve pissed myself, but I know that isn’t what’s running down my thighs right now. Chances are high that the damn bitch nicked something important this time.

There’s a muffled cry from the other side of the long, obsidian table.Angélica. She’s alive and well enough to sound furious, and that’s motivation to make me forget the pain and fight to stand again. Another stab of the knife pierces my right leg, and I collapse against the floor.

“Let her the fuck go, you goddamn blonde psycho!” I growl, slamming down my fist.

Sharped nails dig into my hair and jerk my head up. I stare into a pair of periwinkle blue eyes that glimmer with unhinged delight. “You’re not in a position to be making demands, Grey.” She yanks harder on my hair, pulling my head up so high that the tendons in my neck are stretched taut. “You’re only in a position to lay back and take what I fucking give you.”

“I’m going tofucking killyou. If you hurt her, if you leave one goddamn scratch on her, I’m going to make you suffer more than you can even imagine. I’ve kept my knives sharpened for a decade, and one of them has your fucking name on it.”

“Oh Grey,” she sighs like she pities me. “Your threats are meaningless. You know why?”

She uses her hold on my hair to drag me the rest of the way to the table. With a strength that I wouldn’t expect from her slight build, she yanks me into a chair at the head of the large table. Her fingers grab my jaw and force me to see what lies at the end of the table. Not that I could ever look away.

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