Page 17

It had been almost twenty-four hours since we had sex, and this entire time, Scarlett had been on my mind, living rent-free. Her moans still echoed in my head, and the taste of her juice still lingered on my tongue.

Every now and then, I would find myself reminiscing about that night, about the way she surrendered to her desire. The fact that Scarlett submitted to me—granted me access between her legs—still amazed me. Of course, I knew she was bound to fall at some point, but I didn’t think that it would have so much effect on me.

Feeling her body on me, her lips on mine, and her moans in my ears stirred up a strange emotion within me, one that I couldn’t name. Her smooth skin, her soft breasts, her enticing lips, and her juicy pussy seemed to have me enthralled. It felt like I was hexed because now I couldn’t get her out of my mind.

I wanted more. More of that juice. More of her.

Scarlett was beautiful—clean and perfect in every way. My ideal woman. Now that I’d had a taste of her, there was no way in hell that I’d ever let her slip through my fingers. No way.

She was mine and mine alone. The thought of another’s hands on her skin infuriated me. She was not to be touched by anyone but me. I didn’t give a shit who she’d been with before me; I most definitely didn’t give a shit about Liam. All of that was in the past. I was her future. Hence, no one was allowed to lay a finger on her.

I’d never been the type to love sharing what was mine, and I wasn’t going to start now. Scarlett had a seal of “touch not” on her forehead, a seal stamped by me, and I’d do the unthinkable to keep it that way. All of a sudden, no one else was deserving of her, no one but me.

The sex last night changed everything, and I could feel my perception of her gradually shifting. She wasn’t just a plaything to me anymore; she was more than that. I hadn’t found the right words to describe how she made me feel, but I was certain that it was something good.

Scarlett had been avoiding me all day, and I knew why. She felt guilty. She blamed herself for letting me between her legs, even though, deep down, I knew that she loved it just as much as I did. Considering the circumstances, her guilt was understandable—justified. But it wouldn’t change anything.

Last night only presented an opportunity for both of us to act upon our desires, and we did. Scarlett gave in to the temptation because she had already thought about it in her head, maybe multiple times.

She hadn’t been able to look me in the eyes ever since, and even when she did, she’d flash a glare at me. I wasn’t at all moved by her guilt; it was nothing but a pesky little emotion that would, in time, fade away. She’d get used to it, especially when she realized that she’d been mine since the day she stepped foot into this house.

It would take a while for her to adjust, and luckily for both of us, patience was something that I had in abundance. I’d wait because one thing was certain: In the end, she’d want me again. Scarlett would come back for more.

She stood at the edge of the balcony, the morning sun casting a warm glow across her features as her gaze swept across the cityscape. Her slender fingers wrapped around the polished handrails, her grip relaxed yet possessive. The gentle breeze seemed to whisper secrets in her ears, and her dress, a flowing silk gown, billowed behind her like a cloud. The hem fluttered, dancing to the rhythm of the wind, the delicate fabric rippling like the surface of a serene lake.

Scarlett stood there, lost in thought, her gaze fixed across the horizon. As distracted as she was, she looked breathtaking, divine, and elegant in every way. Her hair swirled around her face, tousled by the gentle breeze, and her skin simmered in the sunlight.

I joined her at the balcony’s edge, my arms wrapping around her waist from behind. She flinched at the sudden embrace, her body tensing as she lifted her head, her slender neck turning in my direction. I expected some sort of resistance, but she just stared at me blankly.

“I thought we talked about your fear,” I whispered, referring to her startled reaction, my breath against her ear.

“And I thought we talked about your sneakiness,” she replied, her tone laced with a glint of displeasure as her eyebrows knit together.

My hand caressed hips, palms sliding down the fabric of her dress. She smelled really good, and I sniffed her skin, taking in the sweet scent of her feminine perfume. “Still thinking about last night, I guess,” I teased, murmuring in her ear.

She scoffed, squirming out of my hold, and turned to face me squarely, her eyes burning with a mix of longing and disdain. “I hate you,” she blurted out, her face twisting into a scowl. “I hate you, Daniel Tarasov.”

Unfazed by her words, my lips curled into a mischievous grin, and I stroked my jaw, my gaze locked on hers. “Are you sure about that?” My eyes darted up and down her body. “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

Her eyes squinted at my statement, a hint of embarrassment flashing across her features. Her jaw tightened, and her brows furrowed, forming deep creases between them. “Asshole,” she murmured, shoving me aside. Her footsteps were hasty as she walked away.

I chuckled as I watched her leave, cursing me under her breath, her bare feet making no sound against the marble floor. I buried a hand in my pocket, satisfied that I’d once again won another round. It was interesting watching her fight something she had no power over. Scarlett was only delaying the inevitable. She was mine already, and the sooner she understood that as a well-established fact, the better.

However, in the meantime, I’d wait because I knew for sure that she’d definitely come around. Scarlett couldn’t fight this for so long. She was bound to give in and accept her fate, one way or another.

***

Later that evening, at sunset, I was in my study, ensconced in a worn leather armchair, surrounded by towering bookshelves that stretched toward the ceiling. The opulent space, enveloped by the soft glow of a chandelier, was a sanctuary of masculinity, adorned with dark wood paneling and a fireplace that crackled on cool evenings.

My laptop sat open on the mahogany table before me, the lit screen flickering as my fingers rattled across the keyboard. The air was filled with the faint scent of aged paper and whiskey, a heady combination that seemed to seep from the very walls themselves. A half-empty glass of amber liquid sat on the mahogany table beside a towering bottle of whiskey.

The soft knock on the door shifted my gaze toward the entrance, and there she was, my wife, staring at me with an unreadable expression.

My lips twitched at the corners, and I reclined in my armchair, watching her step inside without my permission. “Have you come to apologize for your rude behavior earlier?” I teased, knowing that was the last thing she’d ever do.

Her eyes narrowed, brows furrowing as she halted before my desk. “Apologize?” She scoffed, a disbelieving look flashing across her face. “I thought by now you’d know better than to assume something like that.”

There it is, I thought, referring to the fire I saw burning in her eyes.

“I’m here to address the elephant in the room,” she said, her voice stern, her gaze pinned on me. “I think it’s high time we had a conversation about why I’m here and why you’re doing this to my family.” She drew closer, her eyes narrowing on me. “I demand to know what the fuck is going on, Daniel,” she concluded, leaving no room for compromise.

My brows arched, intrigued by her spunk and confidence.

“What is your problem with my family? What is your problem with me? Because prior to the day you kidnapped me, I had no idea you even existed.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, her eyes shining with determination to know the truth. “This is some sort of revenge strategy, right? I believe I’m entitled to knowing what this is all about, considering I’m the one paying the fucking price.” Her voice rose a little higher on the last statement, a frown settling on her face.

“You might wanna take a seat,” I said, staying calm and composed.

“I’ll stand,” she insisted.

“Suit yourself,” came my reply, fingers drumming on the surface of my table. “You’re right. This is a revenge strategy,” I began, my tone low and even, my words spoken with a deliberate slowness. “Your ex-fiancé tricked, exploited, used, and dumped my younger cousin, Alina.”

Her brows shot up, arms folded across her chest. “Liam? That doesn’t sound like him.”

“So, you’re unaware of what he did to that poor girl?” I asked, my expression darkening for a moment, waiting for her response.

Her breath hitched, her mouth shaped like an “O” as she groped for the right words to say. Scarlett’s shoulders shrugged casually, her tone dropping ever so slightly. “Well…I…I did…I did hear of such allegations, but that’s not true…. That’s not who Liam is. He’d never do that,” she stuttered, a hint of skepticism creeping into her tone.

“He’d never do that?” I asked, disappointed by the way she defended him. “Damn, you’re just as naive as you’re pretty.”

“I’m just being realistic,” she said, steeling herself for my response.

“Realistic?” I chuckled dismissively, struggling to suppress the rage swelling within me. “The reality here, Scarlett, is that your precious Liam Callahan is nothing but a dirty little pervert.”

“No.” She shook her head in denial. “You’re wrong. There has to be a mistake somewhere.”

I had to admit that watching her stand up for that son of a bitch only fueled my anger. She was blinded by whatever she felt for that man, and she couldn’t see what was right in front of her.

Scarlett cocked her head to the side, her suspicious gaze locked on mine. “Wait a minute. You’re framing him, aren’t you?”

This was the most ridiculous thing I’d heard all year, and it prompted a smirk to my lips.

“That’s it. You’re trying to paint him as the bad guy here so you can validate the absurdity of your revenge,” she added, her voice rising as though she’d found the missing piece of this little puzzle. “You want me to see you as the victim here, but you and I both know that you’re not.”

I leaned forward, elbows on the table, with a fluid motion. “You’re right. I’m not,” I said, locking eyes with her. “But you know who is? My cousin, Alina.”

Scarlett went silent for a moment, her throat wobbling as she swallowed.

“By the time Liam was done with her, she was so heartbroken that she almost took her own life.” I opened the drawer, withdrew a file, and tossed it over to her side of the table.

“What’s this?” She picked it up.

“Proof that will show you just how naive you’ve been this entire time,” I said, rising to my feet. I watched her skim through the pages, her eyes widening slightly after each flip.

Her breath caught in her throat as she read through the incriminating evidence, including photos that put her precious Liam at the heart of the crime. Her eyes misted, and her lips began to quiver.

“The truth sucks, doesn’t it?” I asked, standing by my floor-to-ceiling window, a hand in my pocket. “You see, Scarlett, people aren’t always who they seem on the outside. You judge me because you think I’m a bad man. I am.” I paused, watching her fidget, flipping through the document with shaky hands. “But in this world, it’s not the likes of me that you should worry about. We’re evil, and everyone knows we are.”

She raised her head, her expression softening with unshed tears in her eyes.

“It’s the ‘good guys’ you should worry about.” I air-quoted the phrase. “They’re the snakes who slither their way into people’s hearts, gaining their trust while killing them slowly. They’re the true definition of wolves in sheep’s clothing.” I paused, letting my words sink in for a moment before continuing. “Do you know the worst part about these guys? You don’t get to know who they really are until it’s too late. But then you can’t get out because you’re trapped—or in your case…married.”

She swallowed hard as though my words had opened her eyes to this harsh reality.

“You should be thanking me; I helped you dodge a bullet…. I saved you from making the biggest mistake of your life.” The slight pause came when I strolled over to her.

She clenched her jaw, fighting back the tears that welled her eyes. “And…and my father?” she stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “How’s he involved in this?”

I halted in front of her, my eyes fixed on her sad face. “Your father knew what Liam did to my cousin, and as head of the Irish Mafia, he was supposed to administer the appropriate punishment.” I click my tongue, my tone contemptuous. “But what did he do instead? Sean O’Sullivan rewarded Liam Callahan by giving him his daughter to marry.”

Her breath became heavy, her chest rising and falling as a mix of emotions flashed across her face.

“Not the Callahans, not the O’Sullivans. Nobody reached out to apologize for Liam’s behavior. Not a single soul, and you think that I would sit back and watch you all live happily ever after?” I let out a dismissive laugh. “Liam is lucky that he’s still alive. Although I can’t guarantee for how long.”

Scarlett was still processing this revelation. Her eyes were misted, and her lips trembled as she looked down at the document in her hand. She was confused, unsure of what to believe, but I wasn’t going to make further attempts to explain the situation. The truth was the truth, and I’d rather let her deal with it however she deemed fit.