Chapter 28
twenty-eight
. . .
The crash of something falling over, followed by what sounded like someone hitting wood, drew my gaze over my shoulder and the attention of the room.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” A smile stretched my lips.
My little fox, the woman with those captivating amber eyes and succulent mouth that gagged around my cock so fucking perfectly, I’d swear she was crafted with me in mind, leaned over one of the officer’s desks, palms planted on the brown wood.
Pure determination burned across her beautiful face, her body language suggesting she was ready for war.
Intrigued, I turned away from the station chief who was helping me ease the mind of a witness before I took matters into my own hands and watched the spitfire grill the officer.
Anger made her voice rise an octave and the dumbass stared at her, glanced around then spoke softly. Whatever he said seemed to irk her more and as I waited for her outburst, the chief left my side, approaching them.
Their ensuing conversation further exasperated her. Lips pursed, she straightened, her eyes spotting me standing across the room with my hands in my pants pockets, one shoulder against the wall, my smirk effortless.
Alarm then wariness or perhaps fear, sprinted over her face a moment before heat pinked her cheeks, whether out of disbelief or embarrassment, I wasn’t sure. But her fight returned swiftly, glowing with rage yet seemingly in full control of her emotions. Surpassingly, that turned me the fuck on.
I cocked a brow and her eyes narrowed, her scowl deadly. Another second and she shifted her gaze to the officer.
Her easy dismissal hardened my dick and I noted the reaction with a grin. Looked like the fucker was way more interested in my little fox than I would’ve thought. But my brain misfired, intent on punishing that disregard. No one ignored me, least of all a woman I hadn’t even fucked.
Yet.
“Remo Rossi is a criminal and deserves to be jailed.” She didn’t even look at me when she yelled out loud enough for me to hear, subsequently rolling her eyes at the officer before storming out.
“Well, color me fucking interested.” She was toying with me and doing a damn good job too.
I was going to enjoy gagging that pretty little mouth of hers again.
Or perhaps hate fucking her pussy was exactly what the doctor ordered.
Of course, there was still the penalty of her knife throwing to be considered.
While her sharp weapon would’ve caused considerable damage if it connected with the right vein, that gutsy act alone had me salivating to taste her blood once more.
The chief returned to my side and while he droned on about the witness, my thoughts drifted. Not to the man I planned to kill if he didn’t toe the line, to her.
My defiant little fox.
The memory of her blood on my tongue, the sweetest sin a man like me could savor, invited me to take more, to fuck her in every way possible. Ruin her body, her mind, her fucking soul.
I licked my lips, searching for her taste and caught myself with a silent scoff.
I wasn’t a man easily swayed by pussy, but my darkness craved light, a purity I loved to wreck, and her snarky innocence practically glowed its welcome. Only, it was just something I desired, not what I needed. In my world, if it wasn’t needed, it wasn’t important.
So why the fuck was I this distracted.
Anger served my purpose well, the only emotion I felt toward anyone who wasn’t my brother, Rayden or Dario.
Even Gian saw the brunt of my annoyance regularly.
Over time I learned that acting the proverbial loose cannon gave me an edge, catching those that underestimated me off guard and I preferred that advantage.
Then there was my handsome face, as Uncle Frank often pointed out, it masked my psychotic tendency with ease.
Regardless, I was never sidetracked until now. Until her.
And I didn’t fucking like it.
Instinct warned me this woman was dangerous to my control but reporting me to the cops, now that made the temptation irresistible.
I’d never be the devil masquerading as an angel or a wolf cloaked in lamb’s wool, I believed in a ‘what you see is what you get’ authenticity.
Thanks to my mother, my personality existed on three shades of dark.
Black. Fucked Up. Unhinged.
Each situation demanded a certain hue, yet I never knew beforehand what it would be. What I did know for certain though, was rebellion or not, this woman had earned herself the perfect punishment.
And fuck if I wouldn’t enjoy that.
The knife wounds I’d left on her today, would heal and eventually fade, what I had planned for her though, would brand her mine.
Tomorrow, my mark would remain incognito, infallible, indestructible. Most importantly.
Indelible.