Forbidden Sensations: A Dark Romance by Savannah Rose (e book reader pc TXT) 📕

Stiller, and once Reliant was swallowed whole by United Insurance, International, RNR Limited became – for lack of a fancy term – a squatter. Our contract was terminated.

Rebecca went into a deep, dark place from which I couldn't pull her out. The meager health care Leslie did have was canceled entirely. Within three months, she died. Two months later, Rebecca took her own life, and I entered a hell I could not ever have imagined.

I remember the night I made my decision. It was the night following Rebecca's funeral. It was well attended, former customers and shareholders. Family I didn't know or recognize. Larry wasn't there because he was a gold-plated dickhead, and when they lowered my sister into the ground, beside her daughter, it occurred to me.

There should be another grave.

One with Maddox's body stuffed in it.

Murder was a big word, however, Maddox Petersen had no business walking around in his billion dollar lifestyle while my sister and niece lay in cold graves as a result of his greed.

Martin Stiller was on my fantasy to-be-axed list, as well, but it was when I was sitting on my couch, still in my black dress, clicking through the television channels like some sort of lobotomized zombie when I determined to focus my efforts on ending prince Petersen's life.

His smug, hatefully handsome face appeared on the screen, Bloomberg's stock ticker crawling beneath him. If I'd had a gun at that point I'd have pulled an Elvis and shot it. Instead, I turned up the volume.

A reporter had asked him about their endeavors with the now-defunct RNR, and if he knew that one of the two founders had killed herself.

He shook his head in mock remorse, and used the time as an impromptu commercial.

“We regret to hear of her passing, but, we must continue to live in the moment, with an eye on the future,” he said, his eyes locked on the teleprompter.

That was my line. My fucking line. I'd come up with that, along with the image of a lone, elderly woman with a bittersweet smile gazing out at the ocean. At sunset. Petersen & Stiller had passed on it for their proposed advertising campaign, or so I was told.

A week after my words left his mouth, the feel-good slogan about eying the future while living in the moment (the elderly woman replaced by a super model with big tits and perfect hair) hit the airwaves. Petersen & Stiller stock rose fifteen points.

I took the last of my inheritance, and bought a gun.

Martin Stiller was off my hit list. I couldn't be bothered with Maddox's crony. Besides, one of the sympathy cards I received had his signature on it.

I spent an exorbitant amount of time studying Maddox's movements, his schedule, scoping his building and doing online research at the local coffee house. Barney's Beans had free WiFi, and since my service had been cut off, my laptop and I took our clandestine operative there.

And for all my research, all my pain, all the sweet, sweet revenge I was going to take…

I looked down at my hands, bound together with Maddox Petersen's god damn fucking tie. It was the same tie he wore at his Bloomberg press conference.

I got up off the toilet, and went to the mirror.

The reflection staring back at me was my sister's.

Chapter Five

MADDOX

“What the hell happened to your face?”

“Don't start with me, Martin. Just don't,” I said, making my way toward the desk. It was too early, I didn't sleep at all, and my cheek was burning.

I ripped open the top drawer, pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen, and swallowed three of them. I didn't feel like sitting, so I crossed the room, moving over to the window and stared down at the city. Five floors above me, the crazy bandita was still locked in my bathroom, probably trying to think of ways to successfully kill me.

Martin took a long draw from his coffee, and stared at my cheek. “No means no, bro,” he said.

“It's not what you're thinking. Forget what you're thinking, alright? I tripped. Cracked my face on the dresser, so just shut the fuck up.”

“You don't want me to shut up, Maddox. I have so much to tell you,” he winked, sat across from my desk, and crossed one leg over the other. He wasn't wearing any socks and his ankles looked like a glowing porcupine poking out.

“That's disgusting,” I said, pointing to his feet. “Nobody wants to see your stupid, hairy ankles, Martin.”

“Shanna Ryan would tell you different, partner. We had lots and lots to talk about after your little performance last night.”

He didn't know shit about my performance last night. The one in the penthouse, anyway.

I touched the cut on my cheek, thinking I really should have had stitches, but it was too late for that now. Enough ointment and with luck, this thing would heal right up. Well, that’s if I could bother with ointment. There was hardly anything I could focus on that didn’t involve the English speaking Latina. I can't believe she faked a fucking seizure. Moreover, I couldn't believe I fell for it. I don't fall for anything.

Martin swirled his coffee around, and I just knew he was looking at me with that self-satisfied smirk.

“As per usual, I apologized for your behavior. Told her your mother was going through cancer treatments and you were operating on thirty six hours of no sleep.”

Well, at least that last part was partially true. There was no way I could get an ounce of shut eye with the alleged 'Sofia' sitting nearly buck naked in my bathroom. She kept fucking with the bidet, all night long, too. Spritz, spritz, spritz. Like some psychotic cat who found a particularly intriguing bouncy toy.

I was going to tell her to knock it the fuck off, but I knew that would just make her do it more.

“Shanna said she understood. She had an aunt who got