31. Remy
Rhea getting obliterated in the first two hours of our open house was not on my ‘father’s wake’ bingo card. I guess I should have seen it coming, considering how quickly she slipped back toward denial. She handled everything too well—because she’s not handling it at all—and it should have been obvious that she was going to end up like this. I just hope it’s a one-time thing, because between her and her best friend sauntering around my house in that goddam dress like a nymph, I think I may soon follow my father to the grave. They’re trying to kill me—maybe not outright, but intent is still ? of the crime. That’s why I’m in my study trying to slow my racing heart and quell the anger swelling through me.
Leaving Wes alone with a man that Dimitri hired only yesterday doesn’t sit well with me, but neither does standing by his side as he spews vitriol and fucks with his victim. And what’s worse is watching Claire fuck with him, like she’s getting off on the exchange… like she wants to fuck him. I could see her desire written on every inch of her body; She wears it like a brand on her forehead. I’m honestly not sure there’s a man downstairs who didn’t see it.
I know there was something going on between the two of them before I came along. If I hadn’t made myself a factor when I showed up to bring them to Costa Rica, would Claire have fucked him? Would she have happily sank to her knees for him, or fallen asleep in his bed only to wake with a collar on her neck? Given how she was acting just now, I’m not entirely sure she would have minded it. And there’s nothing wrong with that—I’ve been with women who have all sorts of kinks—except the fact that Wes wouldn’t have ever freed her. He’d use her until it was time to pass her along and wipe his hands clean of her blood.
That’s the problem. Consent isn’t sexy to a guy like Wes. I’ve been in the business long enough to have him figured out. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree with him. Men who can have anything they want eventually get bored with the offerings and decide to take that which doesn’t belong to them. It’s the empire that our fathers built—a throne of gold atop the battered and broken bodies of thousands of men, women, and children. Wes and I were born at the top, balancing precariously on the lives and deaths of others. My father has lost his crown, but I’m still stuck at the top, trying to figure out how to get down.
Killing Davos won’t end it. I know that. It’s not enough to grant him his life when I know exactly what he’s capable of. His death may ensure Claire’s safety, since he’s the purveyor of everything that takes place under his station. His blood on my hands will only make it harder to climb down from here—two more will pop up in his place. The only way to defeat a hydra is to first chop off the center head—the one thing that unites everyone in their empire of ruin.
The money.
I squeeze the glass in my hand so tight I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. I’m equally surprised when the door of my study opens slowly, and I look up to find Claire leaning quietly against the doorframe. “You okay?”
God. Just the sight of her is breathing life into my cock again after I finally just got it to stand by. “Fine.”
I want her to turn away and go back downstairs, but I also don’t want her to leave. And I don’t want other men looking at her, talking to her, thinking about what’s under that dress. It’s wrong, I know, to want to try and possess her when I’ll never lay claim to her. It’s why I want to see her walk out of the room as much as I want her to shut the door and come ride on my dick until she’s seeing stars.
“Once more,” she crosses her arms, a smirk tipping the corner of her red-painted lips. “With feeling.”
Cocky little thing. I manage to keep my eyes locked on hers when I tell her, “I don’t have feelings.”
Claire only laughs. “Sure.”
She waits for an answer while I drain the rest of the bourbon from my glass and set it down with a little more force than necessary. But I don’t have any response for that, so I ignore her for a moment longer, pretending to shuffle some things around on my desk. When I look back up at her, heat spills in my stomach. “What do you want, Claire?”
Her fa?ade falters. For just a moment, I see hurt flash in her eyes. And then it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. “I just wanted to be sure you were alright. You seemed… agitated.”
I drop the pen I just picked up a moment earlier and stand. It only takes a few strides to cross the room and snatch her against my chest. She has the foresight to kick the door shut behind her, which is smart because I doubt she wants anyone to overhear what I’m going to say. “Do I seem agitated, Claire?”
I almost expect her eyes to spark with fear, but she only chuckles as she looks up at me, holding her thumb and forefinger up just a hair apart. “A little bit.”
“Why on Earth would I be agitated? Doesn’t every man dream of watching a beautiful woman eye-fuck his sadistic half-brother right in front of him?”
Instead of wincing at my accusation or the anger in my voice, she simply raises an eyebrow. The corner of her mouth twitches, like she’s trying not to laugh. I want to wipe the smile off her face—maybe bury her face in the sheets until that smile turns to a scream while I hammer into her from behind so hard that she forgets other men even exist.
No.
Bad idea.
“What?” I demand. It’s terse, more of a growl than a question.
She shrugs, humming some sort of noncommittal noise that only serves to irritate me further. I tighten my grip on her until she looks up at me with those clear eyes that I’ve been bewitched by since the start. “That’s just the first time you’ve complimented me.” When I only stare at her, she shrugs again. “I can never tell what’s going on in your head. It’s just nice to know.”
I suppose she’s right. I haven’t told her she’s beautiful; I assumed she knew as much. Besides, I’ve been trying to fight the attraction I feel to her, of course I’m not going to string her along with niceties. I need her to be willing to walk away and that won’t happen if I let her know I think she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. As much as all that is true, her words are also ironic. “You think I can tell what’s going on in your head? You think it doesn’t bother me to see you go from zero to sixty as easily as if you flipped a switch? I can’t tell if you’re ashamed of fucking me, or what we did before that.”
The air between us seems to thicken, but there’s no hesitation in her voice when she speaks. “None of it.”
Fuck.
The air isn’t the only thing that thickens. I can feel my erection growing in my slacks. She can probably feel it too, pressed as she is against me. I push her away from me, just lightly enough to give myself the strength to take a few steps back, putting a respectable distance between us. She never even teeters on her heels, never falters. Her gaze stays on my back as I turn away from her, trying to get a moment to compose myself.
“I don’t regret it, Remy. I’d do it again.”
Well, that doesn’t help matters.
The blood in my veins is heating rapidly, blood lust mixing with my lust for her tight body.
“Claire,” I sigh, raking my hand through my hair. I haven’t gotten the courage to turn back to face her. I think once I do, my resistance will snap like a rubber band stretched too far. I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself.
“Remy,” her voice mimics my frustration. I stiffen when her hands land on my shoulders. She massages them like she can erase all of the tension, the frustration, the confusion. She’s seducing me wholly—mind, body, soul. I’ve struggled for years with killing, done what was needed, and never wanted to do any of it. But part of what’s had me in a twist these last few days is the fact that for once, I didn’t just do what I had to. For once, I liked killing someone.
Every part of me hates to admit that, even to myself. I enjoyed taking the life of the piece of shit who ruined Claire’s life and a half dozen others. It’s not the peace of knowing that one less monster is walking the world that’s got my thoughts in knots. It’s the power I felt when I took his life and all the things he stole from his victims, the power that Claire stole back from him, that is filling me with a need as strong as my need for her.
But I am not the monsters that made me—I won’t succumb to it.
“What we did was wrong.” I tell her firmly.
“Then why did it feel so right?”
It’s just a whisper, but it startles me. I didn’t realize she was so close, but she’s pressing herself against me. The heels help with the height difference, but I imagine she’s on the tips of her toes all the same. I’ve lost track of what we’re talking about—the murder or the sex. My silence speaks for itself, and despite her earlier sentiment about not being able to tell what’s going on in my head, she answers the question I didn’t ask. “I mean both. If you want to kill them all, I’ll sharpen your knife along with my own. If you want to watch them burn, I’ll douse them in gasoline.”
They’re pretty words, maybe even a pretty thought. But I won’t let myself entertain them. They imply a future in which we’re together in some capacity. That’s not only unrealistic, it’s impossible. The battle I’m fighting will rage the rest of my life. I won’t let anyone else be wrapped up in it. I learned that lesson years ago. And given how I was ready to burn the world down when Claire was taken, I clearly can’t handle getting closer to her.
I spin around so that she can’t mistake the sincerity in my voice. This is too important to be delicate.
“There’s no future for you and me, Claire. There’s no world in which you and I will ever be anything more than tethered by my sister. I apologize if something I did has led you to believe that we could be more, but it will never happen.”
I almost expect her to crumble, or maybe just wince as if I’ve slapped her. I think maybe she’ll hold back tears, but her eyes will water, or she’ll try to fight me. Perhaps I’ve overestimated her opinion of me. Or, perhaps, it’s just that she’s not the same timid girl she was when she walked into my life. That shouldn’t scare me, but it does. Of all the murders I’ve had a hand in, that would be the one I regret most of all.
“I think you’ve misunderstood me, Remy.” Her voice is low, hinting at a laugh. “I’m not asking for anything. This isn’t me proposing marriage.” This time, she lets the chuckle break through her chest. It’s not the clear, unreserved sound I expect from her. It’s… condescending. Claire shakes her head, turning to go, but I snare her upper arm, spinning her back to face me at the same time as reeling her into me again. She’s so light she spins easily into me, throwing her hands out to brace against my chest a moment too late.
Her cockiness is gone as she looks up at me, her lips parted like she’s just waiting for the right words to find their way there. I weave my fingers through her hair, making it clear that she’s not going anywhere. “What were you proposing, then?”
I’m leaning into her; my words whisper over her lips. I brush the pad of my thumb over them, enjoying the velvety feel as they tremble under my touch. She told me she’d douse our enemies in gasoline, but I think she may have done the same to me. And she’s the flame, dangerous temptress who can ruin everything I’ve worked to secure for the last few years. The longer she’s near, the greater the chances that I’m going to be burnt… or she’ll take us both out in a blaze of glory.
But what pretty fireworks we’d make, her and I, blazing bright one last time through the dark.
“Not many people know the truth about you, Remy. And not many people know the truth about me. I wasn’t asking you to give me your last name. Give me your darkness, your shadows and sharp edges. Give me your pain and your rage. And take mine in return.”
I want to devour her lips, the words from them are so fucking delicious. But I need to know that we’re on the same page first. “We’ll never go anywhere, Claire. One night?” I’m not sure if I’m asking her permission or warning her to fight against me and go. I’d let her go if she tried to get away from me, but she’s not interested in getting away from me. In fact, I think she forms herself to me even more when her mouth whispers over mine.
“If one night is enough for you.”