Two
Rubin
Free.
She betrayed me for nothing.
Did that make it better or worse?
Did it matter?
I stared down at her plain face and unremarkable brown eyes, unable to look away.
There had to be something there that would make me understand.
She stared back at me, the same Simone I had thought I knew so well.
Intelligent, meticulous, quiet. Practically invisible.
I’d thought that made her perfect, but it was exactly that that had put me here.
I clenched my fist. No, it wasn’t Simone who had put me here.
I had done this to myself.
It was my own blindness, my own weakness that allowed this meaningless woman to betray me.
It was my fault, and my time here was payment for that crime.
Now, Simone would pay for hers.
In truth, she should have already paid. The day the witness list leaked should have been her last. Damian had told me he’d do it himself.
I’d stayed his hand. I hadn’t believed it true that Simone—quiet, nothing Simone—would walk into open court and betray me.
But she had and that same round face, soft voice, and kind eyes had laid out my misdeeds in exacting detail, every calmly uttered word adding to my sentence.
Once the shock wore off, I’d been so enraged I’d wanted to kill her right there. Had even contemplated allowing Damian to do it.
But no. When Simone died, it would be at my hands. On my word. In my time.
You die when I say.
I had turned the vow over in my head countless times, the lodestone I’d held through eighteen months of confinement. I would watch the life drain from her sweet brown eyes as she took her last breath.
But not until I knew why.
Anticipation for that moment was the reason I woke up every morning.
Was the reason my dick was rock hard right now.
I didn’t try to hide my hatred, nor did I try to hide my reaction. Got close enough that there was no way she didn’t feel the hard press of cock against her soft stomach.
She didn’t react. She just kept her eyes somewhere behind my shoulder, kept her breath even, her shoulders poised.
Ready to perform once again.
This was why I kept Simone alive.
I needed to understand.
I would understand.
She flinched when I squeezed her jaw harder, but recovered quickly, and again met my eye. She arched a brow. “You think I’m lying?”
There was a challenge in her voice, a uniquely Simone challenge. But I didn’t see it in her body. Her body was relaxed, her eyes demure, yielding. Designed to fool me like she had for years.
I’d spent those same years forcing myself to look past her.
Simone’s usefulness didn’t lie between her thick thighs, no matter how intriguing the treasure that lay there might be.
No matter how many nights I’d wrapped my fist around my cock in the dark and pretended it was her mouth, her pussy yielding to me, pretending that the cold weightlessness of my pillow was instead her heavy warmth.
I’d even accepted how pathetic it was for my control to be so tested by her.
Soft, forgettable. Nothing. But I’d never given in and never let my weakness win.
I’d denied myself that pleasure and now, her only value was in the failure she reflected back at me.
My grip tightened even more and Simone stiffened under my hand, though she fought to keep the terror out of her eyes.
She had betrayed me.
Betrayed me.
I squeezed harder as I remembered her on the stand. Not much different than she was now, save for the clothes. She’d dressed the part for her performance, the discount store suit with a polyester-cotton blend pressed to perfection. Unremarkable in every way, just like she’d been every other day.
Except that day, she used that unremarkableness to put me in this prison for life.
I dropped my hand and clenched my fist, fighting to get my anger in check. Simone wouldn’t see me lose control, no matter how much she deserved it. Letting her live this long was weakness enough. Losing control was a shame I would not abide. And my vengeance wouldn’t be a rash outburst.
I would savor it.
I studied her again as she blinked. Her brown eyes were nondescript, average just like the rest of her features.
Easy to overlook, just like I had before.
I cataloged each millimeter of her face, again trying to understand.
And I never stopped at her face. Hadn’t been able to.
I’d never touched, but for years I’d looked.
The heavy tits the cheap blouses tried and failed to flatten and hide.
The thick thighs I imagined under my palms, crushing my head to hold me in place as I tongue fucked her, gripping my waist as I drove into her.
The wide, soft ass I’d caught myself sizing to my hands more nights than I’d acknowledge even to myself.
I’d cataloged every unremarkable inch of her the way I cataloged every threat.
And still, I hadn’t seen her.
“No, Simone, I didn’t think you a liar. Not before,” I finally said.
She flinched at that but recovered, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly before she forced her features back into her usual placid expression. “I didn’t lie, Rubin. Everything I said on that stand was the truth. We both know that.”
She said it like it made a difference, but it only proved my failure and again sealed her fate. I had let her in, trusted her with things that no outsider should be trusted with. Now I was paying the price.
I would see that she did, too.
I moved quick, my hand locking around her throat before she could blink. She inhaled softly, the sound a mix of shock and fear.
My emotions were on the same roller coaster.
I’d dreamed of this.
The moment when Simone would face her reckoning, when I would get the vengeance I deserved. My cock jerked at the anticipation of her end.
But I didn’t squeeze.
Just held her there, the soft warmth of her skin an insult against my palm, the faint scent of cocoa butter and Simone tickling my nostrils. She bought it in bulk for the discount. It pissed me off that I knew that about her.
Just like I knew that she clipped fucking coupons. Knew that she always ordered water at restaurants. Knew she hummed under her breath when she thought she was alone. I knew each of these useless, stupid things about her and hated every scrap even as I filed it away.
Knew that this timid, cautious, safe fucking woman had played me.
My grip tightened and I reveled in the feeling of her tremble as I stared at her.
She saw my excitement at her fear, and I didn’t have to wait long for her response.
I watched her pull herself together, moving from terror and whatever other emotion she felt to absolutely nothing.
She put up that mousy facade and pretended she wasn’t here, that my hand wasn’t around her throat.
That her life wasn’t mine if I chose to take it.
It was disrespectful enough that she thought going cold would protect her, but that wasn’t the worst of it.
No the worst was she didn’t beg.
She just watched me, not defiant, not beseeching, just there, waiting, telling me without telling me that the power was in my hands.
And again threatening to undo me.
Because I wanted to destroy her.
I wanted to fuck her.
I wanted…
Not so strange to want, but that want made my failure that much more acute. That was what she did to me.
I stared at her for a long moment, watching, waiting for some reaction. Got none.
I loosened my grip ever so slightly and saw a moment’s relief, but a brief moment, one that ended when I grabbed her with both hands this time, held her soft cheeks against my palms, felt the breath leave her chest, saw her struggle to inhale, watched the reality that her life was in my hands assert itself yet again.
Watched her calculate what she could do about it.
Saw the moment she realized: nothing.
I leaned closer, so close that my lips grazed her ear. She trembled, and I tightened my grip ever so slightly. Then tightened it more.
Held her as I weighed my choices, the gallop of her pulse under my hand promising me vengeance, instant and final.
I let her go, and she let out a dainty cough, her eyes wide for a split second before she recovered and then looked at me like nothing had happened at all.
That vengeance, as delicious as it would be, would cost me the explanation Simone owed me, just like she owed me her life.
I would have both, but first…
“Simone, duck.”