Nine

 

Christy

 

Reaper couldn’t be fucking serious.

By the firepit, she stared at the room the girl was in. She’d come close enough to hear her move several times. And she’d fucking delivered her food.

Since when had she become the fucking servant?

To be dismissed like she was nothing more than one of his fucking men! And to have to watch the way he moved to her, locking his hand around her throat, like he needed her to obey. Like it fucking mattered! She was nothing more than a business deal. He didn’t need her goddamn approval.

“You look unhinged standing here,” said Logan, stopping beside her, following her gaze. “It looks weird.”

“You know what’s weird?” she retorted. “Bringing this bitch into our business. He could have sent her to a resort and had her sippin’ her goddamn fruity drinks poolside. Now, we have to please this la-dee-da bitch?”

“To be fair, she handled the journey like a real sport. Should have seen the way she looked at me too. She was fucking pissed, but she didn’t cry a single tear. Bitch has balls, and you should hear her swear. Jesus, I didn’t know mafia royalty had spunky women. They were right about her.”

Christy turned to glare at him. “You’re missing the point.”

“Your point is she shouldn’t be here.”

“Not while we’re finishing up. We can’t trust this bitch.”

“She can’t see shit where she is.”

“She doesn’t need to.”

“Yeah, well, this ain’t our business, is it? Are you marrying her? No. So, get over it, Chris. We got bigger things to worry about than wondering what the hell Reaper’s thinking right now.”

“You’re still missing the point.”

He looked exasperated. “What the hell is the point?”

“The point is we’re sneaking around the place like we’ve got shackles around our legs. Don’t you understand? He doesn’t trust her.”

“No,” he disagreed. “He doesn’t trust her people.”

“Then he should have killed the whole lot.”

“He didn’t want to do that.”

“Don’t you want to know why?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his head as he levelled her with a solemn look. “You’re not supposed to question Reaper’s motives. He knows what he’s doing. Has he let us down once?”

She didn’t bother responding. He still didn’t understand. Reaper wasn’t the kind of man to bend over backwards for a girl. He could have set her up somewhere nobody would ever find her. He didn’t have to go through the hassle of bringing her prissy ass here. He didn’t even mention her once over the weeks leading up to her wedding. Not until recently, and the way everyone blew up about it was ridiculous. She was nothing special. She was irrelevant. What did it fucking matter where she was?

She was everything Christy thought she would be coming here. The second she saw that ridiculous fluffy dress, she knew the kind of girl she was. Her face was inches thick with make-up. Her skin fucking glowed with whatever shit these rich bitches treated themselves with. She was the kind of beautiful you saw in those magazines. Fake. Tanned. Manicured. Fuck, Christy saw herself from years back in her. The old self she shed and no longer respected. The fake nice that made her soul die every time she had to shine someone her fake ass smile.

She was the pampered kind of girl Reaper would never look twice at.

So why was he looking twice at her?