His expression morphed into a sneer. "Because Debbie wasn't as smart as she thought she was. I’d met Katerina; I knew full fucking well that family was hiding something good. They were too damn quick to accept my prenup. All I needed to do was wait it out. Fifteen years of marriage and one child, then I was entitled to half of everything in Debbie's name."
My brows flickered up. "But she was murdered before you'd even been married for twelve."
"Exactly why I kept you around, my little meal-ticket. You inherited everything. I just needed to work out how to transfer that ownership to me. Trouble was, Debbie had suspected something was happening before her death and went to some serious lengths to muddy the water." He scowled at that, like he was still pissed off at his dead wife. "Eventually I worked out that no matter what I did, your estate wouldn't pass to me because I couldn't prove I was a blood relation, so I cut my losses."
Anger burned through my veins like acid. "You sold me."
He didn't even look apologetic. "For fifty-two million. A damn sight more than I ever thought you were worth, Madison Kate."
Ouch. Even knowing he wasn't my father—and never had been in the ways that mattered—that comment still stung because it totally summed up his whole attitude toward me my entire life. I was an asset with an assigned value. Nothing more.
It made sense, though. He’d sold me while I was still seventeen, likely when he'd exhausted all other avenues to get his hands on my money. If I'd turned eighteen, he'd have lost the power to marry me off and lost his chance at clearing his bad debts.
I looked down at the knife in my hand, then up at Samuel. It was hard to reconcile this revolting man with the one who'd forever been the head of the Danvers household. When I’d been a child, or even a grief-stricken teen, he’d been someone to be respected and awed. Never loved. But now? Now he was simply better off dead.
"What are you going to do with that?" Samuel taunted with a laugh, eyeing the pretty purple blade in my hand.
My gaze rose, locking with his as I released the blade with a practiced flick of my wrist. I was rewarded with a flash of real fear across his face.
"Well," I said with a shrug. "Someone told me recently that I deserve to take my pound of flesh from you. After all, I deserve vengeance for being sold in a slave market. Now that I’ve heard how you treated my mother, how she came to you after being raped and you refused to help her?" I took two steps closer, letting the silence thicken as Kody and Steele moved in on Samuel's chair from either side. They locked his wrists and ankles to the chair with handcuffs before he could struggle or try to run.
Samuel finally seemed to understand. The danger in this room wasn't from Kody or Steele; it wasn't even from Archer. No, this time it was all from me. This was my story to tell and my revenge to seek.
"Now, Daddy dearest, I think I might take that turn of phrase literally." I bent at the waist, bringing the tip of my blade to rest on the fabric of his suit pants, just above his knee. Only then did I hesitate.
Could I seriously do this? Could I deliberately cause so much pain simply for my own gratification?
Kody shifted in the corner of my eye, and I knew he was silently offering to do it for me. But I gave a small headshake, denying him. I needed to do this. I needed the closure this bloody act would bring, even at the cost of my uneasy mind.
Drawing a breath, I plunged the knife down into Samuel's leg.
He howled, thrashing against the handcuffs and dragging my blade all over the place as I held tight. Idiot. Blood spurted everywhere, but I closed my mind to it and focused on my task at hand.
Several moments later, I lifted a handful of severed flesh and inspected it with a critical eye. "What do you think, boys? Is that about a pound?"
Steele damn near looked like he was about to start laughing—sick fuck—but he nodded his agreement. "I'd say so."
Samuel was still screaming and crying, begging for his life, but it all fell on deaf ears. I tossed the chunk of his flesh onto the plastic-coated ground beside his chair and eyed him critically. Blood gushed from the mess I'd made of his thigh, and I was willing to bet I'd cut something vital.
In my defense, I was no trained butcher. Just a pissed off chick looking for vengeance.
Steele wordlessly handed me a gun, and I took it in my slick, blood-covered fingers.
"Any last words, Dad?" I asked Samuel in a chillingly cold voice as I aimed Steele's gun at his face.
He started to curse, but I squeezed the trigger. Fuck his last words, he didn't deserve them.
30
I took my time in the fancy restroom at Osso, scrubbing the blood from my hands with their expensive hand soap. It washed off easier than it should have, but I carefully checked around my fingernails, then inspected my face in the mirror. Sure enough, splatters of blood peppered my cheeks and neck like macabre freckles.
I sighed, then wet one of the fabric hand towels to dab it off. Hazards of murder, I supposed.
The door opened, and Archer entered, letting it swing shut behind him.
"You okay?" he asked me in a quiet voice.
I nodded at him in the mirror. "Yeah. Sorry I'm taking ages."
He shook his head. "Take as long as you need, Kate. Kody and Steele are taking care of the cleanup."
"Cool." I dabbed another spot of blood from my neck, then inspected my reflection for any I might have missed.
Archer just stood there, watching me.
Eventually, I dropped the washcloth into the dirty laundry basket and turned to face him.
"What?" I asked, meeting his gaze.
His brows flicked up. "What?"
My eyes narrowed. "You're watching me like you're worried I'm going to fall to pieces any second. Well, I'm not. I'm fine. Okay?" And strangely, I was.
He took two steps closer, crowding me against the vanity. "I wasn't looking at you like you might break, Princess." His voice was rough as his thumb and forefinger caught my chin and jerked my face up to hold his gaze. "I was looking at you and thinking how you might be one of the strongest women I've ever laid eyes on. But I also worry that I've broken something in you." His eyes searched mine like he could see all the way down to my damaged soul.
I drew a deep breath, feeling it flood through me and calm my tense muscles. "If you have," I told him in a whisper, "then I don't want it mended."
He groaned, then kissed me like his very life depended on it.
When he released me some moments later, my cheeks were hot, my lips swollen, and my heart pounding so hard it hurt.
"Come on," Archer said, "let's get home. In case you forgot, we're getting married tomorrow." His smirk was all mischief as he linked our hands together to tug me out of the restroom.
I grinned back at him. "How could I forget?"
The private dining room had already been stripped of plastic sheeting—and dead bodies—and all the chairs and tables were back in the rightful places. Archer led me through the empty kitchen and out the staff exit into the alleyway behind the restaurant.
Kody and Steele leaned against another nondescript, midsize sedan, laughing about something while they waited for us.