The Scotch Queen: Book Two

by Penelope Sky

  She finally stood up. “Why are you taking me?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “I’m not good for this sort of thing.”

  “You did find at the Holyrood celebration.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I hardly said a word, and I stuck to your side the entire time. I wasn’t much company.”

  “I like a quiet woman.” I grinned because I knew that would piss her off.

  And it did. “Interesting. I like a silent man.”

  I loved her comebacks. “I’m not taking you for your conversational skills. I’m taking you because you look absolutely gorgeous—clothed or unclothed.”

  The compliment didn’t affect her like my other ones did. “Take someone else, Crewe. I don’t want to go.”

  Both of my eyebrows rose at her disobedience. “I don’t recall giving you a say in the matter.” Did I need to pull out the transmitter and remind her what was at stake? That I could kill her brother with the press of my thumb?

  “Look, I don’t want to go. Take someone who would truly enjoy the evening and your company.”

  “I want to take you. That’s final.” I didn’t want to hear another word out of her. My word was law. I always got my way—no matter what.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and retained her angry look. “No.”

  Now she’d crossed a line. “Do I need to remind you that your brother’s life is in my hands?” I inched closer to her, my jaw hard and my eyes unforgiving. I was tempted to grab her by the neck and throw her on the bed with her pants around her ankles. I wanted to spank her until her ass was blood red.

  “I don’t want to be in the same room as that psychopath.” Her words escaped as a whisper, but her voice shook. She never showed fear to anyone, not even me. But the thought of Bones clearly made her uncomfortable, made her twist as if a knife had penetrated deep into her gut. “I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want him to look at me.” She finally ended eye contact and turned her gaze in a different direction, as if she were ashamed of the confession.

  I didn’t blame her for being so disturbed. He was so disgusting that I actually changed my mind about handing her over to him. When I’d pictured that chain around her neck as she cradled a broken arm, I’d turned soft. I didn’t want that fate for her. I needed to make Joseph pay for what he did, but I couldn’t waste such a perfect woman. She deserved better than that. This woman actually made me somewhat compassionate—which was an accomplishment. “He won’t lay a hand on you. I promise.”

  “I still don’t want to look at him.” She stepped away as if she needed space. “I don’t want to be in the same room as him. I don’t want to breathe the same air. All I’ll think about is the way he grabbed my tits and punched me…like I was some kind of animal.” She turned around altogether, hiding her face.

  I suspected tears had built up in her eyes. The only time I’d seen her cry was after her nightmare. She refused to show weakness to anyone, but she allowed me to catch glimpses. Her interaction with Bones was limited, but the three-day period she waited for him to retrieve her must have been just as scarring. She couldn’t sleep or eat because she knew what her fate would be. That must have been the worst part.

  I came behind her and rested my hands on her hips. My face pressed against the back of her head, my nose catching the smell of her freshly washed hair. She’d used my shampoo, but it didn’t smell masculine on her. With her own scent, she made it flowery and sexy. I felt the slight but prominent curves of her frame with my fingertips and noticed the way she inhaled deeply the second I touched her. “You’re always safe with me, Lovely. A man won’t even look at you unless they have my explicit permission. You don’t need to be afraid.”

  “You don’t know what it’s like to be prey…” She’d said that to me once before.

  “They call me the scotch king for a reason. I own the industry, and soon I’ll own the world. And as my queen, you don’t need to be afraid of anyone. You’re my possession, and no one will lay a hand on you. I promise.”

  She breathed again, feeling my hands glide up her torso. “But I’m not your queen. I’m just your slave…”

  I pulled her against my chest and rested my chin on her head. “Either way, you’re still untouchable.” I’d wanted to make Josephine my queen, but being royal in scotch didn’t mean anything to her. Now I needed the right woman for the spot. London couldn’t be the woman for that. She didn’t have the right blood, the right wealth. But she wasn’t nothing either. “You can hold your head high and look him in the eye without fear, Lovely. I’ve never seen you bow before. Don’t start now.”

  Jacques looked London up and down, his face a mask as he examined her. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking until he expressed his feelings candidly. His fingertips rested against his lips as he circled her, looking at her specific measurements and her qualities.

  I was certain making her look beautiful would be easy.

  I sat on the gray couch, and his assistant brought me an expensive bottle of wine and two glasses. I didn’t care for wine, but I drank it to be polite. Some expensive brands of champagne were pleasing, mainly the ones with the highest alcohol content. I crossed my legs and watched London stand on the pedestal, her brown hair over one shoulder and body slumped with a lack of self-confidence. It was out of character for her to look that way, but she was being silently judged by a stranger.

  After five minutes of silence, Jacques finally clapped his hands. “I’ve got it.” He disappeared into the back where all the gowns were stored. I didn’t know a lot about fashion, but I knew each dress was nearly one of a kind. They only made them in size zero to six, and even then, there were very of them. Otherwise, all the rich people would be wearing exactly the same thing.

  London looked at herself in the mirror, an unreadable expression on her face. Her eyes were lifeless, and her shoulders weren’t straight. She still didn’t want to attend this dinner with me, but she’d stopped arguing about it.

  Jacques returned. “Here.” He held a sweetheart-cut gown that was a mix of purple and pink fabric. Everything blended together well, having a slight shimmer that wasn’t overpowering. I didn’t know anything about fashion other than the kind of suits I preferred, but I knew that gown was extraordinary. “Put it on then come back out here and show it off.”

  London took it by the hanger, her eyes roaming over the fabric like she was studying it with genuine interest. She walked into the fitting room and shut the curtain.

  Jacques walked over to me, dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt. For a fashion expert, he wore the same drab outfit every time I saw him. It didn’t express any presence. “That’s one stunning girl.”

  Since he was gay, his comment didn’t bother me. “I know.”

  “She’s got the perfect cheekbones, the perfect eyes…that hourglass figure would look perfect on the runway. That dress is a little revealing for a fancy occasion, but I know she’ll pull it off. The second she puts it on, she’ll fall in love.”

  I imagined London was a jeans and t-shirt kind of woman. She didn’t seem to care about my expensive cars or real estate. Her tastes were very singular, like fresh flowers in a vase or the sun breaking through the clouds on a cold winter day. She didn’t want things. She just needed something meaningful. “Hopefully. She doesn’t want to attend this party with me.”

  “Maybe the dress will change her mind.”

  London walked out a moment later and stepped onto the circular riser in the center of the room. The gown was the perfect height for her, and it fit her frame exactly the way Jacques predicted.

  He clapped as he walked up behind her. “I knew it would be magnifiqué.” He ran his fingers along the side. “This color is perfect for your skin tone. And your shoulders can totally pull this off.” He walked around as he fluffed the gown, making her look like a model about to be photographed. He joined her on the stage then quickly threw up her hair, putting in a cute braid before he pinn
ed it up. “You’ve got to keep your hair out of your face for this one. You have such nice collarbones, a slender neck, a perfect bust size…” He stepped back and admired her. “Mr. Donoghue, you have to buy this gown for her. I insist.”

  I chuckled. “You’re quite the salesman.”

  “This dress was made for her.” He walked around her. “Look at her.”

  I knew she would look beautiful, but she really was breathtaking. I wanted to rip it off her and fuck her the way I did last night—with all that sweat and passion. She would steal the focus for my opening. People would forget why they were even there once they looked at her. “What do you think, Lovely?”

  She stared at herself in the mirror then ran her fingers down the front. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Then that’s settled.” Jacques clapped his hands once. “Take it off, and I’ll wrap it up for you. You got a quite a deal, Mr. Donoghue. The price just dropped to ten thousand euro.”

  London did a double take. “This is a ten-thousand-dollar dress?”

  For the first time, Jacques looked offended. “It’s Valentino, girl. Worth every penny.”

  London shut her mouth, knowing anything else she said would get Jacques worked up. She left the stage and returned to the fitting room to get dressed.

  Jacques was still flustered by her comment. “Some people don’t understand quality.”

  I felt the need to defend her even though I shouldn’t. “She comes from humble beginnings. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “Well, it’s time to drop the humility. If she’s with you, she’s a very rich woman.”

  London and I sat in the back of the car while Dunbar drove us back to the house. London was quiet, having nothing to say after her comment at the studio. Ever since I’d told her she would be my date for the evening, she’d closed like a clam.

  I didn’t care for it.

  I hit the button on the ceiling and closed the divider between Dunbar and us.

  London tensed, probably knowing what was coming.

  “That dress looked stunning on you. I hope you like it.”

  Her legs were crossed, and she clung to the window like she was trying to get away from me. “It’s gorgeous. I never thought something so expensive would hug my body.”

  “I’ve hugged your body plenty of times,” I said with a smile.

  She kept her gaze out the window. “I love it, but I don’t care for the price. That’s excessive, if you ask me.”

  “You get what you pay for.”

  “That dress couldn’t have cost more than a few hundred dollars to make.”

  “That’s not the point. Its value extends beyond the fabric. You’ll get used to the finer things in life. Give it time.”

  “I’m not so sure…”

  I didn’t like this version of her, subdued and defeated. I wanted that fiery backbone, that no-bullshit attitude. I liked the warrior, not the conquered. “I hope the idea of Bones isn’t still weighing you down.”

  “He’s not…for the most part.”

  Now my interest was piqued. I shouldn’t care about how she felt. Her emotions weren’t my problem. She was there to service me, to do exactly what I asked without question. Her thoughts and opinion didn’t matter.

  But I still cared anyway. “What’s on your mind?”

  She watched the fields pass before she answered. “If I were back home right now, I’d either be studying for an exam or doing my nightly rounds at the hospital. I wouldn’t be hanging out with friends or having a good time. My life would be centered around work. It would be drab and boring…but it would still be mine. Now I’m in Italy buying an expensive gown and living in a mansion. I’m your prisoner simply because I’m related to your enemy. My favorite person in this new world is your butler. Everything has changed so much… I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

  I shouldn’t pity her. Her sadness wasn’t my problem. But I did pity her—a lot. “You know I can never let you go, Lovely. I know this is hard for you, but it’s easier just to accept your fate and not think about the past.”

  She shook her head. “The worst part is…you’re the only friend I have. Is it weird that I see you as a friend?”

  I saw her in the same light. “Not at all.”

  “That I have sex with you and I like it.”

  “I like it too.” My cock hardened in my slacks at her confession. There was nothing sexier than pleasing a woman who wanted to be pleased. She fucked me harder than I fucked her most of the time.

  “That I feel safe with you.”

  “You should feel safe with me.” I would never let anything happen to her unless I wanted it to happen. The only person who would ever end her life would be me. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder in fear.

  “That I’m actually grateful you didn’t just kill Joseph once he betrayed you.”

  “You should feel grateful,” I whispered. “I’ve been very merciful.”

  She rested her elbow on the windowsill and held her chin up with her fingertips. “I miss my old life, but I’m grateful you captured me. There are worse things than living with you…like being Bones’s prisoner. And my brother can still be a free man. If I were offered the trade, I would have taken it in a heartbeat.”

  Did that have anything to do with me personally? “You’re loyal. That’s a rare thing to find.”

  “We’re family,” she whispered. “Now that I’ve met people like Dunbar and Bones, I know there are truly cruel men out there. You aren’t one of them.”

  That offended me. “I am cruel, Lovely.”

  “You’ve never laid a hand on me.”

  “I’ve slapped you a few times.” And I liked it.

  “Because I was talking back or trying to run. You didn’t punch me in the face with all your strength like Bones did.”

  Because I didn’t find black eyes sexy.

  “You feed me, clothe me, and you don’t put chains around my neck. It could be much worse…that’s all I’m saying.”

  “You’re a very optimistic person.” If it were me and there was no way to escape, I would have killed myself.

  She shrugged.

  “Or you actually like me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You wish.”

  I grabbed her hand gently and pulled her against me, wanting her to lean against my hard chest rather than the windowsill. “I know you like it.”

  “I tolerate you. Big difference.”

  “I don’t buy that.”

  “Well, you should.”

  I grabbed her chin and turned her face toward mine. Her plump lips looked kissable, coated with a thin layer of moisture from her saliva. Her eyes became lidded, prepared for the kiss before I even leaned in. I could feel the shiver through her body, or perhaps I just imagined it because I felt it. I leaned in and pressed a kiss to her mouth, not surprised to feel her kiss me back. She always met my passion with her own. She was an incredible kisser, a perfect partner. My tongue dived into her mouth, and I met hers as they danced together. She didn’t kiss me so well because she hated me. She kissed me like that because she enjoyed me as much as I enjoyed her. I pulled away when I’d proved my point. “Like I said, I don’t buy that.”

  5

  London

  We headed back to Scotland in Crewe’s private jet along with the rest of his team.

  Including Ariel.

  She sat on the opposite side of the aisle with her laptop out. We had a mutual understanding to pretend neither one of us existed at any given moment of time.

  Crewe remembered my fear of flying because he grabbed my hand the second we sat down and held it through takeoff. He talked to me about Italy to get my mind off the terrifying ordeal and even succeeded in keeping me calm.

  My fear of flying was irrational. I needed to forget about it and just move on.

  Crewe made that a lot easier when he was sweet to me. His moments of tenderness had become more frequent. He held me through my nightmare, listened to my fears with symp
athy, and when I told him I was scared, he always assured me I would be safe.

  He didn’t look like a monster anymore.

  That’s when I knew I needed to make a change.

  I had to get out of here.

  As if I had Stockholm syndrome, I had been brainwashed. I found my captor compassionate and understanding, but in reality, he was keeping me against my will. I shouldn’t feel grateful toward him for anything. He was a preferable to Bones, but maybe he was never going to give me to Bones in the first place. Maybe that was all a stunt to coerce me into appreciating him.

  The fact that I liked Crewe, enjoyed fucking him and spending time with him, was a huge warning sign. I should be exactly how I used to be when I was fighting him every chance I had. The fact that I’d softened so much, leaned on him for support, told me I was going crazy.

  I had to get out.

  I thought about the last thing Joseph said to me, over and over. It filled my thoughts during the entire plane ride. Crewe had a few glasses of scotch then fell asleep with his head against the leather chair. He didn’t shave that morning before we left, so a thick beard was beginning to come in. He was just as handsome asleep as he was awake.

  I could feel the stir in my belly when I felt the sizzle of attraction.

  I wanted to kiss him.

  That was ludicrous. The only thing I should want to do was murder him.

  Joseph’s plan was the only thing I had at my disposal at the moment. I would never be free again unless I got inside Crewe’s head. If I made him fall for me, made him love me, I could get him to let me go. Or I could get him to allow me to escape without repercussion. If I didn’t do something, this would be my life.

  His slave.

  I would travel all over with him and keep him company. Some nights he would be with his other whores. Then he would come back to me once he was finished with their entertainment. He would marry someone suitable, have children, and I would still be the woman on the side when he wasn’t interested in his wife.

  I would never get married.