Hooked (Never After, #1)(7)

Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I slide into the leather seat behind my desk, typing in Wendy’s name, watching as articles flash across my screen. My stomach tightens with excitement as I read of the love for his daughter.

“His little shadow.”

Fitting nickname, I think. After all, one can’t leave their shadow behind without missing it sooner or later.

A gruesome image of me thrusting inside of her on top of his remains, my cum dripping from between her thighs and mixing with the pool of blood beneath us makes my cock jerk violently, a groan ripping from my throat as I palm my aching erection.

This won’t do.

Pulling out my phone, I send a text to one of the cocktail waitresses on staff tonight, Moira, telling her to stop what she’s doing and come find me. Now.

Clicking out of the articles, I pull up the security feed, satisfaction burrowing in my chest as I see her sipping champagne and trying to act as though she belongs.

She doesn’t.

Not here, and certainly not with the pathetic group of girls she’s with. Her innocence shines like a beacon—a sparkling jewel in the midst of trash—bait for my darkness to come and smother it whole.

The door clicks open and shut, the tall, scantily clad body of Moira sauntering toward me, a smirk on her ruby red lips.

“Hook,” she breathes, walking around the oak desk. “I’ve missed you.”

I allow a soft smile to play across my lips, ignoring the way her voice grates against my ears. My hand brushes a strand of black hair behind her shoulder, cupping the back of her neck and pulling until she’s centimeters away, her moist breath skating across my skin.

Her head jerks. “Sorry, new tattoo. Still kind of sore.”

“On your knees.”

She drops dutifully, her manicured palm rubbing over my length, her mouth pressing kisses against the fabric. My teeth grind, annoyance lancing through me from her poor attempt at foreplay. I palm the back of her head, fingers wrapping around her hair as I jerk her face upward. My free hand presses against her jaw until I feel the indent of her teeth through her skin, my thumb smearing the red paint off her lips.

She flinches, her cheeks smooshing as I grip her face tightly, causing a spike of pleasure to skitter down my spine. “This suit is cashmere, sweetheart. Don’t sully it with three-dollar stains, understand?”

She gulps and nods.

“Good girl.” I pat her cheek before lowering her head back to my lap.

My gaze swings to the computer, watching the true object of my desire. And as Moira’s hot mouth surrounds my cock, slurping along the shaft and sucking me down her throat, my eyes stay locked on the cameras, imagining the day where I’ll have Wendy in her place.

And I’ll make her choke on something truly filthy.





“Still alive, I see,” I deadpan, as Ru waltzes through the office door.

“Alive and never better.” He grins, walking to the tan globe that houses his brandy and pouring himself a glass.

“I take it that means the meeting went well?” My brows rise, noting the time. It’s only been a few hours.

There has been an anxious energy pricking at my insides while I waited on his return. Regardless of Peter Michael’s squeaky-clean image, I know he’s a dangerous man. I also know Ru sometimes lets his temper get the best of him, and even though I’m thankful nothing nefarious happened, I still wish he would have let me accompany him, if only to ensure his safety.

I haven’t mastered the art of propriety, only to lose my composure at the first sight of Peter. I would have remained calm. Shook his hand and looked him in the eye as I imagined all the ways I’ll enjoy bringing him a torturous death.

Ru sighs, sinking into the black couch against the wall, sipping from his tumbler and grabbing a cigar. “The prick never showed up. Sent some kid to do his dirty work, like I’d put everything on the line for some two-bit punk.”

A strange sense of relief floods my chest. “Absurd.”

“Disrespectful,” Ru spits.

“Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about working with him?” My head cocks.

I hope he says yes, having Peter embroiled in our business will make it difficult when it comes time to end his life. Not impossible, just challenging.

Ru shrugs, staring at his cigar as he rolls it between his fingers. “I told the boy to send a message to Mr. Michaels. Let him know how we do things here and hope he comes to realize it doesn’t matter how much money he has, if he can’t put respect on my fucking name...” Ru’s grip tightens, the cigar crumbling under his fingers. “You know, I think I’ve had a change of heart, kid. If he wants to meet, it’s only fair he gets to meet us both.”

Excitement erupts in my stomach. “Excellent news.”

My eyes stray to the computer screen, noticing that Wendy and her friends are leaving. Standing up, I button my suit jacket. “If you’ll excuse me, there are a few loose ends from the night I’m desperate to tie up.”

Ru waves me off, drinking from his brandy.

I leave the room, using the back stairwell to exit the club, so I’m not seen. Slinking around the side of the building, I watch as Wendy hugs her friends goodbye and clambers into a yellow cab, disgust filling me at her recklessness, and the complete disregard her friends have for her safety.

Her father has money, yet he doesn’t afford her a driver? Any protection?