He was quiet for a moment. Then he looked up and the moon reflected in his eyes, glowing and perfect.
“Growing up, I didn’t have many friends. Then I was sent away to boarding school, and the boys and girls there flocked to me, at first because of my family name, but then because of the way I look. They loved me, and I didn’t know why, but I accepted their love. I used it. But then I went to Blackwoods and met you.”
He paused, as if remembering the first time he saw me. “You were beautiful, and you didn’t give a damn about me. I found that fascinating. The more I got to know you, the more I wanted you, had to have you. I learned every little detail about your life, Penny, because you were too beautiful not to take. Even back then, I knew we were meant for each other, because you’re as lonely as I am, despite being surrounded by people all the time.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” I said, hating that he was right.
“We’re much more alike than you realize.” He leaned closer, speaking low. “I’ve been thinking about you ever since Blackwoods. Dreaming about the night we spent together. About the way you taste, the way you come, the way you moaned my name—”
“Stop it,” I whispered.
But he wouldn’t. “I’ve dreamed about your lips wrapped around my cock for years. I want to taste you again, love. I want to fuck you again. I want to make you ride my cock until you can’t take much more. You can sit there and pretend like you’re not shivering with want for me right now, but we both know that once my tongue’s lapping up your dripping pussy, you’ll be all mine again. It’s only a matter of time.”
I looked away, burning red.
Lust and hate filled me in equal measure.
“Take me back.”
“As you command.” His voice was playful, teasing.
I followed him to the house and hid in my room. That night, I locked my door, slipped my hand between my legs, and came while thinking about him, how much I despised him, how much he’d ruined already, and how good he could make me feel.
13
Penny
Present Day
Somewhere in the Midwest
Kaspar dragged me around Europe for the next week, never settling anywhere longer than a night before moving on. I didn’t see much of him, but I heard his meetings. He held them in the local language: French, Spanish, Dutch, Finnish. I had no clue what they were talking about, but the men he met with were hardened and angry, with a dangerous gleam in their eyes, and I knew the type.
Criminals. Mobsters. Organized crime.
Kaspar was recruiting from the international families. I wondered how that would play out with the other Oligarchs, then remembered that I didn’t give a crap.
I tried to have a private moment with Cards, but didn’t have any luck. Whenever I thought I might be able to approach him again, someone came into the room and ruined my chance, or he slipped away before I worked up the nerve. It was like we were locked in a dance, and I could’ve sworn he kept looking at me with a particular type of longing—not sexual, not romantic, but intense all the same.
He’d break and come to me, and when he did, I was getting away.
Kaspar flew us back to America one morning without explaining where we were going. I sat curled up on the private jet trying to ignore him, but Kaspar kept looking at me with this strange stare, like he wanted to rip off my clothes in front of his men and ravish me. It was hard to ignore that level of blatant lust, and I almost envied him. The amount of confidence it took to act like that, not caring what anyone else thought, was impressive.
We landed at a small regional airport after the longest trip of my life. He took me down a series of back roads, down a long dirt trail, and past acres and acres of cornfields, before a large country farmhouse spread itself out in a huge clearing in the middle of the crops.
From the outside, it seemed quaint. Wrap-around porch, red barn, ATVs parked in a neat row, even a black Labrador barking and jumping around. But I noticed the small touches that screamed Oligarch: security cameras, men with weapons, high fences, drones floating around the airspace.
Kaspar led me into the main house. It was all reclaimed wooden floors and rustic decorations, like something straight out of a magazine. He barely looked around, only took me up to my room and tossed my bag on the bed.
“We have a meeting in an hour. Get some rest.” He turned to leave.
“Wait. Who are we meeting with?”
He seemed to hesitate. I didn’t see that from him very often.