Atonement, p.2
Atonement, page 2
Huh. Interesting. The teen idol turns twenty-one years old today, and her parents are known for showing off.
“Francine Fontaina wants her home swept for bugs before we go, too.”
“Woman hiding something?”
Leaning back, he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s a distinct possibility, boss, but I’m just relaying the information to you.”
“Got it. They’re paying high. You’ll each get a bonus for this.”
He grins. “Works for me.”
My phone buzzes again, this time with Violet standing in front of her full-length mirror wearing nothing but a thong and a bra.
* * *
Violet: This work? I can move pretty freely dressed like this.
Me: I’ll be right there.
* * *
An hour later, she’s dressed in a slinky navy gown, with a slit to high heaven that allows her to run if need be but paired with knee-high boots to hide her weapons.
I stand behind her in the full-length mirror and rest my hands on her hips, ignoring the way my cock strains the closer I get to her. I pull her closer to me, and when her ass presses up against me, she grins.
“My, my, Mr. Master. If I didn’t know you had the gun in your holster, and not your pocket…”
I lean in and drag my lips across the shell of her ear. Inhale her. Close my eyes and relish this brief moment in time when everything’s perfect. “Behave yourself, woman. You move one more inch and I’ll have no choice but to fuck you right here, right now, against this wall, and then we’ll be late.” I shake my head with mock regret. “And I’ll have to punish you for that.”
Her eyes roll back and her head falls to the side, giving me full access to the creamy skin at her neck and her full cleavage. I smack her gorgeous ass, and she gives a little yelp, then a moan. “That’s supposed to stop me?”
A knock sounds at the door. With a groan I pull away from her and adjust myself. “Yeah?”
“It’s me, boss.” Claude, tall, with a shaved head he’s had since his time in the service, comes in with a matte black box in his hand. He’s dressed like me in a charcoal-gray suit custom-made to hide our harnesses and weapons.
“Oh, you brought us pressies,” Violet says, her brilliant amethyst eyes lighting up. She loves weapons like other women love jewelry.
I take the box from Claude. “Give it here. No other man gives my woman weapons.”
He grins at me. I open the box. Nestled on the left are sleek black earpieces with mics, but on the right are new, custom-made thin Tantos. I take the slim one made for Violet and give it to her. The silver blade of the throwing knife sparkles like jewels in her slender hand.
I made her learn to shoot because a knife can only go so far, but Violet’s real skill lies with a blade. “Show me, baby. Target, ten o’clock.”
She wields the knife with the skill of a master, the silver blade flashing in the overhead lighting. She takes her position gracefully like a dancer, and with a flick of her wrist sends the knife soaring into a target we have on the wall for this purpose. It stabs like a dart, straight on the mark.
Claude whistles. “She could slice the hair off my balls and leave ‘em intact,” he says.
“You keep your fucking balls away from her or there will be no intact,” I mutter.
Violet grins. “Aw, babe, I love when you get all territorial on me. Gonna piss on me before we hit Monstraut?”
I reach for her, drag her over to me, and stab my fingers in her hair. “Don’t tempt me.”
“And, that’s my cue,” Claude mutters. “I’ll leave you two to suit up and see you tonight, then.” The door clicks shut behind him.
“Aw, honey, you keep embarrassing the children.” Her eyes twinkle at me. “Now, leave me alone so I can fix my hair. We’ll never get there in time.”
“Your hair’s perfect as is.”
Still slightly damp, it hangs about her shoulders in gentle waves.
“You like the beach wave look?”
“I like every look.”
“You’d like me with cellulite and stretch marks after babies?” she asks, her head tilted. Though her tone’s teasing, there’s a hint of authenticity in her tone I don’t miss.
Still, I heard the word babies and my mind’s still there, not quite sure what to make of a concept like that. She laughs, a musical, addictive laugh I’d pay good money to hear over and over again.
I lace my hands about her hips and drag her closer. “Of course. Even then you’d be gorgeous.”
“Oh? And what if I got into a car accident and they had to amputate my legs or something?”
“Even then, baby.”
“What if I—”
I’ve had enough of this game. “Violet. I don’t like this game. I like you the way you are right here, right now, and don’t want to imagine you hurt or damaged.”
“Alright, alright,” she says. Getting up on her tiptoes, she kisses me. “Let’s go. God, I’m starving, though.”
“Good. We’re getting dinner first.”
Her eyes light up. “Are we?”
“Yep. I finally got you out of yoga pants and a tank top and I’m not missing my chance.”
She gives me a lopsided grin. “I’d get out of those anytime you ask, Mr. Master.”
I slide my hand along the small of her back. “I’m aware, Miss Price. An office perk I like to take full advantage of.”
My phone buzzes with a text. I glance at the screen.
Joe: They need us there early. Ready to leave in ten?
“Motherfucker.”
“Uh oh. Nothing like thwarted plans to bring out the big gun curse words. What’s up?”
“No time for dinner. We need to go.”
Violet pouts for about three seconds before she shrugs, turns, and reaches for the dorm-sized fridge I keep in my room. She opens it and snags two protein shakes. I catch one mid-air when she tosses it to me.
“I’ll take a rain check.”
“Name the place, babe.”
An hour later, we’re stationed outside of Monstraut. Mrs. Fontaina’s given us the full tour of the estate, and Violet intentionally kept her eyes off mine as she did so. Later, she’ll give me the full rendition in Fontaina’s high-pitched, nasally voice. “The glass staircase accesses the primary suite with water views, marble bath with a soaking tub, and private, ocean-facing deck.”
I didn’t know anyone hated pretense more than I do until I met Violet.
I recently tried to gift her a diamond tennis bracelet, and she told me that it was lovely, but could I please get her a gun instead?
I did.
That’s my girl.
When we’re alone on the deck, Claude stationed at the front of the house and Joe on the bottom floor overseeing a small group of my men, I nod my chin toward the office. “You’ll be my lead in checking for bugs. Let’s go.”
“What makes her think her place is bugged?” she asks, her brow puckered with curiosity.
“No fucking idea,” I mutter. “Could be she’s delusional. Who knows?”
We go through the standard routine, sweep the closets, the corners of the room, under the desk.
“I remember I once thought I was being watched,” Violet says with a self-deprecating snort. My heart stops for a full beat.
There was absolutely a time she was being watched. By me.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I swear I always felt eyes following me, but it was just in my head.”
“Oh? When was this?”
“Few months before I came to see you.” She’s crouched on the floor beneath the desk, checking for bugs. She rises when she finds nothing, then sweeps across the desk for another quick go.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her the truth. I can imagine it, her sidled up close to me while I tell her everything. I have files and files of videos I took of her, photos I shot, reams of background history. Everything locked up tighter than a vault.
One day I’ll tell her, but today is not that day.
“And what if you found someone was watching you?”
She looks over her shoulder at me and laughs as if the very thought’s preposterous. “Why would anyone want to follow me?” She shakes her head. “Honest to God, that’s the silliest thing. I’m nobody.”
I cross the room to her. The look in her eyes tells me she’s wary of me, that she knows she’s pushed it by calling herself a nobody.
“Okay, so I’m not a nobody,” she begins, in an effort to backtrack that I’m not buying. We’ve been together now for a few months, but I’ve known her longer than that.
“You are not nobody,” I tell her when she’s within my reach.
“Cain,” she murmurs, her eyes focused over my shoulder at the door. She’s afraid we’ll get caught like this, but I couldn’t give a shit. She shakes her head, flustered and frazzled, until I tug a little lock of her hair just at the base of her scalp. Her eyes widen, and her lips part as her gaze meets mine.
“Not here,” she whispers, begging me not to dominate her where someone could see us. She gave me her word when we closed our first case together that she’s mine. That she’d devote herself to me, give me carte blanche in exchange for my serving her vengeance on a platter.
“Violet,” I warn. She promised me. She gave me a vow that she’d give herself to me, and giving herself to me means I take her wherever, whenever, and however I want. I use that to my full advantage. Never said I wasn’t an asshole.
“You are not nobody,” I whisper in her ear. “You are the most brilliant, the most mesmerizing, the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met.” And I love you, I mentally tack on, but I can’t say it aloud. If I do, she’ll run. I’ve worked every day since the minute she stepped foot on my property to build her trust, but we’re not there yet. She still occasionally flutters her wings like a caged bird, ready to flee when the door opens.
“Well,” she murmurs, placing her hand on my shoulder in an attempt to calm me. It works. “That still isn’t reason enough to follow me. So the very idea’s preposterous, Mr. Master.” She cocks her head and gives me a teasing smile. “Since the only person who finds me so enthralling… is you.”
My heart stops. For one raw moment I think she’s actually hit on the truth. But no… she can’t know.
The handle to the door behind me turns, and we quickly go back to work. I’m distracted, though, as we do our detail.
Does she suspect anything?
The night goes on without a hitch, other than one minor incident involving an intoxicated ex, but Claude escorted him off the property so effortlessly, the crowd at the beach never knew what happened.
I do my job with only one eye toward the party, though.
As always, my main focus is Violet.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re smothering?” she asks, sliding her hand into my back pocket as the evening winds down. She rubs her chin against my chest so briefly she’s like a cat scratching an itch, before she resumes her professional demeanor.
“You’re the one grabbing my ass in public and painting me with your smell as if to warn off any potential predators.”
She reaches for my collar, and I look into her mesmerizing eyes the color of amethyst.
“I’ve got claws, and I’m not afraid to use them.”
“Mmm. Is that a promise?”
She grins, and her belly growls as Joe comes into the room. “House secured. That’s a wrap.”
“Perfect. How late’s Sake and Sushi open?”
She grins. “Late enough.” It’s her favorite, and I’m kinda partial to the spring rolls myself.
I want to keep her happy. I want to keep her safe.
I want to keep her right here by my side.
Chapter Three
Violet
* * *
Cain’s troubled tonight, but it’s not out of the ordinary for him. I know this is just the way he is sometimes.
I blame it on his past.
Sometimes he wakes in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. He paces the room we share and stares out at the ocean. He tries to be quiet so he doesn’t wake me, but I know him too well, and I often wake when he does.
We haven’t known each other for long, but it feels like it’s been much, much longer. Sometimes there’s a depth to our relationship… an understanding, one might say… that makes me feel like I’ve known him for years.
After dinner at Sake and Sushi, my belly is full and I’m tired from the night’s events. Cain’s got a frenetic sort of energy driving him, though, and he hasn’t even stripped for bed.
I don’t ask him what’s on his mind. If he wants to tell me, he will.
I’m lying belly-down on the bed, the pillow tucked under my cheek, when I feel the bed sag beside me from his heft. He’s the largest man I’ve ever known, pure muscle, yet he walks quietly and folds himself onto the bed with surprising grace.
“You move so quietly, I hardly know you’re there,” I say with a smile, my eyes still closed. I feel his hand come to rest on the base of my skull, his fingers gently stroking my hair.
“Comes with my line of work. It pays to move silently so no one ever knows you’re coming.”
That makes me wonder… is there more to his “line of work” than I know?
“Clothes that don’t rustle and rubber soles on your shoes?”
“Exactly.”
We sit in silence for a moment while he runs his fingers through my hair. Finally, he breaks the silence.
“I’m heading down to the target range.”
“Aw, without me? No fair.” I’m only teasing him, though, and he knows it. Other guys play video games or watch YouTube to relax. Cain hones his skills at the target range. It’s no wonder he’s such a good shot.
“We’ll go back tomorrow. I’ve got a new toy for you to play with.” Given how he uses the range, he could mean anything from a new handgun to a new riding crop.
I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open, though. “I’ll look forward to it.”
He leaves a gentle kiss on my forehead before he leaves, and after I hear the door close behind him, I fall into a deep sleep.
Hours later, I hear the door open, and roll over. The room’s gotten cooler, and I shiver before I draw the blanket up over my shoulder. Cain quietly dismisses the guard he keeps at the door when he isn’t with me—both his sister, who lives here with us, and I always have a guard with us—and closes the door behind him.
“How’d it go?”
His voice is raspy and low when he responds. He hasn’t spoken for hours, and he’s tired now, too. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”
I prop myself up on the pillows and open one eye. “I was, but you know this is my favorite part of the day.”
Even in the dim light, I can see the smile that ghosts his lips.
“Snuggling in bed with me?” Cain doesn’t “snuggle.” He kisses, he caresses, he holds me tight, but “snuggling” is too gentle a term for a man made of steel and iron.
“Nah,” I say with a wink. “Watching you strip.”
I’m not lying.
He’s already stripped down to a T-shirt but still wears his dress pants from earlier in the night. I watch in silence as he sits on the edge of the desk chair and unties his shoes. Next, the socks, and his belt. I swallow when he folds it before he lays it over the back of the chair. I have vivid memories of what he’s done with that belt.
I watch as his clothes fall to the floor and pool by his feet, marveling at the harnessed strength evident even in the darkened room. A glint of moonlight illuminates the wide breadth of his shoulders, the corded muscles of his arms, the defined planes of his chest and abs. My eyes travel down to his thick, muscled legs, planted like two trees on the ground.
“We should go apple picking,” I say absentmindedly.
“Apple picking?” He quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side.
“Yeah, apple picking. Like, you go to the orchard and pick apples. They have things like hayrides and apple cider donuts and scarecrows.”
“Babe, it’s November. You have to do that in like… September.”
I sigh. “Oh. Right.”
He shakes his head and continues to undress. “What brought that up?”
“Just imagining climbing up on your back and using you like a ladder.”
“Violet.”
I swallow, my mouth dry. He says one word, and my body starts to heat.
I close my eyes against a rush of emotion and need. I love when he says my name. It’s sweetness and seduction, like chocolate-dipped berries.
“Yes?”
“We don’t need to go apple picking for you to climb me.”
Aw, fuck. I was tired, and now I’m very wide awake. I swallow. “I know.”
I continue to watch him in silence. By the time he’s stripped off the tee and stands only in his boxers, I’m on fire.
“Come here,” I whisper, gently stroking the side of the bed. He gives me a curious look, as if not sure he knows how to take a command from me. He’s usually the one giving them, so I decide to play nice. “Please, Cain.”
A little thrill ripples through me when I realize he’s actually doing something I asked him to. He sits quietly on the edge of the bed just like he did before he left, but this time, I slide out of bed. I position myself between his knees and gently pry them apart. He’s already hard, already eager, and when I stroke his erection through the thin fabric of the boxers, my mouth waters.
“Hands behind your back,” he says in a low command, as he gathers my arms and places them at the small of my back like I’m stretching for a yoga class. “Keep them there, baby.”
