“You better hope she is not your daughter, Karin, because the stories she will bring home from this place will not be the kind a mother wants to hear from her child.”
Vieth’s shoulders tighten, almost imperceptibly. I want to applaud the woman. Even on a stage, I’ve hardly seen better acting.
“Bring the girl in to say goodbye to her mother,” I call out.
The door immediately opens, causing Vieth to jump out of the way. Bran, Hunt, and Pole bring the delicate flower in. Cora’s eyes aren’t on the floor anymore. They fly to Vieth, waiting for more instruction. I’ll give them the room.
“Give us a minute and you may say your goodbyes.”
I motion for my men, and together we carry Poppy’s body out. “To the basement,” I order. “Kailler, when Vieth is done, search the girl and then take her to the tower room. Make sure you lock the door and turn the cameras on. Do not trust her. The Vieth orphans are experts at weaponizing your sympathy.”
“Yessir.”
Not for the first time, I’m relieved I have a woman as my second. She’s not going to fall for any of Cora’s tricks.
“The truck is here,” Pole tells me.
I shake my head. “No. We’re taking Poppy to the basement. I want an autopsy.”
“We know how he was killed,” protests Pole.
“No. We know how it looks like he was killed. His lips are blue, which could be from rigor mortis or it could be from poison. Vieth is claiming that Poppy was into some shit I wouldn’t approve and is promising to bring me evidence. Let’s make sure we aren’t missing something on our end.”
After we place Poppy in the basement freezer, Pole leaves to call for a medical examiner. My other men are sent off to do some evidence gathering while I return to my office. Someone has cleaned up, and it smells slightly of bleach and some faint hint of perfume.
My wool pants feel tight as I imagine how Cora must’ve prepared for this encounter. She would have bathed specially, rubbed lotion over each limb, dabbed scent at the back of her knees, behind her wrists, at the base of her neck, above her pussy. Her bush would be trimmed and tidied so that her pink pussy would be laid bare for my mouth.
I run my tongue over my lip and turn on the security cameras. Twelve in total flicker to life on my screen. Cora is in the one at 3 o’clock, arms folded protectively across her chest, staring pensively out the floor-to-ceiling windows in the sitting room of the suite. She keeps up the role well. If I was a more trusting man, I’d believe she was a shy virgin forced into this situation against her will instead of what she truly is—and that is an agent ready to bring me—and my empire—to its knees.
The tower room is a collection of three rooms—a living room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. It’s spacious for a prison cell, with thirteen-foot ceilings and luxuriously appointed in custom furniture from a famous designer in Italy, but there’s only one access in.
Likely it is bigger and nicer than anything Cora is used to. Vieth’s orphans are compensated well but not this well.
I sit back and take my cock out of my pants. I might live like a monk in some ways, but there’s nothing dangerous about a good bout of self-love. It takes the edge off and keeps my temper even.
“Turn around, girl. Show me your goods.” I stroke myself lightly, wanting to see her face. As if she can hear me, she pivots slowly, her hands falling to her sides. She brings one up and sweeps the heavy fall of her hair away from her face. Her eyes search the room and then pause on the mantel above the fireplace. She walks over and stares at the large picture hanging above of a young woman with a large hat and golden curls. It’s a Rembrandt, one of the ones featuring his wife, Saskia. He’d loved her the short time that they were together. She died only six years later, and her death drove him to his ruin. You can see his love for her in every stroke of his brush. I didn’t love this painting when it was gifted to me because of its art but because of the placement of the camera hole in the frame. Everyone stares at the Rembrandt, and while they are looking at the painting, I’m studying the viewer, looking for weaknesses and flaws.
Only not this time. This time, I’m taking in a true beauty and imagining that her slightly parted lips are pushed open farther with the broad head of my cock. This time, I’m imagining pushing her to her knees, filling her mouth and then her throat with my shaft, pulsing in and out of her until cum overflows her lips and drips down her chin. I spend in my hand, choking out a soft curse.