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“So many fireworks in such a little body,” the man whispers back, amusement written in his tone, even though he’s at gunpoint again. He knows he can’t escape the shot. He must know it, and he still grins under his nose. “You’re fucking perfect.”
Money’s golden, and family’s scared... but betrayal? Betrayal’s fucking red.
Money is golden, but family’s sacred. Then, I guess, desire is as dark as pitch black. And it’s just as unholy.
I always imagined that when the time came, I’d find someone brave enough to face my brother’s wrath for a taste of that sweet honey.
“I saw how he looked at you in that office, how he brushed you off. You might think I’m off my rocker, baby, but you’re mine now, and I’m going to make damn sure everyone knows it,” he says, his voice a low purr. “People better start worshiping the ground you walk on, or they’ll have to answer to me. Either way, I win.”
offers. “Then, I’d let you stab me before tying you to my bed, all naked and needy, until you’d give in and admit that you’re mine.”
Enemies wear many faces—they’re everywhere and nowhere at once, and if you think that there’s no target on your back, think again.
