Page 21 of House of Cards (The Devil’s Den #2)

My jaw clenches painfully tight, yet somehow I mutter a reluctant, “Yes.”

“Of course she did. They always do.” The scar on his lip makes his smile smug, and this time I’m not entirely sure it’s just happenstance. “Now stop whining. It’ll take five minutes to upload the video and type out a caption. Someone’ll pay for it.”

My mind scrambles as I try to figure out a way to prevent them airing the video.

“For a two minute video of a caning? Please.”

“First you tell one of our regulars to fuck off, now you’re being precious with your footage?” Myles says, eyes narrowing.

My heart gives a hard thump inside my chest.

What happened this morning wasn’t just unusual. It’s the first time I’ve ever intervened during a scene.

Rich whistles through the gap in his front teeth. “The fuck’s wrong with you, Smith?”

“Our boy’s just stressed,” Myles directs the words to Richmond without breaking eye contact with me.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Myles perches on the edge of the desk, tilting his head as he studies me. “Mm. Richmond? Think you should take over the Angels for a bit.”

“I said I’m fine,” I snap.

“Sounds like you’re spread too thin,” Richmond says. “Aren’t you working on that financial thingy?”

“Quarterly compliance review,” I mutter.

“Stop glaring at him like that.” For once, Myles isn’t smiling. “We’re doing you a fucking favor. This’ll give you all the time you need to finish up your…things. In fact?—”

He slips off the desk and heads for one of the paintings against the wall beside his desk.

I stifle a sigh, choosing to clean my glasses so I don’t have to look at Richmond’s smug fucking face. “This isn’t necessary,” I mutter. “I only need a couple more days to finish the review.”

Myles comes back with my ledgers, thumping them down on the desk so hard that his ashtray clatters and Lulu lets out a little yip of surprise.

“Here you go. Tit for tat.”

I stare at Myles. “I don’t follow.”

“Send the new girl in, and you get to take these boring things back to your room and do whatever you want to them. Hardcore subtraction. Carrying the one like a freak. Who the fuck knows?”

“Or cares,” Richmond murmurs into his glass.

“Well? Go on.” Myles rubs his hands together, grinning. “I’ve been Googling some new stuff I want to try.”

My entire body goes cold, my arms stiff as I ram my glasses back on my nose.

“No.”

Myles’s eyebrow twitches. “Beg your motherfucking pardon?”

He has a reason to sound surprised. No one ever says no to Myles Balmont.

I force a hard swallow. “She’s…recovering.”

“From a little caning? Bless your heart.” Myles laughs as he glances at Richmond. “Hear this? Smith says we gotta take it easy on the girl.”

“Don’t worry, her backside is safe,” Rich says, leaning back to take a baggie of coke out of his jeans. “Nothing better than watching a girl tearing up when you hit the back of her throat.”

“Ooh!” Myles taps Rich’s shoulder with the back of his hand, eyes lighting up. “It’s been a while since we’ve done an Eiffel Tower. Could take turns at both ends, see which one of us makes her gag first.”

“Bet you fifty grand I can make her puke before you do,” Rich says, grinning as he taps out a small heap of white powder on the crook of his thumb.

“Make it a hundred,” Myles counters. “And we film it for the premium members. Nothing sells better than a pretty girl choking on cock with mascara running down her cheeks.”

Rich nods, head bowing over the crook of his thumb where he tapped out a small heap of white powder.

“No fucking spit roasts.” As soon as I grate out those words, I want to claw them back.

Myles was about to take a sip from his tumbler, but instead, he drops his cigar into it and pushes it away.

He stands, tugging at the bottom of his yellow-and-blue checked plaid coat as he slowly makes his way around his desk.

I have at least six inches on him, but I might as well have been on my knees for the way he studies me.

“Since when can’t we fuck an Angel?”

“We can charge more if she’s not—“ there’s the slightest hitch in my voice that makes Richmond flash a frown in my direction, “—worn out.”

Myles chuckles. “Jaysus, you make it sound like we’re gonna strap her down in the cigar lounge.”

“Not a bad idea. Free use is trending right now,” Rich says, dead serious.

“She’s a mess. She needs?—“

“Whose fault is that?” Myles says, but I carry on speaking right over him.

“—rest.”

Rich sniffs loudly, the only sound in an otherwise frozen silence. “You gonna rub her feet and feed her grapes?” he asks, a cruel laugh in his voice as he thumbs his nose.

I stand just a little taller. Clench my fists just a little tighter.

“She’s. Not. Ready.”

Rich’s smirk deepens as he leans his head to the side, daring me to respond with words or violence. I’ve done both in the past but tonight, I’m saving my energy.

Going toe-to-toe with an ex-MMA fighter whose aggression got him disqualified before he could hit pro won’t end well. For him.

“She’s not, or you’re not?” Myles claps a hand on my shoulder, generous with his smile as he says, “We’ve all seen this movie before, old chap.” He taps his temple. “None of us liked the first one. What makes you think we’re shelling out for the sequel?”

Christ, he just called me old chap.

“Myles—”

“No. No,” he cuts in smoothly, warmly, patting me right on the spot where Zoey stabbed me. “ My fault. I ride you boys too hard. All the killing, the racketeering, the pimping. Adds up. Tell you what…” Another pat, this one firmer than the last. “Soon as you’ve wrapped up that finance report?—”

“Compliance review,” Richmond corrects, sniffing as he thumbs his nose.

“—compliance review, you take yourself a nice long holiday. Somewhere warm. Or cold. Whatever wanks your willy.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear my teeth grinding. “I don’t need a fucking vaca?—”

“Oh, I insist .” Myles’s grip tightens as he leans in close, his voice dropping to a friendly whisper. “You have one day, Smith. Sort your shit out, or I’ll sort it out for you.”

“A week,” I counter, maintaining eye contact.

Myles’s smile tightens. “Seventy-two hours. Not a minute more.” He pats my cheek twice, hard enough to sting.

Christ.

I rub a hand over my face, attempting to scrub another traitorous memory from my mind before it takes root.

He’s already decided I’m going to fuck this up. That’s what pisses me off the most. Not the threats, not the condescension, but the fact that he’s right .

One bad choice. One mistake. A fuck-up that nearly brought this whole thing down. And it’s still hanging around my neck like a goddamn noose.

I don’t need a fucking vacation.

I need to prove to Myles, to Richmond…to myself that history isn’t about to repeat itself.

And the best way to do that is to leave Zoey the hell alone and let her repay her debt as I’d intended. But I don’t trust the rest of the Balmont Boys to leave her alone. Angels come and go, but there’s always a fuss when we get a new one on board. Everyone wants to see how far they can push her.

How pretty she sounds when she screams.

And there’s fuck all I can do about it without Myles sending me off to the country like I’ve had a nervous breakdown.

Christ, I’m getting a headache again.

I slip my hand in my pocket, taking out the two painkillers Eddie had given me the first time I took Zoey to the Angels’s quarters. I’m about to dry swallow the pills, but hesitate, staring at them as I trace my fingers over the spot where Zoey stuck me with a fork.

Well, there’s one thing I can do about it.