Loan Shark's Obsession Read online

  I nod. How could I have not been scared?

  “Do you want me to kill him?” That same gentle tone.

  “Mr. Vincent!” Fat Tommy squawks. “Man. All I did—”

  “Shut up.” Mr. Vincent’s demeanor turns lethal and makes my skin break out in goosebumps. “Now, tell me, do you want me to ki—”

  “No. I don’t want anyone to die.”

  “But he should pay?”

  I want to say yes. I don’t. What kind of game is he playing?

  “You want me to scare him like he scared you?”

  I find myself nodding.

  He smirks. Then his mouth is on mine in a hard kiss that’s over as quickly as it started. “Pay attention, precious. So you can see what happens when someone else touches something that belongs to me.”

  This time I don’t close my eyes.

  6

  Xavier

  She keeps glancing at my knuckles, but she doesn’t ask the question I can feel lingering on the tip of her tongue.

  “Yes, they’re sore. No, it doesn’t bother me. Don’t worry about it.” I flex my hands on the steering wheel as we speed toward my estate in The Ridges.

  She swallows hard and keeps lacing and unlacing her fingers.

  I know she has questions, but she probably won’t like my answers, so maybe it’s better if we keep the silence goin—

  “Why were you there? What’s going on? Is this some sort of human trafficking thing?” Her questions all run together into a mosh, but I catch them.

  I glance at her. She looks away. But then I feel her gaze return as she studies my profile.

  “Fat Tommy is a popular bookie. I do some business with him.” All true. Vaguely. “I was there on business.”

  “You carry $20,000 on business?” She winces back, as if thinking I might strike her for the skepticism in her tone.

  “Don’t be afraid of me.” I take a hairpin turn on the edge of the sharp ridge that leads to my home.

  She gapes. “How can I not be? You just bought me! Like a damn pony! Are you going to sell me into sex slavery or make me be your little Cinderella maid or, or …or …?” Her eyes widen and she pinches her lips together as her eyes water.

  “I won’t hurt you.” I want to reach for her hand, but she’s busy doing the lace-unlace-lace-unlace.

  “Then let me go!”

  “No. Don’t ask that of me. Ask for anything else, and there’s a good chance you’ll get it. But don’t ask me to let you go.”

  “Why?” She throws her hands up, and I catch her left one in my right.

  “Because you’re mine.”

  “You’re crazy!” She doesn’t pull her hand away.

  I don’t care if it’s out of fear or surprise, I’m just glad to finally touch her like this. “Not at all. You’re the one who offered the deal. I’m the one who took it. Doesn’t that make you the crazy one?”

  “I would do anything to save my brother. You took advantage of a bad situation and—”

  “That jigsaw would’ve definitely left a mark.” I smirk as we roll up to the gate to my property. Slowing, I wait for it to open completely.

  That’s when she makes her move. With a jolt she yanks her hand from mine, throws her door open, and runs.

  Fuck, this is going to be fun. I throw the car into park and jump out, racing after her over the scrub sage and rocky dirt. She doesn’t get far.

  When I tackle her, I pull her tight into my arms and turn so my body absorbs the impact from the fall. Then I roll her onto her back and pin her. My cock is already harder than the desert bedrock beneath us when we come to a stop.

  Pinning her to the ground, I steal another kiss, her mouth perfect for plundering even as she struggles and bucks beneath me. When she opens her mouth to scream, I dart my tongue inside, caressing her and tasting her more fully.

  I pull back, both of us breathless.

  “Let me go!”

  “No.” I can feel the heat between her legs, and my cock demands I explore more, taste her in every way. But not yet. Not until she wants everything I have to offer.

  “I’ll scream.” She sucks in a big breath.

  “I own the land out here for miles. It’s the biggest estate in The Ridges. I’m afraid no one can hear you.”

  She belts out a cry anyway.

  I get up. She scrambles to her knees, then ignores my hand as she gets to her feet. She looks wild, her hair curling around her face, her skin with a fine sheen on it, and a shifty look in her eyes. She wants to run again. Before she can, I bend over and toss her over my shoulder, then turn and carry her back to the car.

  She beats on my back and uses some exceptional curse words she must’ve learned at the burlesque as I carry her past the car, down the winding drive, and into my clifftop home. Once I set her in the foyer, she looks around—likely for a weapon—and I return to the door.

  “Make yourself at home, precious. I’ve got to park my car.”

  “You bastard!” She crosses her arms over her stomach and looks around at the art and the clear ceiling that always gives an amazing view of the starry sky.

  “The house is inescapable. You may go wherever you please, including to the pool and the garden, but if you stray beyond the garden walls, I’ll know. I have guards throughout the estate, and they’re all paid quite well. You’ll be brought back to me every time. The pool is infinity, of course, but don’t let it fool you. If you try to jump over the edge, a fifty-foot drop onto some particularly sharp stones awaits you. Don’t do it.” Hmm, maybe I should have a net installed down there just in case.

  “You can’t keep me here.”

  “I can. And here’s the thing, precious.” I walk closer to her, and she leans back to meet my gaze. “Like I said before, you made this deal. If you break it, I’ll return to Fat Tommy and get my money back. If that happens, it won’t be long before Scott and the jigsaw become acquainted on a deeply personal level. Understand?”

  “You’re a monster.” Her lip trembles.

  “Maybe so. But you belong to the monster now. I paid full price. Keep that in mind.” I want to kiss her again, but she looks like she might bite me if I tried it.

  “You can’t do this.” Her voice is a near-whisper.

  It’s already done.

  “I’ll make dinner when I get back.” I close the door and hear the locks click into place.

  She darts deeper into the house, likely seeking a weapon or a foolish escape. There is none. She’s here until she realizes I’m the one for her, until she knows the same thing I do—that we’re meant to be. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. Though, if my cock is any indication, I hope it’s soon, because I’m desperate to give her a taste of everything I have to offer.

  7

  Laura

  I huff in annoyance when I can’t find anything I can use to kill Mr. Vincent. I fall back onto the giant bed and look up at the canopy. I’d cry, but I don’t think I have any tears left. More than anything, anger is starting to creep in on me. I might actually follow through with my murder plan if I could only find a weapon.

  At first I hid in a closet, but hiding always makes me have to pee. So then I went to a bathroom—a really nice one with marble and the prettiest tile I’ve ever seen—and kept exploring. The doors are locked, windows don’t open, and there’s nowhere to go but down a steep hillside. So then I hid in yet another closet, but when no one came to drag me out, I continued going from room to room. Now I’m just lying in this bed waiting to be murdered, I guess.

  I’m never going to understand what’s going on here. There’s not a single reason this man should want to keep me here. He said he’s not going to sell me or turn me into Cinderella. Then exactly what does he plan on doing with me? I bite my lip. It can’t be about sex either. There’s no way that man can’t get laid if he wants to. It would be crazy for him to kidnap or buy someone for such a thing.

  “Oh, sorry, miss. I didn’t know you were here.”

  I sit up to s
ee a dark-haired woman coming out of the bathroom. She looks to be in her early forties, if I had to guess. She’s got a stack of fluffy white towels in her hands. She’s very pretty. I bet he could sleep with her.

  “Are you kidnapped, too?”

  She lets out a small laugh. “I’m Della. I work here, and I rather enjoy my job, so don’t get any ideas about me helping you leave.”

  There goes that idea.

  “He kidnapped me!”

  She shrugs.

  “Is this normal around here or something?”

  “No.”

  I stare at her, willing her to say more.

  “He’s a good man, won’t harm a hair on your head.”

  “I don’t think good men steal women.”

  “Maybe we have different ideas of what makes a good man. And I have it on good authority that you were the one who made such a deal.”

  I purse my lips. Everyone is crazy today, and I’m starting to think I’m going over the edge too.

  “It will be okay. You’re different.” Her face goes soft. “Xavier doesn't bring anyone here unless they’re in his inner circle. Even then, most don’t make it past his office. Whereas you’ve been roaming the house for an hour, opening every door and drawer as you go.”

  “Xavier? I thought his name was Vincent.”

  “Xavier Vincent,” she corrects.

  “Xavier Vincent.” He’s got a cool name for a stone-cold jerk. “He’s lucky I don’t burn this place down with everyone in it.”

  This makes her laugh again. “You’re a terrible liar. I bet you can’t even kill a spider.”

  “Why would I? When you can just take it outside.” I never understood people wanting to crush something so small.

  “I’m starting to get it.” She cocks her head to the side, and this time it feels like she’s really looking me over. “Don’t fight it. The sooner you give in, the sooner you’ll both be happy.” With that, she heads out the door. “This is the master by the way,” she tosses over her shoulder as she exits, leaving me even more confused about this situation than I was before.

  I slide off the bed that does smell like Mr. Vincent. I think I knew it was his room when I ventured in here. This shouldn’t even be called a room. I think it’s eight times bigger than my place. Every room in this place is as breathtaking as the last. It makes me wonder who Mr. Vincent really is. Well, besides an extremely handsome kidnapper.

  I take off toward the bathroom to peek inside.

  “What the hell?” The bathroom is definitely big enough to fit three or four of me in it. Everything is so shiny and white. I itch to go inside. I’ve never seen a bathtub so big in my life. You could swim in it. I turn and stomp out of the room before I’m tempted to crawl into the tub. I won’t give Mr. Vincent the satisfaction of finding me naked in his bedroom.

  I descend the stairs, now mad that I can’t take a bath. I follow the scent of fresh baked bread into the kitchen. Mr. Vincent is standing at the island. I watch as his big hands make quick work of whatever it is he’s chopping. He doesn’t look as if he’s a stranger to using the blade.

  “Come have a seat with me, precious.”

  I bite the inside of my lip and debate if I should do it. There really isn't anywhere else for me to go. I might be able to get some more information out of him if he thinks I’m cooperating. I walk over and climb up in the chair.

  “This is for you.” He pushes a mug toward me.

  “What’s that?”

  “I think you know what it is.” He lifts an eyebrow.

  “Oh my gosh. It's a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.” I wrap my hands around it and pull it to me.

  “You like Italian?”

  “I’m starting to think you might already know the answer to that, too.” I eye the ingredients laid out in front of him.

  “I can be a little obsessive about details. If there’s something I want to know about someone, I don’t stop until I know everything.” Obsessive. I can have the same problem if I let myself. I don’t. That’s why I keep everyone at arm's length.

  “You want to know everything about me?” No one’s ever taken that much interest. Not in me. Star, now she has tons of admirers and stalkers. But not me.

  “Yes.” A timer goes off. Vincent walks over to the oven and pulls out a loaf of bread. It smells heavenly. The man can cook, too.

  “You don’t need to kidnap women. I don’t understand you. You could get anyone you want.” I fold my arms over my chest, not caring that I probably look like a child pouting.

  “That’s not true. I remember someone who turned me down a dozen or so times. No matter what approach I took, it never seemed to be the right one. Leaving me with no other options, really.”

  “You don’t want to date me. Trust me. I don’t date. I can’t. It’s not my thing. You may as well let me go.” I take a delicious gulp of the perfect hot chocolate.

  “You can’t date?” He peers at me, his gaze so direct it’s like a touch.

  I shake my head. “No dating.” Why are my cheeks heating? Am I flirting? I should be running, but everything smells good, and on top of it, Mr. Vincent looks amazing in his black button down and black pants. He’s tailored and gorgeous. And probably planning your murder, my brain adds.

  “So no dating.” He bounces the knife on top of the diced onions, a thoughtful look on his face. “That’s fine.”

  Okay, he’s getting it.

  “Right, so I should be going.” I take another drink.

  “Do you need something more serious? Marriage.” He gives a decisive nod.

  I spit out the hot chocolate, splattering it across the white marble counter. I put my hand over my mouth. I did not just do that. My face burns with sheer mortification. I will not be embarrassed about this. He kidnapped me. He should be embarrassed. Even as I tell myself that, my face only heats more.

  He lets out a chuckle and grabs a hand towel to quickly remove my mess.

  I lean back in the chair and decide I’m just going to keep my mouth shut for now. I watch as he fills two plates and places one in front of me. He comes around and sits down next to me.

  “You want me. That’s why I’m here. You want me for … dating? For … more?” It’s all been right there in front of me. Everything is starting to add up now. All the times he asked me out, paying the money today, the kisses, and his erection that brushed against my butt when he tackled me to the ground. He’d been turned on. My body’s reaction to it is not one I was prepared for.

  Then there’s the sweet name he keeps calling me. Precious. I hate that every time he says it I get a warm feeling in my stomach. I also got that feeling when he made Tommy pay for what he’d done to me. As messed up as it all was, it felt good to have someone stand up for me. After so many months of taking crap from Star, who is constantly doing mean stuff to me, it felt good for once to get a little payback. Even though it wasn’t done by me, it was done in my name.

  Despite these facts lining up right in my face, it’s still hard for me to believe that someone like him wants me. It’s another reason I kept turning him down. He’s so handsome, and clearly rich. I’m just me.

  “You need to eat.” He jerks his chin at my plate.

  “Answer me, and I’ll eat. Why did you take my offer? Why am I here? Because you want to ...” I swallow hard. “Have sex with me?”

  He turns his head, his dark eyes locking with mine. “Want isn't a strong enough word for what I feel for you.”

  I look down at my plate, unable to hold the intensity of his stare.

  He’s never going to let me go. That much is clear from the look in his eyes.

  I should be afraid, and I am, but not enough. Not when there’s another emotion at war with my fear. Longing.

  8

  Xavier

  She eyes the knife I used to chop the onions.

  “Take it.” I gesture toward it with my fork.

  “What?” Her eyes widen.

  “If you’ll feel bett
er with that smelly knife in your hand, then by all means.” I want her to feel comfortable and safe. If that means she needs a deadly weapon to do it, that’s fine by me.

  “What if I kill you with it?”

  I try not to smirk. I fail. “I’ll hide my rising fear under a mask of stoicism.”

  “I could kill you!” She reaches for it and takes the hilt in her hand. “See?” She brandishes it toward me, but nowhere near me, which is a good thing given she might wind up taking an eye out.

  “Yes, you’re a real killer.” I take another bite of penne. “Other than your violent streak and affinity for blades, tell me about you.”

  Her face falls a little. “I could be a killer,” she grumbles under her breath. She keeps the knife and retakes her seat. “Me? Nothing to tell, really. High school dropout, assistant to Star, a general nobody just trying to survive.”

  That description doesn’t even begin to encompass everything she is. “Do you value yourself so little? I hate to hear it.”

  She shrugs. “It’s the truth.” Using her free hand, she tears off a piece of bread and dips it in the olive oil.

  “Not at all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have value. Priceless, in fact.” I hold her gaze.

  “You really think that?” Her eyes start to water.

  I reach for her hand. “Oh, precious, I’m sorry. Did that upset you?”

  “No. I mean—” She shakes her head, then looks at the knife. “Oh.” She slides it away from her and back onto the cutting board across the counter. “Onions. They’re kind of strong.”

  I hide my smile in another bite of food.

  She tears off another piece of bread and adopts an all-business tone. “So what do I have to do for the $20,000?”

  “Straight to the point, aren’t you?”

  “I just want to know what you expect.” She takes another bite, and I can’t help but enjoy the fact she likes my cooking. “I’m not going to just lie on back and tell you to draw me like one of your French girls, okay? I’m not that easy. I’m not judging sex work, but I don’t do sex work.”