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I want a man to die in front of the fire with his slippers on and his favorite cigar in his mouth. I’m a very considerate grim reaper.
“What you know is just as valuable as what other people know. Never let them see what you know.”
I’ve never missed a target. If I ever do, it will probably be my last. The one you miss is the one that kills you.
I feel a flush of fury, the closer they get. How dare this intruder come in my house? Into my bedroom? It’s outrageous. But I’m also the smallest bit impressed. Nobody’s gotten this close to me before.
All I know is that she belongs to me, and me alone. She’s my prisoner.
“I know you’re a wild thing, malen’kaya lisa,” he says. My little fox. “But what you’ll come to understand is that I’m going to tame you.”
If this is his interrogation, he’s going to have my social security number in five minutes.
I’ve never been overpowered like this. I usually fight to maintain control. But with Ivan, I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to struggle. I let myself be swept away by him, consumed by him. I don’t feel frightened or confined. Paradoxically, it’s freeing in a way I’ve never experienced before. For once I don’t have to plan or take action. All I have to do is go along with it, experience it.
But this woman has confidence on a level I’ve never seen. She’s intelligent. Capable. Ruthless. She’s just like me. Is it narcissistic to say that I love that about her?
Foxes are hunters, but they don’t rely on brute strength. They’re subtle and clever. Fond of outwitting others. Lisa Kleypas
Sloane was a prisoner. Of course she was going to run the minute she got the chance. Still, I can’t help feeling like she abandoned me.
I’m extremely glad to have her back. But that doesn’t mean I won’t punish her for her naughtiness.
She needs to feel that sense of danger and dominance. Just as Sloane is my equal in intelligence and determination, she needs a man who can match her raw sexuality. This woman could never be pleasured by an accountant. She needs a fucking gangster.
And that’s what puts me over the edge too—not her ass or her breasts or even her taste or smell. It’s Sloane herself—her face and expression and voice. The way she gives herself to me. I want to give her everything in the world in return.
After all these years of living in a monastery, I’ve finally found faith in something. This girl who tried to kill me, and instead, brought me new life. I’m almost happy as I pull through the gates to Remizov’s house. Because I’m about to see Sloane again. I’d rather die next to her than live without her.
