Chapter 8 #2
She shouldn’t respond to me this way either, and yet her hands fly to my shoulders in order to clutch me closer. I shiver at the phantom pain of her nails digging into my muscles through my thick jacket. Those hitched breaths and little moans guttering deep in that pretty throat nearly kill me.
With one hand, I trace the slope of her waist to cup her breast, which is the perfect size and weight as I squeeze.
Her palms glide across my chest, exploring my muscles with a firm touch. They travel lower, brushing my abs before she palms my ass and grinds up against me.
I reach for the snap on her jeans, my mind foggy with desire, until I register the soft caress. When I do, I grab the wandering fingers grasping for the grip of my gun and guide them toward the bedside table built into the wall. Quick as lightning, I release her hand and cuff her leg to the table.
I break away from her mesmerizing mouth and rear back, not even attempting to hide my evil grin. “Nice try, sweetheart.”
The shock on her face slices straight through her sexual persona. She yanks at the cuff and hisses at me like an angry kitten. Her flushed cheeks only enhance her cuteness.
I climb off the bed with real disappointment roaring through me.
Why couldn’t that be a genuine attempt for some carnal relief? If she weren’t hell-bent on escaping, we could pass the time in a mutually enjoyable way before moving on.
“Fuck you.” Malice drips from her words, and her poisonous tone evaporates the remaining fantasies in my mind.
“Sorry your little stunt didn’t work. I just wanted to see how far you were willing to go.” I slide the key to the cuffs into my pocket while savoring the lingering sensation of her mouth all over mine. A smirk tugs at my lips. “Turns out almost to my esophagus.”
With every pissed-off breath, Trinity’s pink cheeks darken to red and her shoulders rise and fall faster. If her eyes doubled as deadly weapons, I’d be ten feet under by now. “You bastard.”
The knot in my stomach tightens. Again with that particular slur. If I weren’t riding high from my win, I might punish her. Lucky for her, my good mood holds.
“Look here, Miss Graduate.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Despite whatever you might be thinking, this isn’t my first day on the job, so why don’t you just save your psychology tricks for the next dumbass who’s forced to put up with you?”
She jerks her chin to the right and drops her gaze. Her entire body’s practically radiating with rage.
“You get an A for effort, though.” I don’t even try to keep the smugness out of my tone. “I can tell how hard you worked for that degree. Really put your back into it, didn’t you?”
Like a popped ballon, she deflates, tears glittering on her lashes.
My jaw clenches before I glance away. Underneath the massive letdown my cock’s experiencing, I almost regret making her cry. She’s probably a nice girl, despite being a New Yorker.
“I’m not going to gag you again. But if you scream for help, innocent people will get hurt. I promise you that.”
As I retreat, I feel her glare burn my back. I pause at the door, tempted to walk straight through and close it behind me, but I can’t.
Not yet.
She tried to manipulate me by acting like she wanted me. And that pisses me off.
Murder isn’t personal. But using what you know about someone to mix them up inside, trying to influence their emotions to bend them to your will? That’s some truly insidious shit.
If Trinity’s ballsy enough to attempt to outsmart me, I wish her luck. Fair and square, though. No games. No suggestiveness or seduction. Just a battle of wits.
My knuckles blanch on the doorframe before I swing back to face her. “Can’t say I’m not disappointed.”
She glowers at me with sharp eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Thought you were different but turns out you’re just like all the other mafia princesses. You think because you’re beautiful and born into power, the world owes you and you can treat anyone in your way however the fuck you want.”
Bitterness sours my stomach as the condemnation flows out.
I bust my ass every day. I risk my life. I work exhaustively for so little. Doesn’t matter if I do a perfect job every time or that I’m better than Connor at every damn thing. None of that makes me worthy in Declan’s eyes.
For mafia men, that’s the deal.
You do as you’re told, and if you’re lucky, you might gleam some pleasure and enjoyment out of life on your own time.
But not the women, many of whom live like spoiled, pampered pets. A voice in my head warns me that I’m just tired and frustrated and not thinking clearly, but I keep on ranting.
“You get everything you want. No questions asked. Even my sister’s the same a lot of the time.
She gets what she wants.” Even as I spew the words, I realize they’re not fair.
Declan never treated Maeve as Connor’s equal, and he only used his stake in the hotel as leverage over her and as a place to conduct his shady business deals.
Still, I can’t seem to stop the toxic sludge of resentment and pain from building in my chest. “Then Kellin Brennan just waltzes in and takes over the whole damn—”
“You want to trade places?” Trinity cuts me off with sharp desperation.
“Be my guest. At least you’re not tied up in a hotel room with some murdering asshole who’s looking down on you.
At least you’re not throwing yourself at a criminal who would gladly rape you, just so you can survive.
At least you have a future. Somewhere you belong. What do I have?”
Though tears drip down her cheeks, her voice remains steady as she stabs me with brutal honesty.
“A half-brother I barely know anything about. A dead father who shipped me off to boarding school and then college on the other end of the country. He even went ahead and got murdered, just to make extra sure we’d never really get to know each other.
How’s that for commitment?” A strangled laugh morphs into a sob.
“I’ve never been a mafia princess, Brody.
I’m either a mafia prisoner or a mafia prisoner. Or have you forgotten why I’m here?”