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A knock at the door startles me and I slide my phone under the pillow.
“Come in,” I call out.
When the door opens, I freeze.
“Hello sweetheart,” Pierce says and closes the door behind him.
No. Please. No.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MADDOX
––––––––
“She is still fucking marrying him!” I yell, tossing my phone on the sofa the next night.
I know I shouldn’t be surprised. I kidnapped her. Took away her freedom. The only thing she has ever wanted.
Apparently.
Little does Kyra know that Pierce is going to take far more. He will take her freedom and her soul. Her pride and humanity.
I should know.
I want to destroy him, but with the heat on us all—me—the last thing I can do is send a hitman to his house. Trust me, I want to.
Am I capable of killing my own father?
Yes.
I was a week ago, and now, the thought of him touching Kyra has my finger hovering over a number I have committed to memory.
It has always been Plan B.
Now, after speaking to him on the phone, I want him gone. Completely.
I pace the floor of my penthouse and fight every instinct that tells me to drive the fuck over to the Fox mansion and steal her one more time.
She hasn’t replied to my message.
I know she’s read it. I’m a fucking tech security specialist and know how to monitor these things. Well, that and the two little ticks on the screen.
Fuck me.
I’m like a teenage goddamn girl.
Kyra has chosen not to reply, and I need to respect that.
No, I fucking don’t.
I also need to stay away—so says my lawyer and the police. But fuck them. They don’t understand that she belongs to me.
“It’s her choice,” Parker says from my balcony and blows out the smoke from his cigar.
“Stop smoking those fucking things. They stink.” I growl, shooting him a look.
“I’m trying them out. I think they make me look distinguished.” He shrugs.