Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Katarina
Tugging at the back of the dress, I try to calm myself.
I don’t like admitting that I’m scared. I’ve survived the last several years by never showing fear.
But Win…unsettled me.
It wasn’t even pain. I didn’t actually think he’d hurt me. But there was an energy between us that I don’t understand…it confuses everything.
And I can feel the power he has, his ability to wield it. But I’m even more afraid I’ll bend to his will if he does.
I slip off the dress and pull on my leggings and a sports bra.
Then I grab my suitcase from the closet.
I’m leaving. Tonight.
I know all the reasons I wanted Win’s help, but he’s too…
It’s the perfect time to go. With the event, hundreds of people will be exiting. I’ll just slip out between them, no one the wiser.
It’s a good plan, but I promptly forget it as I lift the case. The weight is off…
I slap the suitcase on the bed, undoing the zips. I don’t have much in terms of clothes, it was mostly filled with money.
Tossing open the top, I stare at the interior, my mouth hanging open. It’s empty.
My money is gone.
I let out a scream, my hands clenching at my sides. “Fucker,” I snarl, slamming the lid back on top of the case. Win did this. He’s taken my money. Tried to pin me down in an even more meaningful way.
I don’t even bother with a shirt or with shoes.
Slamming open my door, I stalk back down the hall. The party is in full swing, which is perfect.
I head back through the second-floor landing, passing the grand staircase, and then I make my way into the opposite wing.
At the very end of the hall is a set of double doors I know belong to him. His bedroom.
Tossing them open, I step into his room, stopping to take in the details. Large, curtained bed, dark mahogany furniture, thick carpets under my toes.
Beyond, his windows overlook the vast lawns and then the ocean beyond. A perfect view for the Duke of Grandmont.
I close the double doors behind me and set myself to exploring. Does he think he can just steal from me, and I won’t return the favor?
I’ve got all night to look, and whatever I take from him, I want it to hurt.
I start my search with an antique armoire.
I check the side tables next to the bed, then peek under the large mahogany frame, before I make my way into his private bathroom. It’s done in marble, crisp and clean, but I ignore the finishes and check the drawers.
It’s all standard supplies: razor, cologne, shavers, cufflinks.
Huffing with frustration, I enter the closet, the color-coded rows of clothing looking like money and smelling like Win.
How can a man that awful smell that good?
But I shake my head, standing up on tiptoe to scan the upper shelf. That’s when I see a hatbox.
It’s pink floral and is stark contrast to everything else in this room.
I pull it down, carrying it over to his bed.
Tossing back the dark blue bed curtains, I set the box down and pull the lid off.
Neatly folded on the top is a lovely pale blue pashmina. I pull it out and wrap it around my shoulders.
Beneath that, a stack of letters.
Next is a box. I open the lid and find some of the loveliest jewelry. A diamond ring sparkles in the center. I know it’s a box of mementos from his fiancée.
Things he values. Items he prizes. I empty the contents, stacking them in my arms and then leave the box on the bed.
I want him to know what I’ve done.
Walking back down the hall, pashmina still around my body, I pass by the party once again, listening to the merry sound of laughter.
Is Win charming some woman into being his bride right now? I snort. He’s about as charming as a desert snake.
I keep going past the stairs, returning to my room, where I start my next search. This one for the perfect hiding place. This is a game with which I’ve had loads of practice.
And I’ve got hours until Win is done with his party.
In the bathroom, I find a ceiling vent. It’s perfect.
Pulling a penny from my travel bag, I undo the screws and take off the metal grate cover.
Inside the pipe, I punch a hole. Carefully, I feed the items through the hole. They’ll be a bitch to retrieve but that isn’t my problem.
The pashmina I leave on, because it’s soft and pretty. And because it’s the perfect taunt.
Am I ruining the scent, covering hers with mine? He deserves it. Then I prop myself up on my pillows to wait.
There is no way a man like Win will leave this affront unanswered. It’s a dangerous game I’m playing. He’s already proven his strength, and I don’t know his nature. Not really. But I’m playing to win.
If I don’t get my money back, there is nothing left for me anyway. It was my only path forward.
After about an hour, I start to drift off. It’s been a long few days and I don’t expect to see Win for hours yet.
But I’ve no more than fallen asleep when the door to my room bangs open.
I jump, despite myself, my sleepy gaze clashing with his.
“What have you done?” He’s in his trousers and dress shirt, his jacket is gone, tie gone, and his shirt is partially undone.
I’m up on my knees in a heartbeat. “What have I done? What have you done? Where is my money?”
He shows his teeth. “That is hers. Take it off.”
I toss it off, exposing my ribs and stomach. They’re as bad as my back. He stops, his gaze drifting down me. “You had no right to take her things.” But his voice has lost some of its edge.
My hands come to my hips. “You had no right to take my money.”
Slowly he walks toward me, looking every inch like a predator stalking his prey. But I don’t budge. “Give me back her things.”
“Give me my money.”
His lips curls. “Money? She was going to be my wife. How dare you…”
“How dare you!” I point my finger toward my own body. “Look at me,” I gesture down my torso.
“I see you.” His eyes have taken on an unexpected wariness.
“Every one of these scars is a reminder of the man who was supposed to love me but never did.”
I see Win’s wince. I know I’ve got his attention now.
“The only thing he ever gave me, and he didn’t even mean for it to be a gift, was the casino that I sold to your brother to buy my freedom.
And you—” I point my finger again, jabbing it in his direction, “have taken both that freedom and the money from me. You want to tell me about how this is personal for you? Go right ahead. But don’t think for one second that you didn’t start this shit.
That you didn’t get personal first. And if this is the moment I’m supposed to feel sorry that I wore her shawl, fuck the fuck off Winston Smith. ”
He's slowed his pace now, but he keeps moving closer, a silent predator in my bedroom. Not that I’m clocking the danger. I’m too far gone, the anger burning me with it.
“And try to intimidate me by backing me against a wall again, and I’ll cut your balls off.” I slice my hand through the air, the anger burning so bright, I think I could light the room on fire.
He's right in front of me now, his hand snakes out, faster than I can respond, and suddenly, I’m moving up through the air, and then I land on my back on the bed.
He’s over me in a hot second. “Do not threaten me, Kat.”
“Or what? You’ll hurt me?” I sneer up at him, daring him to prove that he’s just as awful as my father.
“No.” And then one of his hands comes to my abdomen, covering my scars. The weight of his legs pin mine to the bed. His eyes hold my gaze. “I wouldn’t hurt you and I never should have made you feel like I would.”
“Then why am I on my back?”
“A lesson.”
“That you’re bigger? Stronger? I know.”
“That you should be more careful about whom you choose to fight, and you shouldn’t act out in anger, only strategy.”
It’s a fair point. But I’m not really in the mood. I try to buck him off, but between his weight and his hand on my stomach, he hardly moves. I let out a half cry, half growl of frustration as I try to buck him off again and then kick out. My legs barely move.
Now, I just want to rage, to expend the energy that’s pumping through my blood.
He doesn’t move as I twist, kicking my feet. He just holds.
I reach out with my hands, trying to scratch them down his face but he only pulls up enough so that I can’t reach.
“Give me the money. Give me my freedom, you son of a—”
“Don’t speak ill of my mother. She’s one of the few good people I know.”
“Lucky you,” I spit back.
His hand slides over my stomach holding my side, his fingers wrapping around my ribs. “She softened a very hard world for me. And it has only just occurred to me that no one has ever done that for you.”
My breath catches as I finally focus, realizing that I’ve scratched his neck all to hell. I blink up at him, trying to decide how to respond to that. “I don’t need softness. I need revenge.”
He stares down at me, his eyes dark and fathomless. “Interesting.”
I huff out a breath. “Can we not start doing that one word thing again.” But as quicky as the anger burned, it’s gone, and my body melts into the bed.
I seem to have worn out all my aggression.
Win’s free hand slides down my arm and then his fingers lightly circle my wrist. Then, he starts slowly sliding my arm up the bed. “What are you doing?”
“Rewriting that touch in the drawing room.”
“Why?”
“Because, when a man dominates a woman, it should only be for her pleasure.”
I stare up at him, my eyes going wide. “Pleasure?”
“Yes, my clawing kitty Kat. Pleasure.”
I turn my head to the side, watching my arm as he slides it over my head. I don’t resist. And the higher up my hand goes, the lower his chest moves until it’s pressed to mine.
His weight feels amazing. I’m not even a little frightened, he’s so controlled. If anything, I feel…safe.
I haven’t felt safe in so long, I can’t even remember.
That’s when a small sob breaks from my chest. I didn’t even know it was building until it breaks free.
If I haven’t felt like this in years, I haven’t cried since…
“Am I hurting you? Scaring you?” he stops, his nose brushing over my cheek.
“No,” I manage. “I just…” I don’t want soft feelings. I’m not even sure I care about life after my father’s is ruined.
He keeps bringing my hand up until it’s above my head and then he threads his fingers through mine, his nose brushing my cheek again.
This man has been nothing but hard since I met him. Why is he doing this now? Is it a trick? “Please stop.”
“Why?”
“Because…” My voice catches again. “You don’t like me, and I don’t like you.”
“Who says I don’t like you?”
My face snaps back to his so quickly, our noses bump. “Win.”
His hand at my ribs slides up, his thumb brushing the side of my breast. He smooths his palm around my shoulder, around my neck, cupping my jaw in his massive hand. Then, he tilts my chin until my lips meet his.
It’s only a light brush, a small touch, but it sends my whole world reeling. “Stop.”
“Why?”
“Stop asking why and get off me.”
Instead, he kisses me again. Another gentle brush. “I’ll give you your money back.”
I gasp in a breath, drawing in his. “Really?”
“But you have to promise to stay.”
I blink up at him before he dips down and kisses the corner of my mouth and then the tip of my nose. I feel the tears welling again. “I don’t think I should.”
“I thought you wanted to join forces?” And then he kisses my cheek.
My eyes flutter closed. Win is a man of power. And he has what my father lacks…control. But he must not have enough deep darkness for the job.
Then again, if he keeps kissing me like this, I might not either. “One more time. Stop.”
He kisses again. On my neck. And that’s when it hits me. I wanted to test Win tonight, to find out what he was made of.
And now I know.
In twenty-four hours, he’s tried three different methods and finally found the one that would bring me to my back.
He’s ruthless, and calculated, and in complete control. And his tests have been relentless, his methods methodical. He will beat my father, I’m sure of it.
“Fine,” I huff, as his lips slide lower. “I’ll stay.”
“Good girl.”
I start to tell him that I’m not a girl, but here I am under him, bending to his will. And I don’t know why that idea makes me soften further but it does, my legs sliding out from under his so that his hips settle into the V of my thighs.
I feel the hard ridge of his shaft pressing right between my legs, exactly where I ache, even as his lips slide over the pulsing vein in my neck.
I’ve never been more exposed, but I don’t feel in danger.
In fact, I think I want more.