Hooked (Never After, #1)(14)
His eyes narrow. “Because you intimidate people.”
My brows shoot to my hairline and I point to myself. “Me?”
He chuckles. “Don’t play dumb, kid. We both know you have this...” His arm waves between us. “Thing about you. Other powerful men don’t like to be around that.”
I bite back my smirk. “You’re a powerful man, yet here we are.”
Ru grins, spinning a cigar between his lips. “I know your loyalty. You work for me.” He shrugs. “I’m not worried about my place in this world, and I’m not worried about your role in it.”
While I appreciate the sentiment behind his words, they cause a cramp to spear the center of my stomach, regardless. Ru may think he knows my purpose in this life, but even he doesn’t know the truth. He doesn’t know that my father moved from America when he was just shy of twenty, becoming the premiere businessman in all of England. That I was born into the life of luxury, and until his death, there wasn’t anyone on earth I looked up to more. Ru doesn’t know that every second since has been spent focused on vengeance against the man responsible.
A phantom twinge splits my side, and my knuckles tighten against the urge to brush the jagged scar that mars my torso.
Some men are born into this world with purpose; other men are mutilated into it.
An unwelcome emotion threatens to slither its way into the moment, an odd ache attempting to settle heavy in my chest. I clench my jaw as I force it back down. The time for sorrow has long since passed. Now it’s simply a thirst for revenge that keeps me going.
Leaning forward in my chair, the fire of my life’s goal licks me with its tempting warmth. “So... when are we meeting?”
Ru smiles. “Next week.”
“Perfect, I have plans the next few nights, it would be a shame for them to fall through.”
“Oh?”
I nod, not willing to elaborate—not wanting to give up my prize before I’ve caught her in my web. I want Wendy to come willingly. To be the bright accent on my arm while I show her off to the world; watch the look on her father’s face as she brings me home for dinner.
A grin sneaks along my lips. “A pet project, if you will.”
He chuckles, running his hand down the front of his face. “Fuck it, kid. If I had your looks, I’d be pussy deep every single day. I’m surprised you show the restraint you do in the first place.”
The muscle in my jaw tics, and I swallow back the disgust at the vision his words create. As if I’d ever give up control for sexual pleasure. Having the urge is one thing, losing yourself to temptation is quite another. And while yes, I may use Moira to keep my darker urges at bay, I never need it. Years of being at the hands of someone who frequently lost their wits have taught me that control is paramount. And while fucking and coming is stress relief, that’s all it will ever be. It’s never for actual enjoyment.
“You’ll be around tonight, though?” Ru asks, his eyes skimming the top of his desk, a vulnerability seeping into the words; so slight you can barely hear it.
Nodding, I stand and make my way to the front of his office. “Of course, Roofus.”
I reach into my jacket pocket and grab the box I’ve brought with me today. Ru isn’t much for presents, but he loves his lighters. Has an entire case filled with his collection. This one is special. A custom-made S.T Dupont, encrusted with red rubies and an inscription on the front.
Straight on ‘til morning.
It’s the first piece of advice he gave me, and one that’s stuck ever since. My thumb swipes across the words, my mind flashing back to that night.
Breathing heavily from exertion, I peer around the building, the brick crumbling under my fingers—evidence of how malnourished the area is as a whole. We aren’t in a good part of town, and my mind races, wondering who the man I followed here is. What he must do for a living to be so comfortable in an area that even my uncle has told me to steer clear of.
“Stay away from the town square with the clock tower.”
The man’s red hair bobs when he moves from the front stoop of the building, the faded green fabric of the awning swaying overhead. He says something and the guys he’s with nod before they walk inside, leaving him alone. The stranger twists, the movement sudden, causing my heart to skip. I suck in a breath, whipping around the corner, the brick rough against my back, even through the fabric of my shirt.
Taking a few deep breaths, I peer around the edge again, but this time, he’s standing right in front of me, hands in his pockets, gray eyes sparking with amusement.
“Are you following me, kid?”
His accent is thick, his r’s sounding like elongated a’s, and my eyes widen as I look up at him and nod. I’ve never been much of a liar.
Maybe I should be afraid, but I’m not. The biggest monster of them all is one who sits at the same table for dinner. Fear has long since marinated in the bottom of my gut like a bubbling cauldron, waiting for me to master the brew so I can use it as poison. So, while maybe it’s nonsensical, this man doesn’t scare me. He inspires hope.
An enemy of my enemy is a friend.
“Well, you’ve got my attention,” he continues. His eyes scan me, lips curling up in the corners. “You Croc’s kid?”
My brows scrunch at the name. “I don’t know who that is,” I reply.