Page 108 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

“Don’t get cocky, boy. You’re still on my shit list and will stay there until I decide otherwise.” Well, at least there’s that. Dad hating him will work well once I divorce him and expose his deeds. “Honey, I love you, and I’m not mad. But you have to come home, okay? Humor the old man.”

“You’re forty-two, Dad.” Since he stays silent, I know he expects the promise I detest to give because it’s one more lie thrown his way, but I have no choice. “Okay. As soon as we can, Dad.”

Which to me means never. No way will I bring a monster to my family home and sanctuary. He’ll pollute it in darkness before destroying it.

“All right. And Remi?”

“Yes?”

“If you get my daughter pregnant and I find out about it from the media, you are a dead man. I might be an artist, but I do have a gun.” With this, my father hangs up on us, leaving me stunned.

My father never threatened anyone in his life, and now look what Remi has turned him into.

Covering my face, I huff in frustration. “I hope you’re happy.” I glare at Remi. “Do you have some kind of mission?”

“Mission?”

“Are you set on destroying my life? My father is not a part of your game.”

“Game?” His voice drops a few octaves, sending chills down my spine and alerting me to the hunter this man is.

And I’m just a little naïve mouse who stumbled into a trap due to her illusions.

I wiggle a finger between us. “Whatever you’re trying to achieve, don’t drag my father into it. Once you get bored with this marriage, I don’t want to hurt him.” I exhale a heavy breath. “And he will be. Because he’ll think his daughter is brokenhearted. So please stay away from him. In fact, don’t talk to him at all.”

I spin on my heel, ready to lock myself in my room until further notice or rather the mysterious event he plans to take me to that requires some designer dress.

If he expected me to be some heiress who is a social butterfly, he’ll be very disappointed. While I mingle in the art world and can’t be called a recluse, I prefer quiet places, and I’m super awkward with new people.

A smile curves my lips, thinking about this. In my current situation, I have to find joy in the smallest thing.

I don’t go far, though, as he grips my elbow, spins me around, and pins me to the nearest wall, his hand wrapped around my throat hard enough for me to feel the pressure but not cut off my air.

He rests an arm above my head, holding my stare while my chest rises and falls in anticipation of his move, ready to fight our attraction this time around. “My darling, it seems this mouth of yours can’t help but beg for trouble.” He squeezes my neck, making my breath hitch. “Taunting me to stake my claim on you again. Is that easier to bear, then?” He leans closer, our mouths inches apart. “When I take what’s mine and make you forget about your reservations?”

He glides his open hand down my collarbone to my breast, then palms it gently before pinching my nipple. The scorching heat slides through my veins and awakens the lust burning deep inside me. A whimper escapes me as I try to push him away, but he is a brick wall.

“If you weren't so stubborn, I’d have you for breakfast.” His hand shifts lower, fisting my dress over my stomach and causing goose bumps to pop on my skin. A little tremor travels from the top of my head to my toes. “Would you like that, Penelope? My tongue fucking you so sweetly you can't see straight?”

The hot palm glides lower, lower until it settles right over my flesh, and his fingers slide farther, cupping me through the dress. I moan, tiny sensations enveloping me.

“I bet this pussy is dripping and longing for me to get down on my knees.” He puts his lips on mine, our breaths mingling as his middle finger moves up and down, probing my opening and then grazing over my clit, driving me more insane with each slide. He swallows my moan and then bites my lower lip, his teeth sinking in until they draw blood. The sting mixes with pleasure, shaking me as he licks over the abused flesh. “Too bad this pretty mouth needs a lesson,” he murmurs, and then his other hand fists my hair, my groan echoing between us, as he tilts my head back.

He bites my neck, sucking my skin, while my nails dig into his chest. My mind tries to force me to push him away and break out of the passionate haze he always manages to create, while my body and heart urge me to indulge in the temptation.

He presses his palm against my clit while his fingers continue to dive deeper and deeper, my panties becoming sodden while the maddening need consumes me, wiping all rational thoughts away.

“Should I make you come first, chérie?” he asks, dragging his mouth to my shoulder and nipping my skin. “Or do you want me to punish you?” An added thrill zips through me, shaking my entire system at the raspily whispered words that paint sensual pictures in my head, calling my name. “Get on your knees, wife. You’re about to service your man.”

Everything feminine in me lights up at the command, desire filling my mind, but before I can react to it, the familiar ding of the elevator echoes through the space, serving as cold water to the ring of fire around us.

Remi lets me go, then pushes me behind him as a man steps inside, whistling loudly while covering his eyes. “Alert! A horseman in the house!” He peeks through his fingers and cocks his head to the side. “Is your wife decent, Remi? I’d like not to be dead shortly.” My husband growls, and his friend laughs, finally gazing straight ahead. “Well, I’m sorry to interrupt your marital bliss.” I quickly adjust my dress, smoothing my skirt, and step to the side as Florian waves a golden envelope in his hand. “The invitations wait for no one, though.”

“I’ve already gotten one,” Remi snaps, and his friend sighs dramatically while walking to the bar and grabbing a bottle of water, winking at me.

My face must be red from embarrassment. Once again, my body has betrayed me, but also Florian now knows, despite their past, I find one of them irresistible.

“You got married, my friend. Which means your invitation became invalid, and this one—” He extends the envelope to Remi, who practically rips it away from him while Florian flicks open the bottle, taking a few sips before continuing. “—includes your wife.” He flicks his emerald-green eyes at me. “My grandfather personally invited you to his eighty-fifth birthday. Be there at eight o’clock sharp, or he’s going to whoop your ass.” He grins at Remi. “His exact words.”

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