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Sunshine: Do not.

Do too.

Sunshine: Do not.

Sunshine: Dio, are you really arguing this?

I laugh at the screen as she flops back onto her bed. Her small breasts jiggle, and my mouth dries. I shouldn’t, but⁠—

Let’s play a game, Sunshine.

Her chest heaves, but she answers.

Sunshine: What kind of game?

Truth or dare.

A smile quirks her lips. It’s the first I’ve seen it—and it’s absolutely stunning. Small, soft, it holds the galaxies in one little grin. My entire world tilts on its axis, and I’m lost.

Sunshine: Dare.

She is brave. Maybe a bit rebellious, too.

Touch yourself. Bring yourself to climax and scream for me.

Her fingers hover over the screen, pausing. A blush darkened her cheeks, but she doesn’t move to answer. There’s a flash of fear of overstepping; maybe she is that innocent.

My groin kicks. Holy fuck, I didn’t have a virgin kink, but I do now.

She jumps, flying off her bed. Sliding her robe over her shoulders, I mourn the loss of her behind the pale satin. As she’s tying it, her door opens, and in walks Freddie.

My gut churns, red-hot anger pulsating through me. I glare at the monitor as he leans over her. She’s this sweet, docile bunny under his wolfish gaze. My fingers twitch. I want to skin that rabid animal alive, throw his pelt on my carpet, and fuck her bare on it.

He picks up a piece of her hair and presses it against her head. Her face screws up in momentary pain before it’s wiped clean. I’ve seen that before. My sisters and I learned a long time ago how to hide our emotions when faced with someone who could exploit them.

Valentina doesn’t feel safe around Freddie.

She nods something, and he looks around his room, searching. If he’s looking for me, fat chance. I’m too smart to be caught. Once satisfied, he leaves, and she rushes to close the door behind him. Back pressed against the grain, she holds the phone up to her face.

Sunshine: I have to go.

She turns the phone off, placing it down on the bed, almost lovingly. Whatever Freddie instructed her to do, she wants no part in. It could be an act. Yet, that doesn’t seem like Valentina. She’s too good, too soft, to play games.

Crossing to her closet, she quickly changes. Stepping into tight jeans and a pale cardigan sweater, she slides her feet into designer flats. She doesn’t put makeup on, only pats her hair as if checking something, and hurries out.

I click a few keys, following her path. Her guard is at her side as they weave through the halls and down into the foyer.

Huh.

There’s a large gathering in their living room. Men in all kinds of suits are placed throughout the space, some sitting, others leaning. As Val enters, the men straighten, eyes drifting over her form.

Fuck. She’s prey to these bastards. Her small steps, the slight angle of her head showing submission; she’s something to break. And they want to.

I click a few more buttons, zooming in. I take a picture of every single man and commit it to memory. Not while I’m fucking here. I’ll murder every single one of them.

As one shifts closer to her, she shoots him a murderous glare, halting him, and I grin. Damn, I love her bite.

Roman enters, face red. I can’t hear anything, but the minute the men see him, he explodes. Tossing things around, vases smash against the walls, and he waves his gun around.