Simon jumps up from the bed and takes a stumbling step back. His hair is even more disheveled than before and his eyes are bright and wild. He glances at his shoulder and then lifts his hand up, his fingers exploring the wound I inflicted. The blood stain on his shoulder started small but is growing and growing.

I yank my hands hard but the handcuffs hold.

Fuck. I can’t believe he cuffed me to a fucking bed.

“This is completely unnecessary, Simon, and uncalled for,” I try to say calmly but I’m too damn pissed.

His hand drops and his eyes snap to me. “I know. The situation calls for a cage, but alas, I don’t have one on hand.”

My rage is palpable. I fume, yanking and yanking, but the only thing I manage to do is hurt myself in the process. A cage? A cage? Is he insinuating that I’m an animal?

“Let me go!” I scream at him. “You can’t fucking do this to me.”

“I can do anything I want. You’re in my house now, princess.”

He turns and starts walking away from me.

“Fuck you!” I scream and all my anger, all my rage bubbles forth. “I fucking hate you, Simon! I hate you,” I scream and scream, even as the door slams behind him.

I thought I hated Matthew the most in this world, but Simon just placed himself at the top of my shit list.

I’ll never fucking forgive him for this. And… fuck… he’s going to pay for this.



Why not go to a strip club? It’s going to be fun! We can watch the dancers, soak in the atmosphere, have a drink, and while the time away having a blast.

Except strip clubs are germ central. The dancers have STDs, the atmosphere smells like piss and old sex, and the drinks are watered-down.

Sure, this is going to be everything I could possibly hope for in a night out on the town. Diseases and piss. How entertaining. But if this is what will appease the princess, then she shall have her night out on the town. I’ll make sure she gets her fill of strip clubs.

Kill two birds with one stone type of thing.

Lucifer never said I couldn’t bring company with me when I inspect the properties.

“You know, for such a big SUV, you certainly are small for it,” Meredith says with a honey-laden sweetness.

She’s needling me. It must be her only weapon in life, her sharp tongue.

“When I have to carry large loads, it works just fine, Meredith.” I say and refocus my attention on the lights around us.

“Excuse me?” she asks in a tight tone. “What did you just say?”

“I need quiet, Meredith. I need to focus on the road.”

Fucking Princess with a capital P. I don’t really need to focus on the road, I know exactly where I’m going. But if it keeps her quiet, I won’t complain. It’s hard enough to focus with the proximity of her scent already getting to me.

It’s back again, the smell of barely used perfume, so light and airy, but too faint to know what it is.

I’d shake my head or try to roll the knots that are forming in my shoulders if I didn’t think she’d see that instantly as a weakness. I can feel her almost animalistic need to pounce on any sign of weakness. She wants to be the top too much for her own good, and in truth a good solid spanking would probably do nothing but make her meaner.

The way her body shifts in her seat though is driving me to desperate measures. Every time we pass under an overhead street light, I get glimpses of those long crossed legs. She should have worn a pant suit for the weather we are in. Her short, dark skirt barely reaches the midway point between her thighs and knees. She is completely irresponsible. The top under her coat shows far more skin than is needed.

Any neanderthal will now be able to ogle her to their heart’s content.

Everything she is wearing is dark. The high-heeled shoes, pantyhose, tight short skirt, tight fitting top, and heavy coat.

All that dark clothing and now she has pale blonde hair to go with it. Gone is the black silky hair. In its stead is a woman who looks like she belongs right beside Lucifer in the family business.

Too beautiful to be real—that’s the best way to describe her facial features. Even if she were to shave her head, she would still be the most stunning woman I have ever seen.

She’s stunning and the most infuriatingly stubborn woman I have ever met.

Does she know that every time she moves or fidgets, my mind can’t help but think of her? Does she know about the cameras I use every night to watch over her? To keep her safe and sound?