Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Heh, allow me to be honest, Burt the Butler.”
He grouses a beat before collecting himself.
“I expect Luxury to fall at her feet for me like any other woman until I’ve had my fill of her. Then I’ll complete my mission and put a bullet or two in her father.” As I speak the truth, I detest what I already knew. One morning enthralled by Luxury’s soft curves and a trillion flecks of cinnamon-colored diamonds won’t make a saint out of me.
I’m the fucking monster who siphoned some of the pain she held in as she spoke of her mother.
I want more.
Her pain.
“But she’s different, Victor.”
“True.”
“Here’s another rhetorical. Have the other women always fallen at your feet?”
There was one who refused me until her last breath. My best course of action is to leave Luxury alone, murder her father, and return to my life. Still, for the first time, I’m a rage of vacillation.
Luxury’s daily life is ingrained in my mind. Monday settles in like clockwork, she visits Dr. Whitson at Greco Technologies, followed by heading off the afternoon crowd at her flower shop.
On Tuesday morning, I stalk her as she walks.
She never looks back. It’s bloody infuriating.
I’m at square one.
Her innocence calls the noble in me. I must protect her.
Day Eighteen
By Thursday, I lengthen my stride. Just when I catch a whiff of Luxury’s floral perfume, I stop in my tracks. Luxury continues along.
Tonight, Vic. You’ll fare better at gaining her compliance then.
Later, beneath a dark sky, I hoist myself onto the fire escape, gripping the latest bunch of flowers by the teeth. I’m invigorated, intrigued by the challenge.
The windows are slightly open. Luxury’s atrocious voice exudes from the shower. I pause and revel in how I’ll have my Little One soon.
Back in her rightful place. Kneeling. Before me.
I slide a furious orange Fire Lily from the bunch and lay it along the windowsill, lifting the frame so Luxury will sense my presence.
Right outside the window, I settle onto the wrought iron at the farthest side of the balcony, placing the rest of the bouquet behind me.
“Oh, fuck. Oh no, it better not be.” Tugging a towel over her chest, she glares out. “You.”
“Hello, Little One. I’ve come to collect.” You. The fire in my eyes says it all.
Luxury sends her spirally tresses away from her vision and locks those warm brown jewels onto mine. “I thought the notion of me pricking your prick with ultra-prickly roses sent you away forever.”
The muscles in my jaw clench. “Although, you deserve a good thrashing—”
“Oh, like a child? I would rather walk the desert of Egypt barefoot and butt ass naked before a man manipulates me.”
“I’m not . . .” My growly tone fades.
Her eyes aren’t shooting hollow-tip bullets into my brain. Silently musing, she retrieves the Fire Lily, whispering how rare it is.
Oh, thank heavens. It’s the desired effect. I’m bloody elated. Though, euphoria’s short-lived.
“Go away, Victor.”
“I can’t.” When the words flee my mouth, they fill the air with an intense silence.
I know the world hasn’t passed away in this very second because I see the sparkle of New York City in Luxury’s eyes. Tongue swiping over her bottom lip in trepidation, she murmurs, “Are you some undercover royal or something?”
“Heh.” There’s another bloody first. I’m speechless, although I’ve had this same effect on a harem. I’ve murdered for Luxury Whitson, and the lovely creature simply hasn’t the slightest idea.
I killed Arnold for you. I’ll fuck over a prime opportunity with a secret assassin ring to spare another life.
But I simply can’t disclose such deviant delights because I’d not change myself for her. Not in the way it counts. So, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Why do you say . . . what was it? Undercover—”
“Because! Everything is about kissing your ass, Vic. Grand gestures included. You gave me the worst date of my life. Next, you ruined my first experience of receiving flowers. Argh, I already told you this.”
“What about the best night of your life, huh? And . . .” I’m seconds away from presenting my next step of atonement when she bites her eyes shut.
“Yes, best night of my life. But I’m sensing a trend, Vic. A date I wouldn’t wish on my worst bully in high school followed by insurmountable pleasure. Another screwed up date—the double with Graham—the flower fiasco at the flower shop . . . and now, here you are fixing that.”
“Was it a fiasco, really?” Mouth tipped in a cocky grin, I stand, clutching the bouquet behind me.
Luxury folds her arms, which causes the towel to slide down her frame. She clutches at it a second before I can feast my eyes on her delicious, chocolate nipples and palm-worthy tits.
“Yes, a fiasco, Vic. Because the other night, you . . . you flirted, danced, and entertained a woman who wasn’t me. Now, you wanna fix things.”