quietly contemplating the woman who had split her open like volcanic crust.
This woman was her enemy, she reminded herself over and over again. An enemy who had somehow crept under her skin and under her defenses like a Trojan horse. It confused her, the immediacy of her feelings, the need to be close, to simply sit and watch Mickey sleep. Victoria remembered her touch, and with a blush, each and every detail of last night.
She had to be very, very careful around Mickey. She had skills Victoria had never experienced. Ways and means to emotionally undermine her. To make her want things she blushed to even think about. To make her forget her cold, ruthless life and act like someone she could barely remember. Thankfully, Mickey, you are blissfully unaware of all this. But believe me, I will do my damnedest to flush you out of my system like the filthy little narcotic you are.
The only way Victoria knew to negate her emotions was through hard, relentless work, so she turned back to the task at hand. Michaela Rapowski, aka Mickey, and the unpaid ransom.
Victoria Gresham was worth millions. Her business empire was worth much, much more. She had been missing for over forty-eight hours. Why then was the world still spinning? How had Ginette missed the ransom e-mails? Where was she? Her ex hadn’t moved out of Victoria’s home. She should have received these demands.
Why had the police, the FBI, the media, not broken down the door of this shabby little shack and whisked her away in her private jet? The whole situation confounded her. Something was wrong, and she didn’t like it. And she intended to get to the root of the problem and resolve it.
“So what say you deal with me, and not the police, and cooperate, hmm? You mentioned something earlier about infringed intellectual copyright. I assume you were referring to yourself and your own…intellect?”
Silence. Victoria sighed. She trailed her fingers across the sheet, up along the flat belly, through that breathtaking valley, up a tanned column of throat, to cup Mickey’s stubborn chin. “First of all, I need to know your log-on and password.”
“No way,” Mickey spluttered. “If you think for one moment—aak.” Victoria wrapped a lank of honeyed hair around her fingers and gave a firm pull.
“Log-on.”
“Aah. Stop that. You’re hurting me. I never hurt you,” Mickey squeaked in a wounded voice, on the verge of tears at the sudden hurt.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I never realized there was a code of conduct for kidnappers. Is there a rulebook I need to read? Perhaps it’s the A to Z of Abduction ? No? Then maybe Kidnapping for Dummies ? But wait, I believe you still have to write that…from your prison cell. The one you’ll be sharing with Big Bertha the Bitch Breaker. Tell me the log-on, right now.”
“I can’t believe you’re being so nasty. I was good to you. I could have left you in the garage on that chair, but—”
“Oh, stop the whining. I need that log-on, and I’ll extract it like a stubborn tooth. It’s as simple as that.”
“Well, maybe I’ll exchange it for the money you owe me.”
“Oh, darling, I’m not in the market, because this information…” She gave another small tug, smiling at the corresponding yelp. Jeez, I’m not even yanking hard here. “…I can get for free. So tell me before I get bored and call the police. The only bargaining chip you have is that I want to know what’s going on from the inside. So be smart, Mickey, and spill.” She finished with another tug to underscore the demand.
“Ow, ow, okay, okay, it’s Victoria , password grabber , with a one instead of the second i , and a three instead of an e .”
“Good girl.” Geez, she has a pain threshold so low an earthworm couldn’t limbo under it . What a big baby. I can’t believe she crumbled over a little hair pulling.
Victoria stood over her, the cool air delightfully pebbling Mickey’s nipples under the thin cotton sheet. For a split
This woman was her enemy, she reminded herself over and over again. An enemy who had somehow crept under her skin and under her defenses like a Trojan horse. It confused her, the immediacy of her feelings, the need to be close, to simply sit and watch Mickey sleep. Victoria remembered her touch, and with a blush, each and every detail of last night.
She had to be very, very careful around Mickey. She had skills Victoria had never experienced. Ways and means to emotionally undermine her. To make her want things she blushed to even think about. To make her forget her cold, ruthless life and act like someone she could barely remember. Thankfully, Mickey, you are blissfully unaware of all this. But believe me, I will do my damnedest to flush you out of my system like the filthy little narcotic you are.
The only way Victoria knew to negate her emotions was through hard, relentless work, so she turned back to the task at hand. Michaela Rapowski, aka Mickey, and the unpaid ransom.
Victoria Gresham was worth millions. Her business empire was worth much, much more. She had been missing for over forty-eight hours. Why then was the world still spinning? How had Ginette missed the ransom e-mails? Where was she? Her ex hadn’t moved out of Victoria’s home. She should have received these demands.
Why had the police, the FBI, the media, not broken down the door of this shabby little shack and whisked her away in her private jet? The whole situation confounded her. Something was wrong, and she didn’t like it. And she intended to get to the root of the problem and resolve it.
“So what say you deal with me, and not the police, and cooperate, hmm? You mentioned something earlier about infringed intellectual copyright. I assume you were referring to yourself and your own…intellect?”
Silence. Victoria sighed. She trailed her fingers across the sheet, up along the flat belly, through that breathtaking valley, up a tanned column of throat, to cup Mickey’s stubborn chin. “First of all, I need to know your log-on and password.”
“No way,” Mickey spluttered. “If you think for one moment—aak.” Victoria wrapped a lank of honeyed hair around her fingers and gave a firm pull.
“Log-on.”
“Aah. Stop that. You’re hurting me. I never hurt you,” Mickey squeaked in a wounded voice, on the verge of tears at the sudden hurt.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I never realized there was a code of conduct for kidnappers. Is there a rulebook I need to read? Perhaps it’s the A to Z of Abduction ? No? Then maybe Kidnapping for Dummies ? But wait, I believe you still have to write that…from your prison cell. The one you’ll be sharing with Big Bertha the Bitch Breaker. Tell me the log-on, right now.”
“I can’t believe you’re being so nasty. I was good to you. I could have left you in the garage on that chair, but—”
“Oh, stop the whining. I need that log-on, and I’ll extract it like a stubborn tooth. It’s as simple as that.”
“Well, maybe I’ll exchange it for the money you owe me.”
“Oh, darling, I’m not in the market, because this information…” She gave another small tug, smiling at the corresponding yelp. Jeez, I’m not even yanking hard here. “…I can get for free. So tell me before I get bored and call the police. The only bargaining chip you have is that I want to know what’s going on from the inside. So be smart, Mickey, and spill.” She finished with another tug to underscore the demand.
“Ow, ow, okay, okay, it’s Victoria , password grabber , with a one instead of the second i , and a three instead of an e .”
“Good girl.” Geez, she has a pain threshold so low an earthworm couldn’t limbo under it . What a big baby. I can’t believe she crumbled over a little hair pulling.
Victoria stood over her, the cool air delightfully pebbling Mickey’s nipples under the thin cotton sheet. For a split
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