Page 77 of Massacre Monday

“No, Pen. I did this so you’d be appointed to me. I played their game,killed for them, so I could claim you as my reward. They wanted proof of my obedience. So I gave them a body. And in return, I askedfor you. Because I’m in love with you. I pinned you. And now you’re mine.”

Gathering her into an embrace, I fuse my lips over her gaping mouth as she sucks in a breath of shock. Her arms pull away from me and she takes a few steps back, then snatches her dress off the floor, holding it to her chest like armor. “You— We-we’reappointed? Since when?”

“Since I got rid of Senator Frances’s wife like they ordered me to. Then turned over the evidence of his pedo ways to the president. But I didn’t stop there. To protect my sister and my family, I got rid of him, too. I made a deal with your father—a merger. And I asked for you. Your hand. Your blood. Your future. My reward.”

Stepping closer to her, I swallow hard, trying to control my voice. “But the truth is…I never needed a reward. I would have ruined myself to be with you anyway. I wanted to give you a life you deserve. To have your freedom with me. You asked me when we wereactuallyappointed? It was the first second I saw you, Pen. I’ve been in love with you since then. And every fucking thing I’ve done was for you.”

Stunned, she blinks slowly, her gaze far away. “My father didn’t say anything.”

“I asked him not to until I could woo you.”

She huffs an adorable laugh as her eyes meet mine again. “You have afucked-up sense of woo, Ryan Cardell.”

I smile, as it seems her chill is melting. “You like it, P.I.C.”

Her entire body shivers, so I grab her dress and help her into it, then pull the blanket off from the end of the bed and throw that over her too, wrapping her in it like a burrito. As I haul her up into my arms, she actually lets me take her.

“W-where a-are we going?” Teeth chattering terribly, she can barely get the words out.

“To our place.”

twenty-seven

Ryan carries me,carefully bundled up in a blanket, back outside. I’m not as sore as I thought I would be. In fact, I rather enjoyed sex with myappointed.

The revelation of my new Viscount has left me in a state of shock. He told me he loves me. I’mpinned. I’mhis…It’s a lot to take in. My brain hasn’t latched onto one thought, and I’m unsure how to process everything.

Did he really do all of that to get me?

It makes his trackers and cameras seem almost, hmm, endearing?

Have I lost my mind?

In the manor’s garage, the valets have parked a line of luxury sports cars and motorcycles in neat rows. Ryan sets me on my feet and grabs a full shield helmet from the wall, plopping it on my head. It smells like his hair, warm and cozy.

“It’s going to be cold as fuck, so tuck my coat around you,” he says, draping his wet tuxedo jacket over my body as I toss the comforter on the hood of a Maserati.

He points out a custom-painted Ducati and slides a leg over, then pats the back seat. Once I get on, I slip my arms around his taut waist and grip him tight as he speeds off.

With a laugh, he pops a little wheelie on the way down the long drive, and I scream, then slap his back.

The wind and rain stab my visible skin harshly as we speed through the dark night. My body shivers so violently, I’m worried I’ll make him wreck, but he maintains perfect control the entire ride.

It doesn’t take long before we pull up to a large metal warehouse near the riverbank. There’s nothing nearby, except a monolith black RV that looks like a tour bus. Light spills from the inside, but the windows are tinted so dark it’s impossible to see a thing.

Ryan parks beside it, engine growling low before he kills the ignition. Without a word, he swings off the bike, water dripping from his soaked tux like it’s no big deal. He looks half-drowned. But he’s grinning like the damn sun’s out.

He pulls my helmet off gently, fingertips grazing my chin as he does. “You alive, pink cheeks?”

I nod, and he helps me down, tucks the helmet under one arm, and then tucks me under the other—like I’m the thing he’s been trying to protect this whole time.

The door opens as we approach the entrance and a man wearing a suit and driver’s cap welcomes us in with a smile and wave of his hand. He’s the same one who was in the limo during our first date.

“Victor,” Ryan says in greeting, then leads me up a small set of stairs into a luxurious interior.

Marble floors, white leather reclining sofas and chairs surrounding the middle, divided from a full kitchen by a bar cabinet and an electric fireplace that’s already blazing. As we enter the living room, Victor closes a curtain behind us, offeringmore privacy, and the engine roars to life. We start moving as Ryan slips his wet coat off my shoulders.

“Come back here,” he says, snatching my hand and leading me toward the hall.