Page 18 of The Prey
Literally speaking, too.
The flight attendant brings me a whiskey and takes her own seat near the cockpit door. I eye her down the aisle. Long brown hair bound up in a braid at her crown and a carefully pressed uniform I want to shred just for the sake of it.
What would Ely do if she woke to me fucking the pretty flight attendant with my knife to the woman’s throat? Would she be scared? I give the idea some thought. It would benefit me to scare her, scare her enough that she runs away for good and leaves me the hell alone. But then it would make my job ten times harder because I’d have to chase her around, stalk her, and ensure she doesn’t tell anyone anything.
I sip the whiskey and stare out the window while we taxi down the tarmac. Money ensures we get out of here fast, and I amend my time calculations as we take off. Still on schedule at least, even with Ely trying her best to fuck everything up.
I drag my attention back to her across the small polished table between our chairs. She's slumped in the seat, the belt cutting hard across her thin hip bones. She's still in the house uniform, but that's fine. No one important will see her until I’m ready for them to.
Once the pilot turns off the discreet seat belt sign by the entry door I lean my chair back as far as it will go and settle in for the eight-hour flight. A little fuck with the flight attendant might help my mood, but I don’t want to have to hire a new one before the trip home, so I leave it for now and just stare out the window until I drift off to sleep.
When I wake, the sky is dark outside the iced-over window. The lights are dim. My gaze catches on Ely, who is still slumped and sleeping in the opposite seat. Something eases in my chest like she might have managed to escape at thirty thousand feet, but she's still out, as I expected when I calculated how much of the medication to give her.
The flight attendant saunters down the aisle toward me with an exaggerated swish in her hips.
“Mr. Arturo.” Her voice is low and soft as she crouches next to my chair, her skirt riding high up on her thighs. “We'll be landing shortly. Your agent has confirmed the customs details are already handled.” I watch as she trails her manicured hand up my thigh. “Is there anything else I can do for you before we arrive?”
I shake my head, still a bit groggy. “No, thank you.”
She has no idea what kind of monster she's inviting to her bed right now. If I had more time, I'd show her, just to teach her the lesson. Fortunately for her, I don’t.
“Just make sure everything is quickly deplaned once we arrive. We are in a bit of a hurry.”
She nods once and gives me a last, lingering look. “As you wish, sir.”
It only takes about a half hour to deplane and carry Ely to the already waiting sedan. The traffic from the airport eats the time, though, and we arrive according to the original calculations I made.
It's fine because we are still on schedule. I throw Ely over my shoulder again and carry her through the posh London hotel lobby. This is a frequently used hotel for Pound of Flesh members, so no one bats an eye at my fireman carry as we move onto the elevator. I punch the button for the floor and stare straight ahead. The ride up is smooth, and when I step off the elevator, our room is right around the corner.
The door key card is in my luggage, courtesy of the travel agent. I grab it from the front pocket and get us into the room, our bags following us. Once situated, I wave the bellman off and shut the door, leaving him with a hefty tip in his hand.
The room is perfect, with sleek modern lines and glass from one end of the bedroom into the en suite bathroom. Even the small sitting room is glassed-in on one side, the better for seeing the London skyline in the distance. It’s dark now, but lights dance along the buildings, shining off the River Thames.
I breathe a sigh of relief now that we are here. So much is riding on this event—getting to Mondrake and convincing him to take over the Arturo holdings, all while hopefully leaving Bel out of it, of course, so I can cut ties and finally escape.
He's the only one with the power, the influence, and the interest to take over my family's holdings, and he can't say no. Even more so if I dangle Ely in front of his face. Rumor has it he has a thing for pretty, petite brunettes. It's why he attends the Pound of Flesh gathering every year. He likes them young and unattached to anything, or so I hear.
Ely, beholden to me and with her bastard family out of the picture, is the perfect bait.
8
Sebastian
Istand near the bed and strip out of my suit jacket while I stare down at her. Her beauty—that fragile, elfin sort of prettiness—is exactly what Mondrake likes. Big doe eyes that draw a man in, a cute button nose.
I draw in a deep breath. I understand the appeal.
She looks utterly breakable. Porcelain in a sea of crockery.
Once I toss my jacket over a small leather armchair, I undo the top couple of buttons of my dress shirt. It would probably be best if I change while Ely is getting ready. I blink back the haze of exhaustion lingering from yesterday, from the trip, from my fucking life. It’s time to get this shit show on the road. Gently, I shake her khaki-clad thigh.
She jolts but doesn’t open her eyes. I lean and tap her cheek gently with the side of my hand. The last thing I need is her flailing awake and hitting me in her confusion, but after a moment, it appears there isn’t another option since she’s not waking up as easily as I had hoped.
With another deflated sigh, I tap her cheek a bit harder, but not enough to put any sting into it. That must do the trick because she wakes with a startled gasp. She blinks her eyes open as she rolls over in the bed, a groan escaping her mouth as her gaze fastens on me.
“What the hell did you give me?”
I step away, putting distance between us. “That doesn’t matter. It’s time to get up. You might have a bit of a headache, but the upside is you probably won’t suffer any jet lag.”