Ruthless (The Clans Book 8)

by Elizabeth Knox

  I lean to his ear and nibble the lobe before I whisper to him. “Let me show you a good time. Let go.”

  He starts to relax a little as I buck into him, my thong soaked with my need for him. I am not much for foreplay, so I raise up again and move the string between us to the side before impaling myself with him, one glorious inch at a time. I can’t believe he was hiding this thick shaft under there and not even using it. What a waste.

  His hands land on my hips as I thrust them over him, wanting him to fill me up and leave me bruised. It’s best when it’s like that. I lean my head back and sigh with the feeling, losing myself so much I don’t realize I am being so rough that the chair can’t take it. We fall to the ground as the leg breaks off, and I swear I can’t stop because I am so close to cumming, his head scraping along my G-spot, but he plucks me off of him and stands up, his cock still hard and covered in my arousal, and scoops me up. He carries me roughly into the bedroom and throws me down, and I know that my control is over now. At least as far as this.

  For a moment, he stands over me and looks me up and down, and I wonder if he is going to leave me to my own devices despite his erection. But then he drops his pants and climbs onto the bed and reaches under my dress to slide it off. I look up at him, but he pushes me down slowly with one hand on my chest before sliding my thong off as well.

  He lays over me, his head at my entrance. I grit my teeth and bite my lip, trying to control myself because I am curious at how he is going to handle this. I have shown him what I am like in charge, but now I want to know what he is going to be like if I pledge the rest of my life to him.

  Surprisingly, as he slips in, he forces me to keep eye contact, his fingers grasping at my chin to hold it in place. It is the most exposed I have ever felt. It both makes me even wetter for him and scares the shit out of me.

  He rocks his hips into me at a gentle rhythm, but his thrusts are rough. It’s this strange combination of hard and soft, and I don’t know what to make of it because I don’t know men like this. Men either like to be sucked off or they are brutal as they pound into me. This kind of intimacy is entirely unknown to me, and as I shake and shiver, my insides pulsing around him, I find that I crave even more.

  Chapter 17

  Philippe

  Even now that I am back in Munich and trying to focus on business and wedding planning, I am not busy enough to get the night that Carla and I spent together out of my mind. Part of me knew even as we were doing it that it was wrong. I didn’t want to get so serious until I was sure that we were falling in love with each other. I wanted this big moment where I knew she was the one. I would give her the ring, and that would be that. But she caught me off guard in a way I did not expect when she slid across that table and into my lap. I may be a conservative man, but still a man, nonetheless.

  I slowly sip my whiskey as I take a break from the phone calls, dealing with bookings for so many things. I didn’t realize a wedding was this much work until I volunteered to take on the planning myself. This way, Carla can stay with her restaurant as long as possible before having to come to Munich with me, though that day is coming up quickly. And even if I am not head over heels for her yet, I find that I do miss her during this process.

  And the worst part is that all of this will have to be called off and thus the hard work will have been useless if this doesn't work out the way I expected.

  A knock comes at the door, but I leave it to my staff. It’s their job, anyway, but it’s my secretary, Luna, who is coming in to greet me. I haven't seen her or talked with her since I left again. She had a few assignments to keep her busy enough that she wouldn’t get so upset being off of work, but it probably wasn’t enough to keep her fully occupied.

  I put a smile on my face and try to seem like I care as she rattles about wanting to know how the wedding planning is coming and if I need any help. In truth, I could probably use a woman’s touch. "I am sure I can find something for you to do," I tell her. “It is a lot of work. Thank you for the offer, Luna."

  Her eyes dart around, and she looks a little nervous before stepping a little close to me for comfort. Something seems off about her right now, different, but I can’t place my finger on it just yet. "I am so sorry to bother you about this, but I think it’s something we need to talk about," she whispers, and I pull my right eyebrow up at her, unsure what could possibly have her acting like this. "I don’t know if you remember that night we had together when you came into town to see your mother..." she begins, and I am taken aback. What does she mean by night together? I don't even remember seeing her during that trip. I talked with her on the phone once, but that is all.

  "Well, because of that night together...I am pregnant," she says, and now I know she must be losing her mind.

  "What the fuck are you talking about?" I ask her, not in the mood to figure this out while I am trying to make sure things are ready for my fiancée to come live here permanently. I don’t have time for these kinds of games, especially from someone who I have trusted as part of my team for years now.

  "Oh, I guess that means you don’t remember," she says in a meek voice, looking down at the floor. "The night you came back for your mother. In your study...we were together,” she tells me.

  I narrow my eyes at her and cross my arms over my chest. "Why would I do that? I am an engaged man." She doesn’t need to know the details. I am pretty much spoken for, and I would not betray Carla unless things were officially called off. "Look, I don’t know what you think you're going to gain from this..." I stop as she bursts into tears.

  "I am sorry, I just thought something had really happened between us. I didn’t know what to think when you said nothing, but I thought maybe you would be calling the wedding off after you went back. I don’t know, my emotions are everywhere. Being pregnant is not easy," she says in between sobs. I pass her my handkerchief, unsure what else to do for now.

  I think back to that night and the morning after. All I remember is drinking and then waking up to that phone call from Carla before I had to go see my mother at the hospital with a hangover. Could it be possible I did something I don’t remember?

  "I thought you were a good man and that you cared about women and about me, for that matter!" she squeaks out, and if I don’t do something soon then she is going to make a scene I can’t afford. if she is telling the truth, I will have to tell Carla eventually. But she needs to hear it from me in a controlled environment, not from rumors because someone overhears this conversation and comes to their own conclusions.

  I sigh and bring her to sit down with me, to explain what happened after I make it clear to her I was drunk. That if something did happen, I remember none of it. I know from the words she uses that this is out of hand, and for all I know she could go public with this to make sure I have to pay her, and my family doesn’t need that kind of mark against us. Hell, the mafia doesn’t need that mark against us right now. Ion and Mariana would have my fucking head.

  "I want you to understand that there is nothing between us and that I am sorry a night I don’t remember came to this. I want you to think about what you want to do with this baby. If you want to keep it or not, and we can go from there. I will certainly help you to make sure you have the medical care you need if you decide to move forward and that the child is well taken care of," I assure her.

  "Of course, I am keeping it," she says. "I don’t take these things for granted." I nod as my stomach sinks, leaving a gaping hole where it belongs. How am I ever going to get Carla to understand about this?

  Chapter 18

  Carla

  Flying first class has its perks, and I feel like I am a princess on her way to her kingdom. I mean, I still don’t officially have that ring on my finger, but between the fact that the wedding date is quickly approaching and that things between Philippe and I have been much smoother than when we first gave this a go, I am assuming the ring is coming.

  It’s only a formality, anyway.

  I sip at my champ
agne as I relax into a movie I have never seen. The flight is a long one, and I intend to take full advantage of all the perks available to me.

  I sigh as my head relaxes into a small pillow I am given and smile at the idea of seeing Philippe. If nothing else, I get to jump his bones again like I did in our dining room.

  Though, there was a sour note to my visit. I was choosing to ignore it until I had to face it, but I had been dealing a lot with his assistant, Luna, over Skype and the phone since he went back to Munich. Apparently, she was helping a lot with the wedding plans, and she infuriated me to no end. She was one of those really annoying motherfuckers that just got under your skin by seeming to be so genuine, but you know better. Like maybe they are plotting your demise behind that big fake smile of theirs. But I am going to put my foot down about her once we are married. He can get a new assistant or forget about having one entirely. I don’t really care which. But Luna is not sticking around.

  Not over my fucking dead body.

  I pull out my phone and look at it as we get closer to Munich and see that I have a message from my brother, Sal, the only family that truly cares about me and my opinion.

  Have a safe flight, and let Aria or myself know if you need anything.

  I can’t help but smile at the concern. I know that Sal has pushed this marriage more than anything simply because he knows I want my freedom and because he wants me to be well protected in my adult life. He knows Philippe well enough to say with certainty that I will be given that protection as well as at least more freedom than my father offers. Here’s hoping he’s right.

  It does look like he just might be prepared to save my ass if things go bad at the last moment which comforts me more than I think he could understand. I don’t know how either of my parents produced the four of us to have Sal be so good and the rest of us hopeless wretches, but I am grateful for that one person to turn to that can actually get me out of a bind.

  I know that Nicola and Phoebe love me but have little chance of helping me if shit goes downhill.

  I take myself to the tiny bathroom on the plane just before I know we will be told to put our seat belts on. I want to freshen up. Not even the prettiest of women look good after a long flight like this.

  I have bags under my eyes and tangled hair to care for, and I slip on a classic look that I think will get Philippe’s attention. It’s all white and tight around my body, though it is only jeans and a blouse. My purple pumps stand out as the only pop of color, matching my lips today. I pull my long hair back into a high pony, keeping it out of my way for whatever he has planned, whether it be sightseeing or a roll in the hay.

  Then, I take my seat back on the plane as the light goes on and I have to pull the belt across my body. The landing is the worst part. It always feels like we could dive too far too fast and go crashing nose-first into the concrete. And then that bounce when the wheels finally touch the ground is jolting to the heart.

  I clutch my carryon to me, trying not to show my nerves to everyone around me. It’s one of the little flaws of mine that make me seem weak. I hate that kind of vulnerability when I am supposed to be the daughter of an assassin. I could chop a head off before anyone knows I am there, but somehow I am reduced to putty by a simple airplane ride.

  When I get off the plane, I half expect the person to be waiting for me inside the airport to be Luna or one of Philippe’s men, but instead, it is Philippe himself that greets me.

  At first, I think it is another one of his grand romantic gestures like that candlelit dinner, but as I look his face over and see that his smile does not reach his eyes, my heart thumps hard in my chest with worry.

  “You must be hungry after your flight. Let us get a bite to eat and catch up,” he says, and it is so formal, it stings. We had kept in contact over the phone when I wasn’t swamped with the restaurant, and I thought between that and before he left we had connected on some level. That we were closer than we had been. But his formal tone is cold now, and I don’t know what to think. He could very well have dragged me all the way here to end our engagement in person so that maybe the blow wouldn’t be so hard. He is the kind of old school man to do such a thing rather than letting me go via text message.

  My blood boils at the thought, though, and I swear to whoever the fuck is up there watching over us that I will slit this bitch from navel to nose if he does me dirty that way after I have tried so hard to be tame enough for him to handle me. My pussy is drying up it’s been so long for me since I have been with someone else so that I can make him happy that I am being faithful even though my view on monogamy is quite different than his.

  I have been meeting him in the fucking middle.

  He leads me to a small restaurant inside the airport where he has me order what I want, though my appetite is lacking with the anxiety that is building. It gets even worse as he leads me to the back to sit down where there won’t be any ears to hear us.

  This can’t be a good sign.

  “Okay, I want you to fucking spill what’s going on, Philippe. I can tell something is up, and I am not going to sit here and go through some sugar-coated lecture. If it’s over, send me packing so I can get it over with,” I tell him, leaning over the table and glaring at him.

  He nods solemnly. “I do not wish to send you packing, but I will not be surprised if what I have to say will make you want to leave me. I have waited to tell you in person because this is not a thing you tell someone over the phone, especially someone you are supposed to be marrying..” he trails off, and I tap my manicured nails against the table so that he knows time’s ticking. I am not going to let him babble on. I want answers.

  “After coming back to Munich this time I found out something. Something I was not expecting. I have never been purposefully unfaithful to anyone, nor would I, especially you, Carla.” I hiss through my teeth because I can almost feel where this is going. “But there is a night I just do not remember, and I am told it has led to a pregnancy.”

  “What the fuck!” I whisper-scream, trying not to draw the attention of those around us but damn close to not caring right now. What the hell does he mean he got someone pregnant? And he doesn’t remember? What a fucking hypocrite!

  “Who is she, Philippe? How the fuck did this happen and somehow you don’t know? Have you any proof?”

  He shakes his head. “It is too early for a paternity test, and besides, I have no reason not to believe her. It is Luna, my secretary. I got drunk the night I came back for my mother, much more than I ever have before. I don’t even remember her being there, but she came to me crying letting me know I got her pregnant.” He sighs and looks genuinely ashamed, but he has no idea what this is doing to me. On the inside, I feel humiliated and knocked down several rungs. I don’t expect him to be in love with me, but it is a matter of respect. Especially after all the assumptions he made about me and my lifestyle in the beginning. And on top of that it’s this bitch I can’t stand that claims she is carrying his offspring. Which I can’t ignore will have a claim to the mafia Clan throne over any child I might or might not bear to him now.

  “So, you fucking got drunk and knocked up your secretary?” I ask him for clarity. At first, his face goes red, and he looks furious at the way I have said it, but the color dissipates just as fast and is replaced with a blank slate. He knows he fucked up at least, but I don’t know where that leaves us. I have no idea how we are going to progress after this.

  “Yes,” is all he says.

  I just nod and stand up, walking towards the exit without another word. I don’t have anything I can say to this right now. I am hurt, but it gives him too much power to let him know that. And I have to stay with him if I want my freedom, So, what the fuck choice do I have but to suck it up and deal?

  Though, I will be dealing with it my own way. He is going to regret having acted this way.

  ***

  I should have been enjoying the sights of the new city as we took the car to his home, but instead, I kept seeing in my
head all the ways I could punish him and Luna for their indiscretions. I have no doubt in my mind she has done this on purpose. She is not innocent in this, and I will make that known the first time she shows her face to me.

  We walk into his house, and I have to admit it has a charm to it. It has that old world feel but is gorgeously decorated. It smells of apple and cinnamon.

  But I can’t enjoy it for long as we enter the living room, and there the bitch is, waiting for us. I swear I can even see the beginnings of a bump in her stomach, and I am fucking livid. If I wasn’t seeing red before, I am now.

  I go straight for her, dropping my carryon and not thinking of anyone or anything else in the goddamn room.

  She doesn’t see me coming until it is too late, and everyone else is too stunned to make a move against me as I pick that little whore up by her neck and hold her against the wall. I am right in her face so she can smell my rank airplane breath and feel what it’s like to be this close to death by me.

  “I want you to fucking know that the only reason you are still alive is because you have a child growing inside you, and I am no baby killer. But as soon as that child is out of your womb, I am going to hunt you down wherever you fucking go and kill you with my bare hands.”

  I smile as I see she looks terrified, finally realizing who she has fucked around with.

  “Carla!” Philippe barks at me, and I answer him with a growl like a rabid dog before I lower Luna to the ground as slowly as possible. She begins to cough and holds her throat dramatically, but she does the right thing by seeing herself out without a word. So, I turn my attention to him, my hands crossed over my chest.

  “Why the hell are you surprised or upset by my actions? You knew what this would do to us, to our reputation, to our engagement. You fucking knew, you asshole!” I pick up a half drank glass of whiskey and throw it at him, splashing it all over his nice shirt. I know how he hates to see his designer clothes ruined.