In Your Clutches

Part 14: Ten Seconds Of Misery

AMELIA

My life didn't flash before my eyes.

I had no epiphanies.

I didn't panic.

There was nobody coming to save me, yet a strange calm blanketed my body.

The person whom I bumped into was Fitz. Well, that's what his partner called him.

Either, he understood that something was up or his intentions weren't nice and he wanted to have his 'chance' with me.

It was as though I'd slipped into a spa instead of the wolf's den. Did I expect to talk my way out of this?

Fitz wasn't Asher. He was a forty-something man with thick ginger hair that he'd combed back. His wide, shapely lips pulled into an irresistible grin, one that probably tricked many women with its false promises. Freckles dotted his pale face. Combined with the pretty smile, they gave him an illusion of innocence which might've fooled me if I weren't familiar with gangsters. I'd never trusted Dad's men, except for Francesco.

They were always in my peripherals. He was dangerous, but I could handle him.

"You're short." Fitz sat close, his knees touching mine as he tapped the envelope and its contents. He had dragged me along with him in a large room which appeared to be a distillery, where we were seated. "What am I going to do with you?"

Let me go, maybe?

"Please, let me go, I am supposed to be leaving. My fian—"

"Not for free. Pay up."

A ripple of panic crashed against my fortress. "Look, I don't have any money. I left my purse in my car outside. If you'd let me—"

"I believe you."

"Then I don't know what I'm doing here." I said, my lip pursed.

"Hold on, darling." He touched my wrist, and a wave of revulsion churned my stomach. "I want to see if I'm right."

"Don't touch me." He flipped my forearm.

Grabbing the strap of my dress, he pulled. He sighed, and ran a finger over my flesh. "No marks. Good girl."

"You won't think so when I jam my foot in your balls."

"That's a pretty rock." His thumb nudged my ring, sliding the white gold to peer at the sapphire's many facets. "Could fetch a decent price."

"It's not for sale."

"Oh? Are you offering something else as payment?" Fitz's hunter eyes froze me in the chair. Yeah, I was right, his intentions weren't nice. "My wife was just like you. Glossy brown hair. Soft skin. Blowjob lips."

"And you were doing so well with the compliments."

"Would you like me to keep going?" I wanted to leave.

"Whatever."

"You're hot-tempered. My ex, Miranda, was a mouse. I had to teach her how to give head. She was never great at it, to be honest."

"She dodged a bullet."

"Not quite. She got unreliable." My guts lurched as he leaned forward, looking at me under lashes that were so fair they disappeared.

"I found out that my wife was CI. You can't imagine the disappointment. The betrayal. My lovely Irish rose was a fucking snitch. So I waited for her at home, in the bedroom with the lights off. I'll spare you the details, but I made my little raven sing one last song."