Page 12 of Cruel Pawn (Cruel Duet #1)

Priya

T hree months later

“Oh, Freddo,” I gasped, clasping my hands to my chest as I stared at the hideous painting perched on a stand before me.

My current persona was an artist, but because my artistic ability didn’t run remotely close to realistic still life, beautiful landscapes, or pleasing portraits, I was a modern abstract artist. It was the only style I could potentially blag, and I’d naively assumed it was easy.

Nope. Every last splatter and brush stroke and sweep of colour needed to be placed with care or it looked a fucking mess.

And there was a clear distinction between an artistic mess and a true mess.

Right now, I was staring at a true mess, but my current mark—Frederic Lavigne, heir to a luxury car empire, who had an unfortunate gambling problem and owed some very bad people a shocking amount of money—looked so pleased with himself that I wasn’t about to tell him that.

Besides, I was so close to being done with this job.

It had two aims, both of which paid handsomely—get my hands on his daddy’s fortune and hand a nice chunk of it to my client, then kill Frederic as a message to any other trust fund babies and entitled assholes not to mess with the Lynch family.

Once the Lynches paid me, I’d have more than enough to finally get the name of the bastard who killed my parents.

I was so close to being done, and I wasn’t about to give Frederic—who for some inane reason preferred to be called Freddo, like the fucking chocolate frog—any reason to doubt me. Well, doubt Eloise, my current persona.

Eloise was a lot more dignified and cultured than Carmen had been.

Eloise had been raised in privilege with poise and a chip on her shoulder.

She thought she was better than most people and spent a lot of time smirking and making veiled comments about people’s family and upbringing and unfortunate qualities.

In short, she was a bitch, but that was Freddo’s type.

Freddo, at least, had the decency to live his entire life on Instagram and TikTok for me to create a well-rounded profile. Unlike my last target.

Do not think of him, I snarled at myself, keeping my eyes on the painting Freddo had delivered, probably in an attempt to get a blow job. I hadn’t crossed that line with him in the three weeks we’d known each other, mostly because my stomach tangled at the mere thought.

Don’t think of him.

“This stroke here,” I said, glancing my fingers through the air as I stared at the painting, an explosion of black and grey, with a vivid vermillion that spoke of anger and blood and passion and—

Do not think of him, I swear to fucking god Priya.

“It’s a masterpiece,” I finished, a little gravel in my voice that I hadn’t planned to be there.

I shoved all those memories into a vault and turned to Freddo with a diminutive smile.

Eloise never grinned, never beamed. She had no joy in her life, only a set of parents with very high expectations and a ticking clock to find a husband.

She smirked and simpered, but never truly smiled.

“I’ll keep it in pride of place, right there,” I said, pointing to the mantelpiece wall, a sad stretch of white paint.

I’d leave it there when he was dealt with, too.

I had no use for art in my life; I could hardly carry that from city to city as I took on jobs.

And Silvio was still a little salty about the last thing I palmed off on him.

(Mr. Marmalade was doing fine in case you were wondering.)

My skin crawled as Freddo’s arms came around me from behind, but I forced myself to relax, to exhale a sigh like his touch pleased me.

His lips brushed my shoulder, and I turned for a proper kiss, melting into the soft caress of his lips with Herculean effort.

I tried not to think about the three other women he was kissing on a regular basis.

Probably the only reason he hadn’t thrown a shit-fit over me withholding sex.

Don’t think about all the diseases you could catch by kissing him.

I let my mind wander, my eyes fluttering shut as his tongue invaded the sanctuary of my mouth, his cigarette taste overwhelming the flavour of the matcha latte I’d had before he arrived.

Letting my mind wander was a bad, bad idea.

Freddo’s golden good looks sharpened to cheekbones as dangerous as knives, dark eyes even sharper, and a mouth that smiled too fucking easily, that bled adoration and praise as easily as it shed blood.

For a moment, my sigh was real, my softness was real, and I lost myself in kissing him.

Until Freddo groaned, his voice so clearly not Arden’s, and I ripped myself away.

Fuck. Do not think about him. Not now, not ever.

The second I woke up after my failed murder attempt, I fled and set up a new life in Oxford. I couldn’t stay in London and risk the scant chance that I’d run into him again.

Hands pawing at my ass ripped me out of my head, and I gave Freddo a sultry, teasing smile even if inside, I was counting down the seconds until I could kill him.

I peered into his eyes and saw justice, saw vindication, saw answers I’d been waiting fifteen years for.

I’d finally know who had my parents killed.

I’d finally get vengeance for their deaths.

“When are you letting me inside that hot snatch?” Freddo purred, squeezing my ass to bring my pussy against his hard cock.

My pussy turned bone fucking dry, and not even an errant thought about him that snuck through was enough to get me wet again.

Someone really should have told Freddo that hot snatch was not a sexy phrase.

“You know when,” I replied in the same husky, carnal voice, trailing my hands over his shoulders and down his chest. “I’m a traditional girl, Freddo.”

“The second my ring’s on that finger, I’m feeding your virgin hole all this fat cock, babygirl. It might hurt at first, but don’t worry, we’ll make it fit.”

I’d never been less horny. It took all my acting skills to appear disappointed when my phone rang, a twinkle of piano notes rising into the air because Eloise was classy and didn’t have pop music as her ring tone, even if I really wanted to make it the newest Taylor Swift song.

“That’ll be my dad asking where I am,” I demurred, letting one hand stroke down his chest and glance off his erection.

Freddo licked his lips when I pulled away, trying to dampen my desperation as I pressed the phone to my ear.

Ugh, gross. Freddo reached inside his trousers and adjusted his cock.

I forced a blush to my cheeks—too damn easy now, with certain memories always within reach—and turned to the window as I answered the call.

“Heroic rescue, as requested,” Silvio said gallantly. I could have done without the laughter in his voice. “You haven’t thrown up all over darling Freddo yet, have you?”

“No, not yet,” I replied with a note of apology and respect, like I really was speaking to my father. But I’d never speak to him again because someone had him and my mum taken out. Soon, I’d know why. Soon, I’d make them pay. “I’m leaving now.” I glanced over at Freddo and mouthed sorry.

“I can’t believe you haven’t killed him already,” Silvio laughed. “He’s got fish lips, Pri. They’re all slimy and gross.”

Yeah, you’re telling me. I just had them all over my mouth.

I made a show of rushing to get my coat, searching the flat for my keys and phone.

Be brave, Priya, think of the money. I kissed Freddo’s fish lips one last time as we both hurried out the door of the terrace house I’d rented, him thankfully heading towards his car and not lingering for another feel of my ass.

“How long until you’re rid of him?”

“Another few days. A week max,” I replied.

I had no choice but to lock up and get into my car.

My excuse for leaving was meeting my family at mosque for prayer, but maybe I’d actually visit the mosque instead of praying at home for once.

I was out of sorts, and my stomach was twisted after getting so close to Freddo; I could use the settling, the calm.

“Did you find anything about the breach?”

“Nope,” Silvio replied, the sound of keys clacking in the background as he typed. “I’m hardly an expert, but I did hook up with this one guy who is an expert, and long story short I convinced him to take a look at your security.”

“You convinced him with your dick, didn’t you?

” I asked, smirking as I tossed my phone on the passenger seat and turned the key in the ignition.

It was a beautiful Mercedes, because Eloise would never drive a basic car out of fear of what people would say if she was caught in it, and it purred to life beneath me.

Not gonna lie, the car turned me on far more than Freddo had.

“I have a very convincing dick,” Silvio agreed. “Let’s just say it convinced him to hack your systems—”

“Silvio!” I hissed, thinking of everything he’d exposed to some random hacker guy.

I had receipts for things that really shouldn’t be documented on my laptop, not to mention all my research on my current mark—and my client—and everything I’d dared to save of my past jobs.

If someone got into my files and saw all that, it was enough to incriminate me.

Not to mention, there was a folder full of files about my family. Over the years, I’d collected every last scrap of information I could find about them. But I’d found nothing to indicate anyone wanting them dead. They were civil servants, not career criminals like me. They didn’t have enemies.

“If he even thinks about sharing what he saw—”

“You’ll kill him,” Silvio interrupted, his voice accompanied by a loud purr I fervently hoped had a feline, and not masculine, source. “I know. I told him that, and he took it very, very seriously if his nod was anything to judge by. He couldn’t talk at the time because—”

“He was choking on your very persuasive cock?”

“Yup. He knows the consequences. And don’t worry, he’s not exactly on the right side of the law himself. I’ve got enough to bury him if I get even a flicker of suspicion that he's about to threaten my bestie.”

“Aww, you really think I’m your bestie?” I said in my sweetest voice, hitting the breaks as some entitled prick in a BMW decided to cut across my path.

“You are my bestie,” he insisted, “and I know I’m yours, so don’t even try to deny it. Also, don’t run anyone down, yeah? Road rage is a lot harder to hide than calculated murder.”

“You’re lucky this line is encrypted,” I muttered. You didn’t just go around saying your friends were capable of calculated murder. Even if they were. “What did your hacker find?”

“Nothing. He can see where someone tested your defences and maybe forced a way in, but there’s no trace of him—”

“Or her—”

“—or any indication that they opened files. It looks like they just tested the firewalls.”

“Hm.” I pressed my lips into a thin line.

“What are you thinking?”

“It’s probably my client checking up on me. They’re not known for patience.”

“Be careful, Pri. And get a million more firewalls.”

“I already increased the security on my laptop and my cloud files. Whoever tried to hack me won’t get in again. And by the end of the week, I’ll be rid of Freddo, and my client will be satisfied.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Silvio said, followed by the clink of glass on a table.

“I won’t,” I drawled, glaring at a pedestrian that ran into the road. Fucking jaywalkers. “That reminds me! Guess what Freddo gave me last night.”

“An STD?”

“A glass of wine. And when I said no, he was like c’mon babe, you need to loosen up, you’re always so tense. I felt like poking his eyes out and saying I’m Muslim, you limp, clap-infested dick.”

Silvio groaned. “That man is too stupid to live. Mr. Marmalade says hi by the way.”

I ignored that. The cat and I had met one time; we were hardly friends. “One more week.”

One week, and I’d have the information I’d waited years for.

One week, and I’d have closure.