Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“You’re so impatient,” he says with a laugh. “I knew you would be, baby, so I won’t make you wait.” He takes three cards from his pocket and places them in front of me. They’re room keys: 405, 407, and 409. “Pick one. Go upstairs. Whatever you find in that room is the game for tonight. You’ll obey the rules, or you will be punished.”
I lick my lips and blink rapidly. I finish my drink to help steady me. “What will I find?”
“That’s part of the game. Choose a room.”
I look up at him, at his cold gray-blue eyes, and back down again. This man hates my family. He would’ve killed me two year ago without hesitation. And now he’s getting on his knees, pleading with me to give him another chance, and creating elaborate sexually charged games for us to play. He’s wearing a mask in public, all for me.
It’s sick, but the fact that I should be his mortal enemy, and yet he wants me anyway, only makes this even more enticing.
I reach out and grab key 407.
He pulls away the other two. “Good choice.”
“What’s in there?”
“Go upstairs and find out. Remember, baby, the safe word is albatross. But I’m warning you, when you see me next, I’m not going to be gentle.”
Be still my fucking heart. “Promise?”
“I promise, baby. Now, get up and walk away. I’ll give you a head start.”
I could scream. I could absolutely scream. But slowly, I push my chair back and get to my feet. “How much of a head start?”
“Two minutes. Now, run, little demon. Before I take you right here in front of all these people and fuck you into a messy little puddle like the filthy fucking girl you are.”
Chapter 26
Laura
Rooms 405, 407, and 409 are all in a row. I’m so curious about what I’m missing in the other two, but I made my choice. The door unlocks and my heart’s pounding so hard in my throat that I’m afraid I might pass out.
It’s a nice room. Nothing special, but clean and simple, with modern decorations. I walk down a short hall, past a sparkling bathroom, and stop when the bed comes into sight.
Attached to the headboard is a chain. It’s long and silvery, and glitters in the light. At the far end is a black collar studded with diamonds.
Oh, fucking shit.
The game is pretty obvious. There’s a bed, there’s a chain, and there’s a collar. Nothing else. I walk around and find a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and a note on a table at the far side near the window. The note says, Undress and put it on or I will put it on for you. Jackal.
I pop the champagne, pour myself a glass, down it, pour another, down it, and strip.
This is stupid. Jackal is dangerous. He hates my family, and I hate him too. He worked for a man who tried his hardest to murder everyone I care about. He’s taking care of that man’s daughter. Marco is everything I hate.
Except somehow, that makes this even better.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I whisper as I get up onto the bed. I leave my panties on, mostly because I’m too nervous to take them off. The leather collar is cool to the touch, and I’m pretty sure the diamonds are real. The chain is long enough that I could move to the far end of the bed, but no longer.
Slowly, with shaking fingers, I wrap it around my neck. It takes a few tries before I manage to fasten it, but when I’m done, I’m down on all fours, wearing a freaking dog collar, and attached to the headboard of this bed.
I’m also nearly naked and my skin is damp with nervous sweat.
Jackal makes me wait.
The bastard. It’s definitely longer than two minutes. I’m trembling with nerves and barely controlling myself, and each passing second is total agony. I’m heightened beyond belief by the time the door unlocks and opens. An irrational fear rages through me—what if this is the wrong room, what if that’s not Jackal, what if he’s going to strangle me with this damn chain—but all my thoughts disappear when he comes into view.
My Jackal. He stands just inside the room and stares at me through the slits in his mask. He’s wearing tight slacks and a black dress shirt, and I salivate at his muscular forearms and his built chest, and all I want is for him to touch me and kiss me the way he did last time.
“You look perfect,” he says, circling into the room. I’m kneeling with my hands on my thighs, trying to be as obedient as I can. “But you fucked up.”
“I’m sorry?” I blink in surprise.
“The note. What did it say?”
“You wanted me to—” Ah, crap. I look down at myself. “It’s just my panties. I can—”