Chapter 31
Cora
Ithought Viper in his tight jeans and T-shirt and Breaker in his sleek, black-on-black tux was dangerously sexy. But nothing could prepare me for the level of pure male these two emanate, wearing tailored suits, crisp ties, and arrogant expressions.
Viper stands a good two inches shorter than Breaker, yet he doesn’t lose an ounce of his commanding presence. He sucks the air from the room, my lungs. Piercing ocean-blue eyes glint with an intensity I’ve never seen in him before, sending an electric jolt through my core.
During those weeks back at the mansion, I watched them long enough that I can tell they are both tense under those precisely cut suits.
I suck in a breath, forcing myself not to react. I just walked in on a deal between Zane and the men.
I am part of that deal.
You don’t know them, Cora, I remind myself. You don’t know how they taste, or what they sound like when they come. Certainly, you've never known sweet words whispered in your ear or a hand between your thighs, nor promises.
The silent reminder doesn’t help my jittery nerves.
Viper remains motionless, eyes traveling from my shoes to the top of my head, lingering on my legs.
Breaker stands equally still beside him, his gorgeous face stern, jawline hard enough to cut teeth.
I note how he taps his thigh a few times, then drops his hand, like he realized what he was doing and forced himself to stop.
If I weren’t so terrified of slipping up, I’d be enjoying this. Fooling Zane. But right now, terror snakes a path through my stomach, and I’m worried Zane will suddenly figure out their ruse.
“Ah, Zane’s ex-fiancée,” Breaker says. His cool tone and the slight tilt of his head as he stares at me have me blinking in shock. He doesn’t even sound like himself, and I swear there’s a hint of something dark in his expression.
Something cruel that doesn’t fit with the man I’ve come to know.
I don’t like it. His casual indifference.
“If only he were that lucky,” I say, acid lining each word as I fall into my role.
Before I can take a step toward the men, Zane grabs my arm with his good hand and drags me toward the bar. I catch the furious, deadly expression on Viper’s face as his eyes flicker toward Breaker. I swear we have the same thought.
If Zane doesn’t get his hands off me, Breaker might explode at any moment.
“Listen, whore,” Zane whispers, when we’re out of earshot, “you’re going to be a good little bitch and sit down and be quiet.”
I plaster a smile on my face. “Might want to be a good boy, and remember”—I lean in, letting my smile fade—“to shut the fuck up when I tell you before you end up on Papa’s bad side.”
His jaw flexes, teeth grinding with an audible click as he stands to his full height, staring down at me with such hatred my skin pricks. Maybe threatening him again, reminding him what I know, isn’t a good idea, but it’s all I have in my arsenal.
“I’m not scared of you,” he sneers.
My lip curls into a smirk at how easily I rattle him. “Really? You ran to Rune with rattling knees and did exactly as I demanded.” I smooth a hand over my thigh, wiping away nervous sweat on my sleek black dress. “So unless you want all your secrets to spill from my lips, back the fuck off.”
“The only thing spilling from your lips will be their cum.” A grotesque smile cuts across his face. Sharp and cruel. “Is he whoring you out to all three of them? Rune must be sick of your sloppy cunt.”
Anger shoots up my spine, straightening it. I try to jerk out of his grasp, but his hand tightens. The night of the fundraiser flashes through my mind. Rune forcing me to my knees, Zane’s dick slipping over my mouth.
Of course, he knows what Rune does.
Zane knows everything. Why should this surprise me?
“Fuck you, Zane,” I say, his words creating a hollowed-out cavern in my chest.
“Where is your nasty lapdog?” Zane hisses, “Is he too busy to save you again?”
The door behind us opens, and Clyde enters the room, adjusting his cuffs. He shoots Zane a murderous look when he sees his fingers wrapped around my bicep. “If you want to keep the use of your right hand, keep your filthy fingers to yourself.”
“Right,” Zane says, dropping his hand. “Don’t want to taint the merchandise.”
I grind my jaw, keeping every foul thing I want to scream locked behind my teeth. I know if I lose control, it will jeopardize this meeting the men have worked so hard to set up.
Part of me wonders if Reaper had a feeling that Rune would use me this way. If this was his plan when he sent me back. He had to know Rune would do anything, use any means, to get close to them.
It makes me wonder how much of this plan he’s manipulated. Fucking us that night in Rune’s club. Taking me along with Delilah.
Sending me back.
Me in this room, right now.
I take a deep breath and smile at Zane. If it means I have to shove any last bits of pride down to the depths of hell to stay in Rune’s good graces, then I will. Reaper wants information.
“Shall we get to it?” I ask, turning toward Viper and Breaker, and stalking toward the table where they stand.
That’s when I notice the weapons.
I pause mid-stride, reminding myself not to react, not to look at the men, but I fail on one count—reacting—but succeed by looking at Zane.
“Are we training to be Samurai now?” I ask, doing my best to cover my misstep as I approach.
When I reach a chair, intending to sit, Zane grips my arm. “Whores don’t sit at the table,” he says, pointing to the bar where Clyde’s slowly lowering himself onto a stool, his body rigid with rage. “Go sit like a good little bitch until they’re ready to test the goods.”
My shoulders stiffen. I let out a slow, steady breath, my cheeks heating.
“Then I guess you’ll be taking the seat next to me.” I point to the bar. “You know, where the whores sit.”
“Cora,” Clyde warns.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Zane says.
He snaps, and the dark-haired guard standing behind Breaker stalks toward me and grips my arm.
He drags me back toward Clyde, who looks like he’s about to burst out of his skin.
I jerk my arm from his grasp, smoothing down my dress, trying to calm the boiling in my blood.
The guard pulls out a stool, taps my ass and gives it a pinch. “Sit down, pretty girl.” He winks. “Be a good girl.”
My hands fist, nails digging into my palms. Shame makes my heart race.
Seems the fall from ruin lands me in the gutter.
The humiliation of all the years I let Rune touch me to keep myself in his good graces has led me here.
The fact that the men around me know it makes it so much worse.
I’m forced to be grateful for this fucked-up situation because he’s literally handing me over to them instead of Zane.
Or someone else. I’m not even allowed the dignity of fighting it.
Because I would. I would fight this tooth and nail if I didn’t know the men.
I glance at Clyde. He’s watching me, like he’s waiting. He knows me well enough that I, Cora Julian, daughter of the disgraced Caroline Julian, the most ruthless businesswoman to ever grace the underworld of Miami, would never tolerate being called a whore or being shoved around by Zane.
Steeling my spine, I face the guard. “What is your name?”
A slick smile forms. “Damon.”
“Well, Damon, how about this?” I lean in, smiling sweetly. “Touch me again and I’ll use your pistol to shoot off every finger you used to grope me.”
Flicking my hair over my shoulder, I turn and stalk across the room, my heels clicking on the glossy floor, each step precise and defiant.
I stop before the table laid out with various swords and knives, and plant my palms on the cool surface, leaning forward until I can see the flecks of gold in Viper’s irises, then shift to meet Breaker’s unflinching gaze.
The corner of his mouth twitches. A faint smile, barely there, then gone, but my pulse jumps anyway.
“It appears my associate forgets his manners,” I say. “I’m Rune Gavin’s adopted daughter and accountant. The same person who drafted the papers for the hotel acquisitions.”
“Oh, I remember you.” Viper’s voice drops an octave, a hint of an accent curling around the words like smoke. “You’re a hard one to forget.”
“Just sit down, Cora,” Zane says, tone bored as he gestures to the empty chair. “I want to get this over with.”
Viper stands, pulling out the seat next to him, and I lower myself, glaring at Zane. “Need a coke break already?” I ask him, settling into the seat.
“Feisty,” Viper says, looming over me. He snags a loose curl, wrapping it around his finger. “I like a little fight.”
My cheeks heat at the suggestive tone.
Jesus. Okay. So Viper, or rather, Vince, is flirty.
My eyes drift to his thick thighs stretching the black fabric of his slacks.
When I realize I’m staring, I slap his hand away the way I would, had I not desperately wanted to be in his lap, nibbling at his powerful jaw, and return my attention to Zane.
I never thought looking at Zane would be preferable, but a seductive Viper is messing with my equilibrium.
Clearing my throat, I keep my focus on Zane. “What are we buying? Rune isn’t one for collecting swords and”—I gesture to the long knives lining the table—“whatever this is.”
Viper leans over me and picks up a large curved sword, holding in both hands to show me.
“A genuine Japanese Katana. Tamahagane steel.” The slick sound as he unsheathes it sends a strange heat sparking low in my belly.
His thumb runs along the carvings in the handle, and he tilts the sword slightly, displaying the etches along the blade, then slides it back in its sheath and picks up another smaller knife.
“A drop-point hunter crafted by Warenski.”
Zane points to a simple knife resting closer to him. “How sharp is that one?”