it wouldn’t do much for me.
I’d been wrong.
Calling him Daddy did a lot for me.
The more I said it, the more I liked it. I was still a little flustered and a lot awkward, but I’d get more comfortable.
Especially if saying it meant I got to see the look of fiery lust and warm affection he was giving me.
He kissed me again before heading for the door. Stopping when he reached it, he looked over his shoulder. “Make sure you eat, Juliet. And keep this door open from now on.”
Before I could ask why, he was gone.
I shrugged and went back to finding fabric.
A few minutes later, Marco came in carrying a full tray service. There was a ham sandwich, a small salad, a bowl of fruit, and two Diet Cokes.
Two.
Seems it’s my lucky day for various reasons.
“Thanks,” I said, cracking right into one of those bad boys.
I watched Marco’s face carefully, searching for any sign he was judging or disgusted or any of the other bad things I worried people would feel.
He looked stoic and bored—business as usual.
“Shout if you need anything.” When he walked from the room, he started closing the door behind him before stopping and opening it fully.
Apparently, Maximo shared his new door policy.
Running to my room, I grabbed my iPad and headphones before returning to my sandwich. As I dug in, I brought up Google and did a search.
Nebula Vegas NV
Unsurprisingly, the screen loaded to tell me to contact the network admin. I was pretty sure Cole handled all the tech in the house, and I wasn’t asking him to help me snoop on his boss.
Exiting out of the browser, I put on music as I finished eating. Once I was done, I laid out the fabric I’d chosen and started measuring it. It took much longer than usual because I kept glancing at the open door.
There was no one there, but I worried someone would walk by just as I was making some huge mistake. Or as I was dancing and lip-syncing—something I did often.
With a sigh, I went and closed the door.
He’s not even home.
What’s the worst that could happen?
Maximo
Walking through the isolated building, my anticipation grew with each step I took.
Ordinarily when someone crossed me, I brought them to the basement of Moonlight. But Jack Murphy hadn’t crossed me.
He’d hurt Juliet.
Which meant I didn’t need a secure room with a private exit to a waiting vehicle. I needed the industrial tools, cleaning system, and disposal unit of a former meat-processing plant.
It was going to get messy.
And I couldn’t fucking wait.
Opening another door slowly so it would creak and groan, I stepped in and let the slam echo around the room. Ash sat silently in a chair, but my gaze went to where Jack Murphy hung from a meat hook, his pale torso bare.
“Who’s there?” His words were slurred with the residual effects of Ash’s drugs. He moved his head back and forth as if he could see past the blindfold.
Lifting my chin at Ash, I leaned against the wall and pulled out my phone. I scrolled through emails and my calendar, patient to wait until the drugs were out of Murphy’s system. Otherwise, they’d diminish the pain. He didn’t deserve that.
Plus, anticipation was half the fun.
Every time Murphy sank back into a stupor, Ash or I would make a noise to set him off again. It was another hour before his voice was normal, no hint of impairment. Completely alert, his movements grew frantic as he worked to escape the bindings.
It wouldn’t happen—Ash was an expert.
It also wouldn’t happen because he would be in too much pain.
“Jack Murphy,” I said, pocketing my phone. “Lowlife, scumbag-for-hire, crony.” I glanced at Ash. “Am I missing anything?”
“Gemini,” he added. “Oh, and woman beater—professionally and personally.”
“What the fuck is this, some jacked version of This Is Your Life?” Murphy croaked. “Untie me or else—”
I tugged off his blindfold and whatever blustered threat he was about to spew died abruptly when he saw me. “Fuck.”
In the face of his panic, my lips tipped but I didn’t speak.
The longer the silence stretched, thickening the tension in the room, the more agitated Murphy became. “Why the hell am I here?”
“Do you like beating women, Murphy?”
“I don’t know what—”
“Are you too much of a pussy to take on men so you go after their daughters?”
“Fuck you, asshole.”
Circling his hanging body, I slid on gloves and an apron before grabbing a small knife from the set that hung on the wall.