“I expect Luxury to fall at her feet for me like any other woman until I’ve had my fill of her. Then I’ll complete my mission and put a bullet or two in her father.” As I speak the truth, I detest what I already knew. One morning enthralled by Luxury’s soft curves and a trillion flecks of cinnamon-colored diamonds won’t make a saint out of me.
I’m the fucking monster who siphoned some of the pain she held in as she spoke of her mother.
I want more.
Her pain.
“But she’s different, Victor.”
“True.”
“Here’s another rhetorical. Have the other women always fallen at your feet?”
There wasonewho refused me until her last breath. My best course of action is to leave Luxury alone, murder her father, and return to my life. Still, for the first time, I’m a rage of vacillation.
Luxury’s daily life is ingrained in my mind. Monday settles in like clockwork, she visits Dr. Whitson at Greco Technologies, followed by heading off the afternoon crowd at her flower shop.
On Tuesday morning, I stalk her as she walks.
She never looks back. It’s bloody infuriating.
I’m at square one.
Her innocence calls the noble in me. I must protect her.
Day Eighteen
By Thursday, I lengthen my stride. Just when I catch a whiff of Luxury’s floral perfume, I stop in my tracks. Luxury continues along.
Tonight, Vic. You’ll fare better at gaining her compliance then.
Later, beneath a dark sky, I hoist myself onto the fire escape, gripping the latest bunch of flowers by the teeth. I’m invigorated, intrigued by the challenge.
The windows are slightly open. Luxury’s atrocious voice exudes from the shower. I pause and revel in how I’ll have my Little One soon.
Back in her rightful place. Kneeling. Before me.
I slide a furious orange Fire Lily from the bunch and lay it along the windowsill, lifting the frame so Luxury will sense my presence.
Right outside the window, I settle onto the wrought iron at the farthest side of the balcony, placing the rest of the bouquet behind me.
“Oh, fuck. Oh no, it better not be.” Tugging a towel over her chest, she glares out. “You.”
“Hello, Little One. I’ve come to collect.”You.The fire in my eyes says it all.
Luxury sends her spirally tresses away from her vision and locks those warm brown jewels onto mine. “I thought the notion of meprickingyourprickwith ultra-pricklyroses sent you away forever.”
The muscles in my jaw clench. “Although, you deserve a good thrashing—”
“Oh, like a child? I would rather walk the desert of Egypt barefoot andbutt assnaked before a man manipulates me.”
“I’m not . . .” My growly tone fades.
Her eyes aren’t shooting hollow-tip bullets into my brain. Silently musing, she retrieves the Fire Lily, whispering how rare it is.
Oh, thank heavens.It’s the desired effect. I’m bloody elated. Though, euphoria’s short-lived.
“Go away, Victor.”