Undressed By His Arrogance-Chapter 299: Do You Still Want It?

He stood there for a moment, hands loose at his sides. This was the woman who had killed his sister. Who had thought herself untouchable.

Not anymore.

Winn stepped closer.

"Hello, Mrs. Kane," Winn said, the smile on his face calm enough to be unsettling.

Sharona’s eyes fluttered open—or tried to. One was swollen nearly shut, the other barely a slit, purpled and tender. Still, she didn’t need full vision to recognize him. His presence filled the room the way a storm fills the sky: inevitable, charged.

"Winn..." she whispered.

"I thought you might like to be called that," he replied mildly, pulling a chair closer and turning it so he could sit facing her. "Seeing as you once loved the name. Do you still? Do you still want it, Sharona?"

Her throat worked as she swallowed. Chains clinked softly when she shifted, a reminder she didn’t have to look down to feel. "I’m sorry," she croaked. "I’m really sorry, Winn. Please. Get me out of here."

He studied her the way one might study a puzzle they’d already solved, fingers lacing loosely together. "I’d buy that," he said conversationally, "if I didn’t know you." A beat. Then softer, more intimate. "Sharona... I didn’t think this was possible, but I am going to have the sweetest satisfaction killing you. Gosh," he added with a humorless chuckle, "it’s almost like an orgasm."

Her mouth twisted despite herself. Even now, even like this, she reached for arrogance and pride. "You don’t have the balls, Winn," she rasped. "You and I both know that."

"See, you would have been right," he said. "Once. But you... you and Tom turned me into this." His eyes darkened, sharpening. "But you specifically. You dared what no one should have dared."

"I’m ambitious," Sharona said hoarsely, desperation seeping through the cracks now. "But look... whatever you are now, you’re still a good person deep inside." She coughed, wincing. "You always were."

"As always," Winn said lightly, "great performance." He stopped, ticking points off on his fingers. "You had Ivy kidnapped. You had Ivy raped. You had Ivy stabbed. You had Ivy run over with a car. You had Sylvia killed."

The chains at Sharona’s wrists rattled as she shifted.

"All of that," Sharona said hoarsely, lifting her chin a fraction, "except the last two."

"You are saying you didn’t shoot Sylvia?" he asked.

"I wasn’t aiming for her," Sharona replied. Her breathing hitched, but she forced the words out. "I was aiming for Ivy. She knew too much. My clients wanted her gone—and they still do. They’re not finished."

"I’ll deal with that," he said flatly. "You didn’t have your bulldog, Peter, run her down?"

"No," Sharona answered, then steadied herself. "That wasn’t me."

"I don’t believe you."

"Doesn’t matter. What matters is this—if you kill me, Ivy remains in danger."

"Funny," he said softly. "Peter said the same thing right before I killed him."

That finally shook her. She tried to meet his eyes, really look at him, and what she saw there wasn’t the man she once manipulated or the man she once tried to control.

"How did you become this?" she asked. "You’ve become Tom. I must say... it makes you even hotter."

"You have the chance to do one good thing in your miserable life, Sharona. One."

He leaned down until they were eye level. "Tell me what I need to know."

"I told Everest," Sharona said, clinging to bravado, "I am not talking. We had a deal."

"You are delusional," Winn replied evenly, "if you actually think you will see the light of day ever again."

Sharona laughed, a thin, cracked sound. "You’ve let Ivy cloud your transactional skills, Winn." She tilted her head, eyes narrowing beneath the swelling. "You think she’s the only one you need to worry about? Ivy was just a wrench in the plan. An inconvenience. She was never truly factored in."

"Your life was a mess long before Ivy came along," Sharona continued, feeding on his silence. "Wheels were already turning before I ever got involved." She leaned forward as much as the chains allowed. "Open your eyes. Use your brain. Let me go, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know."

He smiled.

"Not happening."

He got up from the chair, breaking eye contact, and walked toward the metal table set against the far wall. It was cluttered with objects meant to torture. He ignored most of them, his hand passing over steel until he selected a single knife.

"See, Sharona," he said over his shoulder, "I wanted you to experience exactly what Ivy did." He paused, glancing back at her. "I was going to ask all the men up there to fuck you until the life drained out of you, but knowing you, you’d probably enjoy it."

He walked back to her slowly, flicking the knife between his fingers, the motion casual, practiced, the metallic glint catching the light with each turn.

"If you are trying to scare me, it’s not working," Sharona said. Even bruised, chained, and half-blind from swelling, she managed to tilt her chin with that familiar arrogance.

"That’s disappointing. I want you to feel afraid," Winn said calmly, "to feel fear—but not fear of me." He crouched slowly in front of her, bringing himself down to her level again. "Fear of Ivy."

Sharona’s brows drew together despite the swelling. He continued before she could interrupt.

"And the irony?" he added, a dark hint of humour curling his mouth. "The girl is so goddamned good she’d probably help you escape. She’d bandage your wounds. She’d tell herself you deserved mercy." He shook his head softly. "That’s who she is. That’s why I will never let you anywhere near her again."

"Right. Let’s do that instead. Get her down here. Apparently women are the only ones who think with their brains, yet somehow we’re the emotional ones? You boys are fucking clueless. I can help. Don’t you get it?"

"It will be a cold day in hell," Winn replied evenly, "when I ask for your help. Tell me what I need to know, Sharona," he said quietly. "I’m not making a deal with you."