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“Did you want to?”

She inhales, hands clasping each other. “They’re my parents.”

“And they’re the ones who got you involved in this which is why you’re sitting here, opposite me in a limo, after apparently being deflowered for everyone’s enjoyment.” I frown. “That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the, ah, roughing up of that particular flower, but it’s still attached. Not that they know it. But again, did you want to say goodbye?”

Those golden eyes narrow and her tits heave, nipples still hard. Fuck, were they enjoyable, too. I’d suck and bite them all day.

No. I wouldn’t. She has other things I’d busy myself with during that day.

“I mean, Lucie… it was all wrong.” I rub a hand over my eyes. “We had to wait so the sheet could be shown. The help dangling it from the railing of the first floor for everyone to witness, like Simba being dangled over Pride Rock inThe Lion Kingmovie… that was a nice touch, though.”

“I wanted to see my sister, hoped she’d at least show up tonight,” she whispers.

“Gone, Lucie. Left you in the dust to take her place with me, didn’t she?”

“She didn’t know?—”

Lucie stops, the misery grows, and my smile broadens.

“What?” I ask silkily. “That I’m younger than you both thought? And hotter?”

“Get your ego under control.” She looks out the window or,rather, at her reflection, since that’s what she’s going to see. The bulletproof glass is extra tinted back here for privacy.

This isn’t, thank Christ, a party limo. And we’re alone. My brothers are behind us in an SUV.

“Where’s the fun in that, Lucie?” I open the mini bar, then glance at her and make her a drink, the Dubious Joy as I’ve just dubbed it. Jack and Coke. I hold it out until she takes it.

“Thanks. Is that manners?” she asks. “I can’t quite tell.”

“I don’t have the kind of manners you mean. And no. Just have your basic little drink.” I pour my whiskey and take a long swallow. “So you just wish you could have said goodbye to your coward of a sister, assuming she’d been there?”

“I have a brother, too,” she says.

“Where the hell was he? Not protecting you, obviously.”

“He’s only seventeen.” Her eyes narrow.

I somehow control my smile. This is her, the real Lucie. Trying to control her natural impulses and failing. There’s no way she’s the obedient creature I’m betting her sister would’ve been.

Like her being in that shithole part of Queens, the badass virgin dressed like a hooker heading to a costume party. She’s a fighter. She fought that asshole I shot, then fought against me to finally escape. She’s not afraid to go after what she wants. And she knows how to protect herself.

But she also can lose control if the right buttons are pressed. Like her letting me do all kinds of filthy things to her in the park, her kissing me back. Eye fucking me, practically begging for more.

I was going to give her a room of her own in my house, but now I’m not sure.

Besides, she’s mine. I don’t want her thinking anyone else can touch her.

“Any of my brothers would have protected you, no matter their age.” I sip my drink.

“He’s at boarding school.”

“Now, is that where my mam went wrong? No boarding school for the likes of us.”

Did I know she had a brother?

I was probably told. It’d have been in the dossier Torin put together. It’s not important, like there being two sisters. All I wanted was this, a marriage, the fast and short path to my goal.

Lucie is an unexpected delight. That’s all.