The King - S.R. Jones Page 0,79

Liza eat it before I blow both their brains out.

I realize I’ve tuned Cassie out in my bloodlust fantasy, but her next words make me see red.

“That’s when Denis hit me with his gun. I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t transfer the money, so he hit me with the gun, and he said … he said. He threatened to…”

“What? You can tell me; it’s okay.”

“He said he’d rape me, and Liza … she just laughed. He pulled my hair, he hit me with the gun, and he said he’d fuck me in the ass. Those were his words. I think he meant it; he was beside himself, scared. Liza was goading him on. So I did it. I’m sorry. I know I’ve fucked up so bad. Twice now. More than twice. I transferred the money he demanded.”

“How much?” My voice is a whisper, but it’s one of pure, incandescent rage.

“Three million.”

Three million pounds. Those two fuckers took three million pounds from me?

But it’s not that which has me so angry I could explode with the power of a fucking nuclear bomb. No, it’s the fact that Denis hit Cassie hard enough to give her what is going to be a very nasty bruise. He also pulled her hair, and he threatened to sodomize her, and Liza, that disgusting bitch, egged him on. I’m going to hunt them down and punish them with biblical vengeance.

“Are you going to kill me?” She looks at me, her gaze so damn forlorn, her sun almost eclipsed.

“What? No, no. Why would you think that?”

“Because I’ve caused you so much trouble.”

I sigh. “With Popov, you caused me trouble. With this? You didn’t do anything.”

“I gave them your money.”

“I don’t give a damn about the money,” I say truthfully.

“It’s so much. So much. Have I … has it bankrupted you?” More tears form in her eyes, and I swear I never want to see this gorgeous woman cry again.

Then her words sink in, and I start to laugh. I can’t help it.

“What’s so funny?” she says. As I laugh some more, she starts to smile through her unshed tears.

“Bankrupt me? Three million?”

“Yes, I mean, it’s an awful lot of money.”

“Cassie, it’s mere change to me.”

Her smile falters, and she pales some more. “Are you being serious right now, or are you fucking with me?”

“I’m being deadly serious. It’s nothing. A drop in the ocean.”

“My God,” she breathes.

“You did good. Thank you for telling me everything, and I’m sorry one of my men hurt you. That’s on me.”

“It’s not on you.” She looks at me, and her soft, pretty eyes are so damn beautiful I can’t look away.

I brush the hair back from her face and look at her jaw again, running my finger along the bruise that’s forming. “Does it hurt?” I ask softly.

“Yeah, some.”

Not knowing what possesses me, knowing I shouldn’t do this, I lean in and place a softer than soft kiss on the skin where it’s red and purple.

She closes her eyes, sighs, and leans into my touch.

There’s so much betrayal between us. She lied to me about her ability. I made her do something by using her grandfather’s illness against her, when I could have afforded to pay for his treatment, and it would have been like buying a Starbuck’s to me. She’ll figure it out one day, and she’ll hate me, but right now, we’re taking comfort in one another’s touch.

I pull back, just an inch or two, and look at her. Her gaze is open, and her lips are slightly parted. Those full, luscious lips that I’ve fantasized about since the first moment I saw her serving coffee are open like a flower. This woman has been put in my path repeatedly, and it must mean something. Or so I tell myself in this moment.

I lower my mouth to hers and taste what I’ve been coveting for so damn long.

She’s warm, soft, and her mouth tastes of brandy and salt from her tears. It’s an odd combination, but it’s heady.

I deepen the kiss, pressing my lips against hers a little harder, and it’s like kissing a cloud, her lips are so soft. She sighs and makes a tiny whimper at the back of her throat, which only makes me yearn for more. I want to take her to the floor and sink into her. I don’t want to just fuck her. I want to take her apart and annihilate anyone who came before me.

Instead, I wrestle the last bit of my

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