Vengeance Aside (Wanted Men 0.5)(27)

It is quieter than usual because many of our men are at the hospital watching over my father. He was shot in the head last night. Samuel and I were there.

A shudder rocked her, and she sat up straighter, tucking her hands under her thighs. “Doesn’t matter,” she murmured as something started to shake deep in her chest. “None of this matters to you. It’s not your business. If he gets hurt or killed, it’s his life, and it won’t affect you at all. You’re gonna be the perfect house guest, prove you’re not a rat, then go. End of.” She wouldn’t feel afraid or sorry or sad or happy. She would be horny but dead inside. That was it.

Funny how the simple plan sounded like the most difficult one she’d ever made.





EIGHT


Lukas made his way back to the kitchen carrying a bottle of wine from the cellar. He’d considered bringing Dale down to show her his pride and joy, but he wanted to feel her out on the subject first. If she had no interest in wine, he wouldn’t bore her with his.

He slowed his approach, wondering if maybe she’d gotten up and was snooping…

No. She was sitting on her hands, talking to herself.

“It’ll get easier. You’ll see.” She grimaced and brought her hands up to rub her makeup-free face.

When he’d first seen her after her trip to the bathroom, he’d been struck by how young she looked. Young and so naturally beautiful she’d taken his breath away.

Kind of like she had when he’d watched her play with the dogs. She hadn’t shied away from the licks and bumping heads. She’d welcomed them. Had shared the dogs’ excitement and had spoken to them as if they were a bunch of little kids.

“Ugh. It doesn’t matter,” she groaned. “Good with the bad, right, Oma?” She looked up. “Okay.” She seemed to think for a second. “He’s fucking with my head, but we’re going to be fantastic in bed together.” She winced. “It’ll have to do. Something good to go with the very, very bad.”

A calmness stole over him at hearing her acknowledge their attraction. But how was it he was fucking with her head? “I wouldn’t say very, very bad.” He wouldn’t pretend he hadn’t been listening either. “Maybe just bad.” She turned and didn’t even blush when he entered the room.

“You give yourself too little credit.”

He didn’t argue as he placed the bottle on the counter and went into the drawer to find an opener. “You speak to your grandmother the way I speak to my mother.”

She cleared her throat. “I saw your protection making the rounds.”

Ah. Maybe it was his lifestyle that was fucking with her head. That was understandable. But she’d get used to it. Just like his mother had for his father.

“As she was when she was alive, my mother is my go-to when I need an ear.” As he twisted the screw into the cork, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. She seemed annoyed, and she was twirling a lock of her silky hair around her pinkie with enough speed to make the habit blur.

“Was your father injured here at home?”

“No.” He popped the cork. “When did your grandmother die?”

“I don’t want to get to know you, Lukas,” she blurted.

“That’s too bad, Magdalena, because that’s what we’re going to do over the next hour.” He went and took a couple of glasses down from the rack in the corner, and brought them and a loaf of bread back with him. He set the bread aside, and, unfortunately, the musical glug-glug of the wine being poured was broken by the crack of Dale’s question.

“Why?”

“Because my father is expecting us to visit him tomorrow evening, and I will not walk into his hospital room with a stranger and try to bullshit him into believing we’re in love when you appear nothing but shit scared and gun-shy. I hope you like red.” He handed her a glass.

She took it, and he had to swallow a moan when the first thing she did was smell it.

“In love.” She shook her head as if the idea was impossible. “Why do you want me to meet your father?”

“Because he needs to meet you. You like wine?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know much about it?”

“Some.”

Her one-word answers were both frustrating and entertaining. “Would you like to elaborate?”

“No.”

“Why? Do you think I might laugh at you? Correct you? Make you feel foolish?” He could already see that, despite her perfect appearance, her self-confidence wasn’t healthy. Was her critical father to blame? Lukas wanted to backhand the man for daring to tell his daughter her opinions were worthless. What kind of asshole did that?

Or did the blame for Dale’s lack of confidence lay with her mother?

“You don’t seem the type who has to belittle someone to make himself feel big.”

“I’m not.”

“Good.”

Snooty little thing. “Wine is a passion of mine,” he supplied. “I own two vineyards. One is in California, the other in Italy. Now it’s your turn. Tell me something about yourself.”

She brought the glass to her lips and took a small sip. “I like to be on top. I like the control. Not only speed and positioning, but how deep I let you into my body. Mmm.” She tapped her nail on the glass and held his eyes. “Congratulations, Lukas. Your wine is rich and seamless on the palate.” She slid off the stool. “It possesses striking depth.” And walked around the island. “Along with black cherry and chocolate,” she bumped him back with her hip and placed her glass down before hopping up to sit on the counter in front of him, “there’s a hint of menthol and spices. It’s lovely. Where’s your kitchen staff?” She took her glass up again and had another drink.