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)
Victor’s hands frame my waist, shifting me back a ways, a little less than arm’s length. I offer a peculiar look. As he continues to encircle my waist, a stunned silence falls over me, and agony morphs his face. Is this our moment? I was sentimental after the Russian. Now, Victor seems shaken up too. Is he finally returning my affections?
He gives my waist another affectionate squeeze. “When we first met, I was spellbound. Your tears baffled me. You’ve truly become so much more than sex, than me owning you.”
As he continues to speak, a spluttering sound crackles in my ears. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “What?”
“I’m not a bloody doctor or a federal agent,” Victor says. “Burt either. Although the old chap’s rather quick on his toes, I’ll give him that.”
“Burt’s not your friggen partner?”
“He’s my butler, Luxury. And my name is Victor Tudor.”
“He’s your butler?” My breathing hollows, blood draining from my flesh. The sound of different medical equipment throughout the room fogs my mind. I remove myself from Victor’s tender touch, arms engulfing my midriff. My stomach, my heart, my entire body plummets as woman’s intuition seizes the moment. I had two non-compromising factors, cheating and lying to me.
I pant on fragments of air. “Talk, Victor. You’ve always been a man of few words and sharp commands. I-I accepted Special Agent Victor Gary in a nanosecond. I understood that you were doing a job, protecting my father. Now, who the fuck are you?”
Wriggling his jaw, he declares, “I’m one of the assassins who came to murder your father.”
Silence overshadows the space between us.
Silence and the air wheezing down my throat.
Silence and the sort of lies that I can’t close my eyes to or use him and his amazing body to compensate for.
Seconds later, Victor not only dashes my spirits, but that motherfucker snatches my heart out. “Luxury, I was the original hitman assigned to murder your father.”
I choke out, “The first?”
“Yes. Then I met you.”
“Oh, you had a change of heart.” I offer the sort of laugh that rings out from crowds of fruitcakes in an insane asylum.
“Yes.”
“Impossible. You couldn’t have a change of heart. You have no fucking heart, Victor.”
His palm slams against his chest. “I’ve a heart, Little One. That’s why I’m being bloody candid with you. I’m a sniper. The score was all mine—no one else’s. I saw you, and I couldn’t do it. Those cunts sent others.”
“So, what was supposed to come next?”
“I tell you about Eve—”
“Oh stop, just stop.”
“Luxury, I hired Bobby George’s team.” Forking a hand through his dark hair, Victor says, “They were to keep your father safe while I looked into . . . something. Tonight, I was to convince you to go with me.”
“You gave me the perfect rainy day. The best day of my life! Not because of actions or money, you, Victor. I saw something in you when we first met, and you gave me life, restored my hope.” A wobbly smile creases my cheeks then crumples away. “You give, then you fucking take, and take, and take some more, Victor. But I was supposed to go with you?”
“Until I could uncover the reason for your father’s hit in its entirety.”
“Go with you?” I repeat, still assimilating to Victor’s insanity. “To England? Have I not made reparations for your sparing my father’s life? I’ve fallen to my knees and sucked your lying dick. Does that not account for anything?”
He reaches for me. “Luxury—”
“No, because apparently, you could’ve murdered my father on day one,” I grit out. “But you . . .” made me fall in love. “You toyed with us. The Russian was that you?”
“The one assigned to restore my cock-up. Fu-Suyoung was an assassin as well.”
Now my heart is in Victor’s hands. The bastard squeezes it to a bloody pulp, douses my heart in lighter fluid, and strikes a match.
Fatigued, I glare at the clock. It’s just past noon. I’ve officially known him for twenty-nine days.
Still not a month!
Our first encounter ended with me hot and bothered.
Our first date, I wouldn’t wish on my worst of enemies.
That is until the ruthless beast tempted me with a side of him I never saw.
His name is Victor Tudor. My darkly attractive tormentor. He’s left me broken. I conceded to second chances, and he twisted me again. Now, I’m standing before a man without a redeeming quality, who tastes like power, sin, and an unbreakable addiction.
I don’t know Victor Tudor.
How could I have given my heart away to a stranger?
Dejected, I mumble, “Victor, why didn’t you just kill my father? Carry on with the next mission, huh?”
At this precise moment, God releases the doubt bottled in my soul and places my sorrow on Victor. He heaves a ragged sigh. “I met you first, Luxury. I bloody told you. I met . . . you, Little One.”