FIVE YEARS LATERDAMIEN “REAPER” VOSS“It’s the sixteenth.” My lighter flicks open, flame snapping bright. The guy kneeling at my feet flinches like I’m about to torch him. Pathetic. My men hold him down while he spits excuses.“Your money’s coming, Reaper, I swear—”I sigh. Loud. “That’s what you said last month.” I snap the lighter shut, let the silence chew him up. “So tell me—am I stupid, or are you suicidal?”He stammers. I don’t listen. I’m already irritated I even had to show up for this. Normally, I send Bones, my Sergeant-at-Arms, to shake down debtors. But it’s either this or be at my old cranker’s house, listening to him lecture me about Wendy Osborne.The heiress who keeps throwing herself at me like I’m her goddamn prize. Out of all people, she could’ve chased Christian—the polished twin, the safe one, the one our old man parades around. But no. She wants me.Can’t say I blame her. Exceptional taste and all. But become a pawn in a marriage to link two rich families? Hard
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