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Vicious Revenge (Vicious City #4)
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My naughty Kitty wants to turn her claws on me – but she should know better than to play the master at his own game.
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“Is it too late to say I’m sorry?”
“Far too late, Kitty.”
Those unique green eyes sear into me with a mixture of lust, pity, and desire for pure revenge. I know I deserve this. I know it’s been coming for a long time. I’ve caused him more trouble than any other woman, maybe any other person in his entire life. He still loves me. That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to hurt me.
“These clothes are coming off.” He says it as a matter of fact. I have no choice in this. I forfeited my right to choose when I made him my enemy. A tremor of fear runs through me, but I know better than to resist. If I want to make amends, if I want to escape this prison I’ve found myself in, I have to show him three things: submission, obedience, and contrition. None of those things come naturally to me.
He undresses me slowly, peeling the fabric from my skin. My clothes are the last vestiges of armor against him, and I feel the final shreds of my resistance going with them. He is wearing an impeccable suit. My nudity is a shame I will bear alone.
I want to fall into his arms and beg forgiveness, but I can’t. There can’t be forgiveness yet. Not after everything I’ve done.
“Turn around. Let me see you.”
I turn slowly, feeling his eyes devour me. It has been so long since we were last intimate, our separation caused by mutual arrogance and my ill-fated madness. Vicious looks at me and I feel myself swallowed in his gaze. I am falling into him and he’s not even touching me.
“I am sorry.”
“I know,” he says softly, leaning back into the armless chair which is so ornate it looks almost like a throne. “Come here.”
He reaches for me and I take his hand. I want to feel him against me. The brief touch of his palm is pleasure enough for all that will come once I am over his thighs.
This all started because he told me he was going to lie to me. This time, he tells me the truth.
“This is going to hurt.”
“This is a bad idea,” Blaze declares.
She’s right, of course. But I have my own to get back on a certain English criminal mastermind, and I have to be bold about it. When it comes to messing with Vicious, I know I’m walking a dangerous line. He doesn’t need much in the way of encouragement to commit some seriously twisted acts, but nobody makes me think I’m going to be given a back-alley lobotomy and gets away with it.
It has been a month or so since the chaos of my Russian abduction, and I am ready to follow through on the threat I made when I discovered the more twisted aspects of the way Vicious recruited me. He has been lying to me from the beginning, and he’s not sorry about it. Not at all.
“You can’t tell Slick.”
“Sure, let me keep a secret from my CIA agent husband. That’s totally doable,” Blaze rolls her eyes at me. She’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, her pink socked feet sticking out under black jeans.
“You’ve changed since you got married,” I sigh. “Where’s the girl who used to throw herself between balconies hundreds of feet in the air just to hang out with me?”
“She got married to a man who is even more twisted than yours.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Oh yeah, it is.”
I casually swing the vase I picked up before we started this conversation.
“Okay, so. You’re going to tell Vicious that you came in, the window was broken, and I was gone.”
Blaze waves her hands in a ‘stop’ motion. “Wait. This plan involves ME lying to his face?”
“Well, yeah. To start off with.”
She’s out? Blaze is never out.
“Okay what the fuck has marriage done to you?”
“Nothing,” she says.
“Oh, it has done something.”
“Maybe it’s stopped me being completely stupid?”
“This isn’t stupid. You came in through the balcony to try to tell me Vicious was lying to me. That’s like three hundred feet up in the air. Now you won’t even tell him one little white lie?”
Blaze tosses her hair and sighs. “Things change, Kitty. People change.”
“No, they don’t.” When did I become the cynical one?
“They do when they marry CIA agents who use canes.”
I take a deep breath. She is married now and Slick is hyper protective. I understand why. In all the craziness which has ensued since I met Vicious, it’s Blaze who has been the worst hurt. Slick doesn’t want to see that happen again, and neither do I.
“Fine,” I relent. “I’ll take care of this on my own.”
I swing my arm back, and then whip it forward and send the vase crashing through a floor to ceiling window which looks out over the balcony. There’s no real need for this part of the plan. I just want there to be some drama to the occasion. I want him to walk in and find the glass shattered, just like the trust I had in him.