The Sins that Ruin (Obsidian Knights Secret Society #3)

7. Malone

SEVEN

Feeling like some kind of fairy-tale ogre, I send pretty, fuckable, intriguing Scarlett on her way with a driver, a guy I use for surveillance.

This is a simple job for Joe.

Keep an eye on her for the next two days and report in on her routine—one I already know—to see if there are deviations.

And of course, there are, right out of the gate. She goes to the family townhouse in Sugar Hill and then to see her cousin at her uncle’s place. I think I might keep them like that, the family moving freely.

Under my watch.

Until it’s time to shift them all to the same place.

Now isn’t that time.

The next day, we’re back to Scarlett’s typical routine. She goes to work at that wellness center, the type of business that to me, seems out of place in New York and more at home in LA.

But apart from that?

The reports are mundane, just what I expect.

And I set the wheels in motion.

Give her the time to consider what I’ve asked of her. I’m playing a risky game and I know it. But what the fuck’s life without risk? And risk brings rewards. This time apart will heighten everything for her.

Right now, I can almost guarantee she’s at that idiotic job thinking about me, waiting for my call. She’s fantasizing over what’s going to happen between us in private. How much flesh I’m going to demand. How much she’s going to give. What kind of a woman it makes her to crave so much more after that first taste.

I know she’s struggling with that last one. And that she, of her own volition, got down on her knees and called me fucking Sir.

And I curated that whole situation just for her.

One thing I never expected was just how delicious she was. How she stroked a part of my dark soul, jacked off my libido in such a fucking perfect way.

I don’t think about that, though.

And I don’t think about how tight her sweet cunt was with that one plunge of my cock. Because it felt like a fucking line of poetry, about all we have of heaven and all we need of hell.

Something tells me she’s going to be my version of heaven and hell.

From a kiss that was completely out of character for JM, to one fucking thrust of my cock into her pussy, to owning her tight ass, yeah… more sex with her is going to be heaven.

And hell when I have to leave her behind.

But it’ll be a hell I’m willing to live with.

A hell that’s going to be worth it.

I drop my eyes to my watch. She’ll be at my place—JM’s—in three hours.

Things are gonna get interesting real fast.

“Malone?”

I glance over at Jones at the bar in the depths of the Obsidian Knights’ headquarters, the lowest level where there aren’t sex slaves who are there for pleasure and money. Sex shows, women, or even men if that’s your thing, are reserved for the higher floors where the secret, private playrooms are situated. And then there’s O Ring, where the most exclusive and elite play.

“I’m in.” I lean against the bar. “We’re all good.”

“In. You mean with the girl? Scarlett?”

“Look, I know what I’m doing,” I say, not liking the faint tones of disapproval and wariness in his voice. I play with my Laphroaig single malt, avoiding his hard stare.

It’s probably a thirty-year. I’m not sure. But it’s what I need right now.

I’m more of a Japanese whiskey fan, but JM isn’t. And when I drink single malt, this is my preference. Not the most expensive, but the best.

“Unless, of course, you think you could do the job better.” My words are soft, laced with a challenge, and he doesn’t miss them.

“That,” says Jones, “isn’t what I’m saying.”

In one corner, Orion and Mercer sit huddled at a table, talking about something in hushed tones. Obviously, something personal and not work-related.

At the other end of the bar, the Black Widow and Smith are in deep conversation. I don’t miss the pointed looks he throws me every few minutes, and I know that even though he’s focused on her, his mind is half on my job.

I’m good at reading people, and a quick look around at the others tells me they’re just here for drinks and probably the shows upstairs.

Jones is full of shit.

And I know I should play it carefully, or just by the fucking rules, but really, I don’t give a flying fuck about rules.

“So you don’t think you can do this better? You think I know what I’m doing?”

“I’m not your fucking boss.”

My lips lift into a smirk. “So there isn’t a hierarchy?”

“Watch your tongue, because I’d hate to have to cut it out.” Jones picks up his drink, then turns so his back is to the bar and he’s looking at everyone else. But his attention is completely on me. “I only give a damn about the list.”

“Why?” I ask.

“UR Fantasies wants details so they can take out their competition.”

“Not what I asked, and half the time what clients say they want isn’t the full truth. And I don’t give a damn either way.” I want this done so I can kill that motherfucker Hanlon. The job is a means to an end. “The daughter’s my key. You know it. But you still haven’t told me what you’re really after. No bullshit, Jones.”

He shifts against the bar, his eyes scouting the rest of the space. “The list and the information it might unlock.”

Might means will. And to be honest, it isn’t my business. I’m only responsible for completing the job. But I cast him a look. He doesn’t usually poke into my process. Actually, he never does that. So whatever isn’t my business is big. Or at least has the potential to be.

The Obsidian Knights do a lot of different things, and we manipulate and control much of the darker parts of the world. Sometimes it takes bad to take out evil. Like the worst kind of trafficking.

That’s when it hits me.

UR Fantasies traffics, but in a morally gray area. The girls they bring here know what they’re getting into. When it comes to bringing down people in the dark arena of the sex trade, UR Fantasies are the “better” guys. But there’s someone on their books, or on the hidden client list, who has nothing to do with UR Fantasies. And everything to do with something much, much darker. Something the higher-ups of the Knights want.

A network, maybe? Does it even fucking matter to me?

Apart, of course, from idle curiosity.

“So,” I say, “I do the job and get you the client list and the past-dated schedules.”

This isn’t the first job that the Knights have interfered with. We keep records, yes. But shit like this, me having to get things beyond what the client is paying for, that changes the game.

“Just do the job and don’t mess it up.”

“If you’re concerned my methods might put the fucking job in danger…” I deliberately trail off with an eyebrow raised.

His eyes narrow at me, then shift away. “No. I’m just letting you know that you’d better not fuck it up by letting your personal mission get in the way.”

“Motherfucker…” That’s the problem with people on my level. We see things.

There’s a small, humorless smile on Jones’s face. “I know you, West. When you do undercover jobs, it’s a swindle, blackmail, big scores. Not something like this. So you’ve got a personal mission. Use Smith’s talents. Use all of us if you need to. Just don’t fuck things up by letting what you’re really after get in the way.”

“I’m a cold fucking son of a bitch,” I mutter, finishing my drink and straightening up. “I don’t let emotions get in the way.”

“I didn’t say a word about emotions.”

I slam my glass on the bar and walk away without a look back.

Scarlett Hanlon’s right on time.

I take my time to answer the door, and when I do pull it open, she stares at me with utter dislike, a dark heat of desire in the depths of her golden eyes. We’re on the threshold, the walk from the private elevator that opens into the foyer a conceit I can see she’s judging me on.

“Welcome,” I say, stepping back and motioning for her to move inside. “To your new home.”

The air crackles and shifts. But she doesn’t move. “Temporary home.”

It’s a waiting game, futile because we both know how it’s going to end, me winning with her stepping over my threshold.

But she’s got steel in her veins because she lets the moment stretch. We’re not in touching distance, not unless I step forward, but she still eats up the space in the foyer where she stands a few steps away from the door.

Finally, she looks past me and takes a few cautious steps forward.

“Temporary,” she says again, as if she’s trying to convince herself of that.

“What do you think?” I ask.

“I think you’re a rich man.”

She means a fucking vulgar monster who has cash. But we both know money talks.

And this place…

The SoHo penthouse is built on top of a historic building, and the interior is a modern air of linen and leather in beiges and creams… the current trend of every luxury interior design lookbook.

There’s an entire wall of glass that opens to a huge outdoor area, one the real estate dick said was a way of bringing the outside indoors, and vice versa.

The dollar signs flashing in his eyes like flickering light bulbs when I bought it six months ago, staged with furniture and all, was almost laugh worthy.

And as she takes it all in, I can feel her disdain thick in the air.

To be fair, I don’t blame Scarlett.

This is the epitome of someone trying to buy respectability.

It’s an ugly flash of money done up in muted shades and tones.

It can be whatever I want it to be, and right now, it’s perfect for JM.

“Oh, I am, and very, very powerful. Remember that.”

She sucks in a breath and turns. “You—” She stops suddenly. Scarlett thinks about her next words, I can see from the expression on her face that she’s formulating her complex thoughts. “You have me here, and I’m painfully aware of the situation. You don’t need to threaten me.”

I ease the bag from her fingers. “I’ll give you a tour.”

There’s a weird air of waiting, one I could feed on because it’s full of the things I crave. Want, resentment, and a tangle of emotions in between. She doesn’t know if she should be subservient in the way she thinks I want, like when she got on her knees and called me Sir. Or if she should give in to her true nature and let her natural defiance fly. And then there’s the most delicious of all.

Uncertainty.

It bends into anticipation, which curls back into uncertainty, and it builds until…

Well… I don’t know what’ll happen at that point, and that’s perfect.

Just like the Sir thing. She thinks I wanted her on the floor being my slave, and it’s true. I do want that. But I want it with what I saw there. The bite of hate, the need to be punished, the thrill of humiliation. Her resentment of the fact she did it herself, got down on her knees for me when I never asked her to. That time.

I want the version of brat that she is. I want to help find that pain and humiliation whore in her. The thing that made her suck my cock when she could have easily laid out rules.

She’s smart enough.

She could have tried to wear me down, offered me all the fake relationship shit I claimed I want.

But I had her caught, and I still do, and she bit because a part of her wanted that. It’s why she came to me in the first place. It’s why she went to that club, then to the bar afterward.

Deep down, where it counts, she didn’t want to.

The subconscious always gives a person away. Always.

“Malone—”

“Bedroom,” I say, throwing her bag onto the king-size bed. “You’ll find a walk-in closet. With two racks of clothes. One for every day and…”

She smooths her hands down the front of her jeans. It’s not lost on me that she armored up by wearing jeans and then put on a thin T-shirt, which clearly shows me the bra that lies underneath.

Chaos. Tangled wants. Maybe a slight attempt at playing me.

“And what? Whips and chains?”

I laugh softly and close the gap between us. She hits the frame of the door, her head rising, the pulse in her throat beating hard and fast. Pink stains her cheeks as she looks up at me, lips soft, slightly parted, eyes that right size of dilation, just a little bigger than normal. The telltale signs of desire someone can’t ever hide.

“Would you like those?”

“No,” she says, breath thready.

I lean in, lips skimming her gardenia-scented skin, the heat and life of her beneath my mouth. “Too bad, but you’ll come around.” I lick her and she moans. So soft, it’s almost like air. “The other side’s for play…”

Right then and there I have a plan to up the ante in this game. She thinks she’s going to play the role of my pretend girlfriend. Sweet, innocent Scarlett.

Because she won’t just be my fake girlfriend.

I need to up the stakes of this game. And I want more from Scarlett, to really sell this whole sham to the world and to give me credibility in her world.

I lift my head, and then I kiss her softly. Playing her lips with mine. And against them I say, “Get dressed. We’re going out.”

“Malone…”

I grin against her lips. “First night out as my fiancée.”

And then I plunder her mouth with mine.