Page 57 of Cruel Pleasures

She’s never had any real relationships. No real meaningful bonds with men… or anyone else for that matter.

Any friends are casual, much like the revolving door of men. Except for one.

Lyra Hendrix, the quirky and unstable pianist she calls her best friend. The girl Kaden Raskova became obsessed with, then disappeared with.

Imani hasn’t assumed the identity of Sasha Newton for no reason. She foolishly believes it’ll bring her answers to her best friend’s whereabouts. She refuses to let go of the one person who cared about her.

When she approaches on the sandy beach, curiosity filling her brown eyes, I greet her with contempt. Flashes of last night’s indiscretions are all too fresh.

I can still hear her pants. See her supple thighs curled around his waist and her large breasts bouncing, barely contained by her bra.

I want to punish her. Inflict pain. Make her cry and beg and regret what she’s done.

It would be more than deserved. But as I stalk toward her and her eyes widen with fear, I’m thrown off once again.

For a second time in twenty-four hours, my armor’s penetrated. The woman before me manages to evoke something out of me. All without realizing she has.

My chest tightens and more heat warms my blood. I can’t be around her when all discipline has been lost.

There’s no telling what I’ll do. Dark impulses I’ve kept contained will spiral free like they had last night. I look her up and down and secretly savor how the fear drips from her.

I may be as affected as she is—albeit, in an entirely different way—but I seize the opportunity to flip the moment on her. Make it so that she’s none the wiser to her effect on me. At a time where she’s paranoid about the company she’s found herself in, it’s no challenge spooking her.

“You won’t give up anytime soon.” I set off at a slow pace around her. “Yes, I see it all over you. You’ve got it in that stubborn little head of yours.”

“W-what?” she stutters. Her wide-eyed gaze tries to follow me, though I’m too fast for her.

“You convinced yourself you can do it. And nothing will change that.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’ll be entertaining. But if you had any common sense about you, you’d see what’s staring you in the face.”

“And that would be—hey, get back here!”

I’ve started walking off, my hands plunged deep into the pockets of my long overcoat. I stride across the grounds and then slip through the arched exterior passageway leading into the west wing of the manor. I lost her some time ago, once she’d given up on the beach’s sandy slope.

For the best that she has. She knows nothing of the kind of horror I could bring into her life if I really wanted to. If the Hostess has her way, I’ll soon inflict it on her regardless. I agreed to this undertaking, and I will deliver.

“There you are. You’ve been avoiding me.”

The soft hiss comes from behind. I turn around in time to watch the Hostess descend the staircase off to the left. Poised in another dress that reaches the ground and a mask that has more bright accent marks painted around the eyes, she approaches a slow step at a time.

“Perfect timing,” I say. “I had wondered when you’d next show up.”

“I wouldn’t have to if the wardens I hired were competent. Are you out gallivanting around the premises when you’ve been given a specific task?” The heels she wears click against the tiles once she steps off the staircase and crosses the floor toward me. She stops close enough that I’m peering into the gaping holes of her mask.

A pitch-black abyss with no end in sight.

My teeth grit moodily. “What is it exactly that has caused you to believe I have no competence?”

“You were supposed to have her under control. Instead she’s quite intact.”

“Define intact.”

“Freely roaming. Fun and games at the live shows. Without a care in the world. We need her frightened. We need her paranoid out of her mind if the plan is to work.”

“That would be Hurst’s doing. You know him, don’t you? Archer Hurst, the man you’ve claimed wouldn’t get the job done?—”