Page 57 of Viktor's Temptation
Viktor’s eyebrows shot up at that explanation and he looked over at Gracie. “You don’t look dead, my love.”
Gracie crossed her arms over her chest, her posture calm but defiant. “I don’t feel dead,” she said with a bright, almost serene smile directed at Viktor. Then, keeping hercheerful expression in place, she turned to Warren. The stunned look on his face was priceless, and she reveled in the moment.
“Gracie!” he yelped, twisting on the bed to gape at her. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
“You searched for me?” she asked in a sugary-sweet voice. “How thoughtful!” Her smile vanished as her features hardened into a mask of fury. “Especially since you shoved me out of my own house, you pathetic bastard!”
Warren chuckled nervously, his eyes darting between Gracie and Viktor. “Yeah, uh, I’m really sorry about that.”
“Oh, you’re sorry?” Gracie snapped, taking a step closer. “Sorry that you kicked me out of my house into the arms of a psychopath? Sorry that you trashed everything I worked so hard to create? You’re a pig, Warren.”
“What the hell, Gracie?” Warren’s voice rose, defensive. “I thought you were dead! They told me you were dead!”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “So, you were in contact with the men who kidnapped me?” she asked, her voice icy and measured, though her fury bubbled beneath the surface.
“What?” he stammered, panic flickering across his face. “No! Of course not!”
“Then how did you find out I was dead?”
“They told me you’d died!” he repeated, his voice desperate.
“So you were in contact with them,” she said slowly, her tone sharpening with each word. She inhaled deeply, calmingherself enough to maintain control. “Maybe you’d like to meet them again, Warren. Perhaps enjoy the same experiment you so kindly handed me over to?”
The blood drained from Warren’s face. He turned an even paler shade as his frantic eyes darted to Viktor, silently pleading for help, the back to his former girlfriend. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Gracie! Whatever they did to you, I had nothing to do with it!”
“And yet,” she said, stepping closer, “you knew they were going to hurt me.”
She stopped right in front of him. Warren didn’t move, his back pressed against the headboard as if frozen in place. Gracie tilted her head slightly, studying him with a mix of pity and disdain.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten the fact that you hit me,” she whispered, her voice soft but laden with menace. “That was a very bad thing, Warren.”
“I didn’t hit you!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “You fell down the stairs!” He stole another glance at Viktor, who stood silent but watchful, then turned his attention back to Gracie.
Her lips curled in a humorless smile. “You’re a disgusting excuse for a human being. And you’ve sullied my bed sheets.” With that, she grabbed his ankle, her grip vice-like when he tried to pull away.
“Gracie! What are you doing?” he shouted, his voice rising in pitch as panic set in.
“I’m getting you out of my house,” she replied, calm as ever.
“You can’t do this!” he screamed, but Gracie wasn’t listening. With a sharp tug, she yanked him off the bed. His butt hit the hardwood floor with a satisfying thud.
Gracie briefly eyed the empty space where she’d envisioned a gorgeous floral area rug. That purchase was definitely moving up on her to-do list.
Still holding Warren by the ankle, she dragged him out of the bedroom and toward the stairs.
“Gracie! Stop! You can’t just drag me out like this!” he hollered, but she ignored him.
Each bump of his body against the stairs sent a little thrill of justice through her. His shouts and pleas only fueled her determination as she hauled him out the front door and down the sidewalk.
By the time she reached the street, Warren’s arms and legs were scraped, and he was thoroughly humiliated. She dropped his ankle with a satisfied smile and turned back toward the house.
Warren scrambled to his feet, shouting after her. “You can’t do this! I have rights!”
Gracie smirked, glancing at her neighbors, who had come outside to watch the spectacle. With a subtle flick of her gaze, she sent a message to each of them:Call the police. There’s a nearly naked, crazy man screaming in the street.
One by one, phones appeared in hands, and hushed conversations with 911 operators began.
Smiling sweetly, Gracie stepped back into her house and shut the door. The mess inside greeted her like a slap in the face. She was still trying to process where to even begin when the back door opened.
