Total pages in book: 172
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
“Flambé, what exactly did you mean about you and the club? I absolutely require an answer.”
“I meant, as far as I’m concerned, since I’m considered a sex object anyway and you feel you can go to the club and do whatever you want, there’s no reason I shouldn’t go. It certainly shouldn’t bother you.”
Shturm rose so fast that for a moment Sevastyan actually had to struggle with him for supremacy. What do you think you’re doing? If you hurt her, you hurt Flamme. Back off. Sevastyan stayed very still, breathing down the ever-present rage, reminding himself that Flambé was very hurt. Mitya had dismissed her in a cutting way and Sevastyan had let it stand in front of everyone, leading her to believe that the original things said about her were what they all thought of her—were what he thought of her.
She had smelled the club on him when he’d come home to her and she hadn’t said a word, waiting for him to give her an explanation. When he hadn’t, she’d pulled back. It was no wonder she had suppressed Flamme. The two had to be confused. Hurt and confused. He couldn’t compound errors by scaring them both with his temper and Shturm’s.
“There is a complete misunderstanding, Flambé, but I can see how that would happen. I’m going to start with the club. I did go there and I didn’t want you to know.”
She started to stir, moving as if she might stop him from speaking. He could feel her hurt, although she tried hard to keep it from him, but he was very tuned to her. He was a rigger and he’d had her in the ropes far too many times not to read the slightest nuance. He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he knew she wouldn’t allow it. Mitya—and he—had stripped her of her pride.
That damned first conversation Miron and Rodion had overheard and repeated where she could hear it, making her feel as if she were nothing but an object for him to have readily available for him to have sex with, that had started it. That was on him, not Mitya. His cousin couldn’t be blamed for that. Mitya treating her as if she wasn’t important, not his fiancée, not his woman or Shturm’s mate. Even that was on him because he never took the time to fully explain to his cousin what was going on between Flambé and him. He should have. He didn’t want anyone to know he couldn’t handle his relationship—or his fear that he might somehow lose her.
“I would like you to hear me out. Please let Flamme close to the surface so there is no mistaking whether or not I speak the truth. I needed an alibi that night. I planned on killing Matherson and I didn’t want you to know. The cops can track cars through traffic cameras and it just so happened that the place he was renting was a short distance from the club. We parked in the lot and made our way on foot to the residence he had leased.”
Flambé continued to look out over the property. The one thing he didn’t like about the open acreage was the fact that there were several knolls where a good sniper could conceal himself in the branches of a tree or up on a boulder. If Flambé was out on the balcony she could be killed. Inside the room, the bulletproof glass would save her, but if she was outside, that would be a problem. He needed a way to combat that. He forced his mind to stay with his explanation.
“Matherson and his crew were gone, but there were three dead bodies left behind, all human. I knew I could be in trouble if the cops came asking questions—and they might, given the fact that Matherson had been pounding on my door a few weeks earlier. The cops like to harass our family. So, I went into the club, changed and walked around, making certain to be on Cain’s security tapes, and then spent some time talking with him in his office about the gardens. At no time did I tie another woman or use one for sex. I didn’t provide a demo for anyone. I did what was necessary for an alibi and that was it.”
His head was pounding, never a good sign. His body ached, every muscle, an even worse sign. When he got like that, he knew he was getting close to a time when, before he had Flambé, he was going to have to go to the club for a long session. He would have to choose a partner who was no novice with Shibari, who could be in the ropes for long periods of time and could take a little discomfort and fairly savage sex.