by Mason, V. F.
Isla slaps her chest, scribbling something on her notepad and then practically shoving it into my face.
I applied for you.
My eyes almost bulge out of their sockets at this, because she’s never interfered in my business life, preferring to let me handle all the shitstorms on my own.
In her opinion, everyone has to learn to deal with their own problems alone or they won’t ever learn.
Wait.
They had a position open and accepted applications? Since freaking when? This news would have travelled with lightning speed in the botanic group we have online.
“And it so happens that I decided to work on Kaden Lachlan Scott’s mansion. He likes rare orchids, and that’s your specialty, right?” he asks.
I blink again and jump in place, excitement filling every bone.
Lachlan freaking Scott? As in one of the richest guys on the planet who owns a Victorian-style mansion with a maze and so many examples of beautiful, green forms of art, I could stare at the pictures forever?
My hands are itching just at the prospect of touching some of the gardens he possesses. “It is.”
“Right. How would you like to get on board for that project?”
Is he serious right now? “I’d say tell me when I can start, and I’m all yours.” The minute the words slip past my lips, I want to knock my head against the wall, and Isla bursts out laughing, falling onto the couch while I flip her off, because it’ll be a miracle if this guy gives me a job.
“All mine, huh?” There is something in his voice that nags my mind, but I quickly brush it aside when he continues. “My assistant will call you with all the details.”
“Thank y—” But the line is already dead as he hangs up on me without further ado.
I’m drunk off my ass, my fiancé cheated on me with my sister, and I just got a job at CaMacRae Gardens to work on Lachlan Scott’s garden.
Life truly is full of surprises.
Callum
I throw the phone on the table and immediately focus my attention back on the man sitting in front of me.
He is wearing a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, and his metal cane swirls as he plays it back and forth in his hands. His crystal-clear blue eyes focus their stare on me as if searching for my weakness, but I give none away.
Nothing but boredom crosses my expression when I say, “So we have a deal?”
He sips a little from his whiskey glass, the ice cubes clinking against each other while he ponders over my request. One might think that the blond man currently occupying the chair in my penthouse office is a businessman who thrives on striking the best deal for himself.
Only few truly know what hides beneath the icy exterior, and God help those who try to cross him.
There is only one king in the underground of this town, and that’s Lachlan Scott.
One of the reasons I permanently reside in Houston, is that I never learned to share the power.
“I don’t come to Texas to make deals, Callum. Why do you feel you can come to New York and make a deal with me?” He twists the glass and then takes another sip, his stare still on me.
My pose stays completely relaxed though, as I rest my elbow on the chair and blow a puff of smoke between us.
Not a muscle flickers on his face either, but then you don’t have two serial killers in the same room and expect fucks or fear from them, do you? “I’m special like that. One of a kind.”
He chuckles, although it barely holds any amusement. “You want my mansion and my city for an indefinite amount of time.”
“A month is hardly indefinite, Lachlan.” I press the butt into the ashtray and fish for another one, the urge for another hit of nicotine never-ending.
I light up my cigarette while he continues his speech, not giving two shits about my words. “And you expect me to comply with this…”
He clicks his fingers several times, and I supply, “Request?”
“Demand,” he says instead, and throws the glass against the wall, where it shatters into tiny little pieces, not that either of us pay attention to that. “You are no one here, Callum. The only reason you are still alive is because I’m generous. Don’t overstep your welcome.”
He leans back, and I know he waits for my next move.
All this is just like a chess game where he dashes pawn after pawn, while expecting me to submit my queen and knights.
Too bad for him I’m not one of those serial killers who worships the ground he walks on because he took them in like lost puppies.
I make my own motherfucking rules. “I’ll give you the Stunning Ranch.”
Interest flickers in his blue orbs, but his face shows me nothing. “I hardly need cattle.”
“I specialize in horses,” I singsong, and then pass the lighter between my fingers, taking greedy pulls from my cigarette. “It brings in around fifteen million dollars yearly, give or take.”
“I’ll give you fifteen million myself if I don’t have to see your cocky ass here.”
I chuckle, choking on the smoke, and point the cigarette at him. “Good one. Too bad that’s not an option.”
“You don’t have options, Callum.”
Fury zaps through me, but I control the urge to fish for my knife and stab him right in his smug face, only because his tone grates on my nerves and annoys me to no end.
But he is fucking right. In this fucking town, I have no options unless he grants me one.
“Name the price, Lachlan.” My voice turns cold, cutting all the bullshit, because I’ve had enough of this game. We could do this all day long, but I have no time for it.
People to kill, bodies to bury, and a woman to hunt. A man simply can’t waste his time much these days.
He rubs his chin with his cane, which no doubt has a knife underneath the metallic head, and finally speaks up, a smug smile curving his lips. “I want Alison.”
My body freezes, and I summon all my will into my fist, restraining the fury that threatens to unleash. “No fucking way.”
He nods. “Well, then there is no deal.”
Fucking asshole.
“I hunted for her for years. She was in horrid condition when I finally found her and made her into the beauty she is. And you want to waltz in and take her from me now that she’s ready to show off? Fuck you, Lachlan.”
He waves his hand at me, as if dismissing my words all together. “Your obsession with your boat doesn’t interest me. The yacht is one of the most expensive and prestigious things on the market. Micaden confirmed it for me.” I should have known the asshole couldn’t be trusted with my yacht without spilling the beans to everyone else. “Agree to the deal with me, and the town is yours for the month.” He waits a beat, and then, “Rules apply, of course.”
Yeah, the fucker wants my yacht and then hangs his fucking rules on me. “Then I have my own condition.”
“You are in no position to throw conditions,” he muses, but too bad for him, I don’t give a shit.
“Arson won’t babysit me.”
Lachlan laughs, getting up and shaking his head. “He will, because after me, he has the power. I’ll be in Paris for the time being.” Right, because now he operates in cities due to his private life.
“I didn’t agree to the deal,” I say, exhaling smoke into his face, but he doesn’t even wince.
Just grins sinisterly while plastering his palms on the table and leaning forward. “How much do you want Giselle Walker, Callum?” He leans back then strolls to the door, and without turning around says, “Think about that before spitting another word at me. And message me your decision. Quite frankly, I don’t want to hear your voice in the near future.” And with that, he steps outside, shutting the door loudly behind him.
King of New York indeed.
Because as much as I want Alison… nothing compares to the need to own Giselle Walker and become her greatest nightmare as I drag her to the underworld with me.
I can restore another yacht, but I can’t find
another Giselle.
My little prey… the game just started, and you’ve already cost me so much.
But all debts will be paid.
I have no doubt about it.
Chapter Four
Giselle, 14 years old
Dusting off my gardening gloves, I wrap my hand around the spade and press on it with my foot, digging into the ground, and huff in exasperation, “Freaking heat.” The ground is so dry all my force is not enough to dig a hole to plant new flowers.
I try again, and while it cracks a little under pressure, it still brings me no results. So I push the spade aside and grab a hose, spraying the area and wetting it as much as possible, all while admiring the garden around me.
Grandfather’s manor has sure grown into a huge-ass estate in the last five years, and I can’t help but puff my chest proudly at that. Where once there was nothing but land with perfectly cut grass… is now a miracle garden, as it’s called.
Various rose bushes and lilies are spread over the five acres, in all the colors of the rainbow, which brighten up the darkness of the manor that is always shrouded in the shadow from the trees on the back of the house.
Several alcoves are spread around with comfortable benches to read on while the purple wisterias dangle through the roofs, sending a sweet scent through the spaces.
Combined with a few trees and narrow concrete paths that each lead to different gates or secluded places on the land… the garden could have been taken straight from a book about magical creatures.
“Nothing will grow here.”
Darius’s, our butler, voice snaps me from admiration of my work, and I turn to him, winking. “We’ll see.” He laughs but then coughs a little, and my brows furrow when I notice traces of blood on his tissue. “Are you all right?”
He waves his hand and walks closer. “Don’t worry about me, child. It comes with age.”
I roll my eyes at this and switch the pressure a little on the hose, and then point it far away, wanting to wet the ground around too.
“This stubbornness of yours will be your undoing one day. Mark my words,” Darius proclaims, knocking with the tip of his shoe on the ground, inspecting it. “This particular spot has always been dry. Even your momma didn’t manage to help it.”
My heart pangs painfully at the mention of her, squeezing inside my chest so hard it’s difficult to breathe, but I exhale heavily, reminding myself that part of her is still with me. And that’s the unconditional love for creating something beautiful with flowers. Giving even the darkest of places meaning with the beauty nature granted us. “I think she’d have been on my side on this.”
“Hard to argue with that.” He ruffles my hair, and I duck my head, avoiding the touch.
“I’m not little anymore.”
“For us, you always will be, kiddo.” The love lacing his voice warms me from head to toe, because even though sometimes the most awful of things happen in this life, life shows a way to soothe it.
My mom died from pneumonia six years ago, because she didn’t go to the hospital to treat it. I didn’t know it then, but we could barely afford food, let alone health insurance. We lived in a small apartment with a broken heater on the outskirts of Nashville, and Mom constantly created wild stories for us to stay under the blanket.
Yet I can’t remember happier times in my life.
Social services found my closest relative, my dad’s dad, who happened to be a rich man in his fifties and he possessed one of the most sought-after manors in the city. He agreed to take me in, and that’s how I came here.
At first, I would cry at night all the freaking time, and Darius came to the rescue, reading me stories until one day it stopped.
Because Grandfather forbids mingling with the help. It’s not good for Walkers to interact so much with the workers.
It’s a load of bullshit, but no one goes against his orders.
I have firsthand knowledge of what happens when you disrespect the family name. Shivers rush through me, and unconsciously I rub my wrists, still remembering the sting of bruised skin from the chain.
Shaking my head from bad memories that have no place in the present, I reply cheerily, “Yeah, well, only four more years before I move out.” My stomach flips, only because uneasiness flashes through me at the prospect of leaving Darius and Lydia, my grandfather’s housekeeper.
Amusement lights up his eyes, the wrinkles underneath them becoming more visible, and for the hundredth time, I wonder why Grandfather still keeps him on and won’t let him rest on his ranch in Texas. “Sure, kiddo. You’ll be the best florist this city has ever seen.”
“Well—” My cheeks heat up, but before I can thank him for his kind words, loud voices arguing interrupt us.
We share a look, and he stands in front of me, almost pushing me behind his back as if wanting me to avoid this conversation.
But since the people arguing have moved into the living room, which opens directly onto the terrace leading to the garden, there is no avoiding hearing them.
“Get the hell out of here, Marvin.”
“She is my child, Father. Mine! You can’t keep her away from me forever.” There is the sound of a cane hitting the floor, which means Grandfather has moved closer to the speaker and is about to threaten him. “She is my granddaughter. I have custody of her.”
My brows furrow at this, while I blink in confusion and try to study the strange man better through the window.
Are they talking about me? But why would he say I’m his child if my father died when I was little? One of the reasons Grandfather never spoke about him and always told me to keep my mouth shut.
This also explains why everyone at school thinks we aren’t blood related.
“Not for long. She is mine!”
“Well, she was yours fourteen years ago, but that didn’t stop you from marrying Martina,” Grandfather snaps, and I gasp while Darius curses.
“Come on, Giselle. Go to your room.” He wraps his arm around me, shifting me to the side so I’ll go in through the back door, but I’m having none of it.
I dip under his grip and step back, still focusing on the two men as I walk toward them, my heart pounding in my chest so much I feel it in my throat.
Meanwhile the arguing continues. “You took them away from me.”
Grandfather snorts, hitting the floor with the cane again. “Please, her mother was a good-for-nothing, maid in our garden. Did you think I’d ever allow you to be with her?”
I finally have a good view of the man and halt my movements, taking him in.
He has the same brown hair and sapphire eyes that I do, but his complexion is paler than mine, and he is so tall he even looms above Grandfather. Even though Grandfather still manages to have a bigger presence than him.
“You had no right to take Giselle.”
“Darius and I will raise her better.” He waits a beat and then adds, “She is his granddaughter, too, after all.”
I reel to the side from the impact of his words, and the porcelain figurine next to me falls from the table onto the floor, shattering into pieces.
Just like my heart does.
Both men turn their heads to me while Darius rushes inside the room. Their shocked expressions would look almost comical if the situation wasn’t so tragic.
Ignoring reason, I rest my eyes on my father and he does the same, his face reflecting different emotion—from regret to wonder and then something else I can’t name. “You’re alive?” I ask a stupid question, because he clearly is, but I need to make sure.
“Where is Daddy, Mommy?”
“He’s no longer with us, sweetheart. A monster took him away.”
So all that time, Mom lied? How could she have done it to me?
“My God” is all he says before he almost runs to me and encloses his arms around me, enveloping me in a hug so strong I almost can’t breathe.
His scent, the mix of tobacco and whiskey, instantly surrounds me and oddly enough gives me peace I’ve
never known before.
He places his hand on my head, continuing to rock me in his arms, back and forth while humming a little as if I’m a child. “Everything is going to be okay now, Giselle,” he assures me, like I should be relieved with this information.
But that’s when I catch Grandfather’s stare that narrows on us, and he shoots a glance to Darius, who has his mouth covered with his gloved hand—in despair or shock, I’m not sure.
And that became the beginning of an even bigger nightmare.
Callum
Whistling loudly, I grab onto the metal bars and climb up, my leather shoes clicking against them, all while the room is cloaked in silence, filled with only barely audible whimpers.
Sometimes I’ll stop, hoping one of those victims will surprise me, but tonight is not the time.
After all, there’s fun even in the predictable.
Stepping onto the ground, I grin widely at the man standing at the edge of the diving platform, mumbling something through the gag in his mouth as he tugs wildly on the ropes wrapped around his middle, imprisoning him in a tight hold he can never break.
“Alesio.” I open my arms wide. “My dear friend. Long time no see.”
He shakes his head, mumbling something again. His expression could be called pleading with how he scrunches his eyes filled with terror and works his mouth around the gag.
Hilarious shit, really.
I reach for the knife in my back pocket, gripping it between my thumb and index finger so it showcases in the best of light for him. “Sorry it took me this long to come back. Had to find this. Do you know what it is?” He starts to shake, stepping back a little, and I tsk with my tongue. “Nah-ah-ah. I’d be careful moving, Alesio. One more step and you’ll fall into the pool.” The pool chooses this time to blare a sound; several light bubbles echo in the space while the glistening water shines brightly in the dim light.
Not a soul in sight, I almost sigh with contempt.
“Where was I? Ah yes, the knife. It’s a blade, made out of the finest steel and coated with snake venom.” He freezes, his eyes hectically jumping between the weapon and me, while I continue to enlighten him on a subject he will never appreciate.