There’s no doubt that the girl he’s talking about is Lavinia.
But if he thinks I’ll cry, then he doesn’t know me at all.
It’s what makes me lash out, jaw locking. “Now that you mention it, I do remember you. I remember having to force myself not to vomit up my dinner at the sight of you, jacking off like a sweaty, hairy lump of meat.” I approach him, calculating how fast I can duck beneath his arm and call out for Killian. “I remember your ugly dick and your uglier face. I never forget sick, pathetic, disgusting old men.”
His arm thrusts out faster than I’m expecting, palm slamming into my chest. It knocks me back into the closet, and then he’s kicking the door shut, bearing down on me with a snarl. “You want to see ugly, little girl? I never forget, either.” His nostrils flare, a wild look taking over his eyes. “Four long years. That’s how long I’ve waited to get what was owed to me.” He reaches down, jerkily unbuckling his belt. “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it’ll do, don’t you think?”
“You’re crazy.” My heart pounds in my chest, but the flurry of thought rushing through my head is too chaotic to slow. Am I right? Is this flustered, angry man towering above me, Ted? Was it Saul all along? Is this the bastard who stalked me, sent me pictures, killed my friend? Did he send Ugly Nick after Killian? Carve those initials into Vivienne after slitting her throat? “You’re fucking insane,” I realize, everything coming together.
“That’s what happens when some little bitch makes your balls blue for four years.” The sound of his zipper—the jangle of his belt buckle slapping against his thigh—is shockingly loud in the oppressive silence of the closet, but there’s no space in here. No room to move away. No way past him to the door. He’s close, so close. Frozen, I keep my eyes on his face and clutch my purse against my stomach like a pathetic shield, but he just tucks his pants below his balls, exposing his half hard cock to me. “I know you let them defile your mouth and pussy, but what about your ass? I bet you haven’t let them fuck you there yet. You were always such a tease.”
My instinct is to fight back, but he’s a tall man and I’m in these fucking heels, and even in the best of circumstances, I’m no athlete. I need to use my brain. I need to buy some time. I need some goddamn space.
I don’t get any.
What I get are his rough hands suddenly grabbing at my shoulders, trying to spin me around. A wave of fury swells in my chest—that rush of red-hot instinct to fight for survival—and that’s exactly what I do.
I fight.
I kick out, thrash around, open my mouth and belt out a scream. He’s a solid wall against me, but I strike out anyway. Fists. Elbows. Knees. He grunts in his effort to contain me, face contorting with rage.
He reaches back before swinging. His enormous palm contacts with my cheek and the slap rocks me. My head snaps to the side. Pain explodes up my cheek, throughout my skull, and I have to be still then, bringing my arms up to cover my head.
It gives him the opening he needs to twist me around, his hand clamping hard onto the back of my neck. As I blink away the stars in my vision, he’s shoving my face down into the shelf of coats and rucking up my dress.
“Like I was saying,” he growls, fingers aggressive as they dig into my hips. He doesn’t even sound winded. “I don’t mind a little fighting. You think I’m ugly now? You should have seen me in my day, Lady.” He sneers the title, and I fumble for my purse, thinking that I just need a few seconds. A minute at most. “I was the hot shit around here. You would have been on your hands and knees for my dick back then.”
I stop fighting, forcing my limbs to go limp as I catch my breath. The crack in my voice is only half-faked as I whimper, “Okay, okay, I’ll let you—”
“Let me?” He barks a laugh, ripping my thong to the side.
“Just don’t leave a mark,” I plead, planting my feet wide. “They’ll punish me if they know. And if Killian gets through that door, he’ll kill us both.”
There’s a brief pause, and then his derisive snort. “I knew you’d cave. You’re nothing but a dirty whore, just like your mother.” There’s a sickening sound—him spitting a wad of saliva into the palm of his hand. Sick dread fills my belly as I know he’s prepping himself, the wet sound of him slicking up his stubby cock filling the surrounding air. “You know I found her first? Fucked her after the bowl game, almost six years ago. Her phone rang and this picture of a sweet little girl’s face came up. Your face. I knew right then you were meant to be our new pet.” He leans into me, breath hot against my neck. “All the other Kings are married, but Daniel…well, he had himself a bit of a domestic vacancy. So I had to give the two of you up to him.” My hands shake and I take the chance to dip my fingers in the open zipper of my purse. “It wasn’t really a surprise when you showed up on the Daddy sites. Like mother, like daughter.” His fingers graze over the bare swell of my backside and nausea mixes with my rage. “He was supposed to get you ready for us, but then you left, and look what you became? Just another predictable whore. Four years, Sweet Cherry. I’ve thought about this for four years, and if you think I’m not going to make it hurt, you’re very, very wrong.”