Page 55 of Contract of a Billionaire

My memory was still fucked up from that night three months ago. Whatever it was, it had to be bad, judging from Autumn’s reaction. I’d been digging and digging to find the information on who fucking slipped that drug into my drink.

I finally had a name. Two names. And both were in London.

Talk about karma.

* * *

Two days later,I was in a London cellar, examining the fucker and his woman. They were both strung up with cuffs, their arms spread into a V-position. I felt a bit creative so I pinned nails through their palms.

My ears didn’t thank me because they screamed like little bitches. I could still hear the ringing in my ears. Good thing the basement of my London townhouse in the heart of Chelsea Barracks in central London was soundproof.

My eyes flicked to their feet that were stained with blood. I felt generous and left them dangling, just so they could feel that nail stretching that hole in their palms. Although I did break their kneecaps beforehand.

After all, I couldn’t be too generous.

“Should have gone on a diet,” I told them both, following up with a click of my tongue.

I was extra agitated, counting down the hours until Autumn’s arrival. Four more hours.

My eyes roamed over their bodies, mottled with black and blue bruises. I was never fond of torturing a woman. In fact, I’d never tortured one before. But there was a first time for everything.

She costmeeverything.

“Okay, let’s try this again,” I started, snapping on a pair of gloves and then finding my way to the table with tools. Knives. Screwdrivers. Brass knuckles. Nail gun.

You name it, I had it.

Ricardo was with me, his arms folded over his chest and a bored expression on his face. He wanted to start the torture session hours ago. I wanted them to think about it for a bit. Psychological torture was so much worse when left to fester in someone’s mind.

“I’d pick a nail gun,” Ricardo muttered. “Give him a piercing. Or two.”

I grinned. Ricardo could be sadistic when he wanted to be.

“Let’s use it for every wrong answer,” I told him. “I want to make you happy. I know you’re itching to use that nail gun.”

“Man, you are the best boss.” Ricardo grabbed the nail gun and ensured it contained nails while I selected a knife. It was easier to cut up a person with a knife than a nail gun.

I faced the beaten fucker and smiled.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” I didn’t wait for him to answer and pressed the tip of the knife into his neck. “Your name and who sent you?”

“Fuck you,” he spat.

I glanced at Ricardo. “Want to use the nail gun and then I cut him?” I feigned a thoughtful expression. “Or you can shove that nail gun into the bitch and he can watch?”

Ricardo shrugged. “Or you cut her open and he watches? If he doesn’t answer, then I patch her up with a nail gun.”

Ricardo and I grinned viciously. This was the shit that happened when people crossed you.

“A sound plan.” I pressed the tip of the knife to her sternum, my eyes on her as she shook with fear. She kept glancing at the man, hoping he'd save her.

“Did I give you permission to touch me in Abu Dhabi?” I asked calmly. But it was all a disguise. On the inside, fury burned and something dark rooted in my chest. “Tell me what happened and who’s behind it?”

Her eyes widened but she kept shaking her head. She wasn’t scared enough. Of me anyhow. So I pressed the blade harder against her skin and dragged the knife down her torso. She screamed as blood welled and trickled down her body.

And I felt nothing. Fucking nothing.

I was about to push the blade into her belly but her man screamed the answer. “It was your father,” he yelled. “He wanted my wife to fuck you. He paid a million upfront and a million once the job was done. He wanted the girl out.”