“That was a warning, sir. Get up, and get out.” No sooner do those words pass through Aurora’s lips than we hear police sirens. They are close. The office is at the front of the compound, not far from the parking lot and main road. The closer they get, the more he panics and scrambles to get up, only to fall once more, hitting his face this time as he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open. “And we will be pressing charges. See you in court.”
With difficulty, he pushes himself up and stands. He’s facing us, but not really focused. “I’ll be back. This isn’t the end, and my slut of a wife will pay for this.”
After that, he left, body stumbling into the wall beside the door before managing to exit, still screaming, insulting us, and then not a single trace left for the cops to find.
None of our cameras caught sight of him past the front door. He disappeared.
No blood. No body. Nada.
These occurrences aren’t really the norm with us. Most men don’t want cops involved or looking their way and approach the women in a softer manner. Some fall for the fake repentance, some don’t, but we defend ourselves either way. This also makes me think that Aurora’s still being watched.
Or is it me?
Callum gave me his word—that he’d respect my wishes for a few weeks, but did he?
But more importantly, I’m not upset if he hasn’t. The last seven days while stressful, have been pleasant in a way I’m not used to. My father has left me alone since that text, and no more harassing crap from Giannis as I know the truth and our friendship grows. Instead, I’m coming and going with more ease, and I don’t want to go back to the way it was before.
“Amen, chica.” Aurora cranes her neck back and closes her eyes. “I was seconds away from turning to a life of heavy drinking and a full-time hermit career.”
At that I snort, ignoring the vibrations inside of my pants pocket. It’s a little after three in the afternoon and I know it’s Callum, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. If she hasn’t told me about Casper, then I’m keeping Callum a secret.
Besides, it’s kind of fun. The secret messages and the naughty phone calls. The picture of him shirtless and joggers pushed below mid-thigh while he gripped his cock; a picture now forever inside a private folder locked under a passcode.
“Aye.” It slips out, and my cheeks burn. What the hell? “I hear ya.”
“You a pirate now?” A spa worker comes over with another mimosa on a tray and we each take one, smiling at the girl. When she leaves, my best friend looks over with a raised brow. “Have you been watching Pirates of the Caribbean again? Your obsession with the male actors in those movies is highly—”
“Shut it, and guilty.”
“You look guilty.”
“So do you, bestie.” I waggle my brows. “I’m still waiting for the play by play of lover boy’s trip here. When are you going to spill?”
“I already did.” She rolls her eyes, and I want to flick her forehead. “You know he came, and we spent a few days together. We went out on dates, ate, and there was plenty of the good stuff I’m not sharing about.”
“How can I live vicariously through you if you deny me the juicy details?”
“How about you tell me about Giannis instead? Is he still following you around like a lost puppy?”
Immediately, I want to defend him—correct her—but that wouldn’t help the low profile we’ve decided to maintain. Giannis came to me after Callum left and we talked; he explained himself and the situation fully, and I’m so grateful to have him in my corner.
I’ve also seen pictures of him with the boyfriend. The goofy smiles they both wear when together, and if I can help make things easier on him, then why not? We are two people stuck in a tough position and deserve a break. To be happy.
“You know it. I’m almost tempted to say yes just to get it over with.” The lie feels wrong, but I can’t tell her what’s going on. The less people involved, the better, and besides, if her father plans to help mine in finding me a “suitable” husband, things will be out in the open soon enough.
Do I want to be responsible for another fight between them? No.
Do I want to kill the glow that surrounds her amid a Casper Jameson romance? No.
So, while the nail technicians come over and we hand them the chosen colors, I giggle. While they scrub, file, and then massage our feet, I do what I do best and pretend nothing is wrong.
She’s oblivious, but I’m not mad because hiding my truth is what I’ve been taught to do. Someday she’ll know, and she’ll be mad at me for not asking for help, but until then, I want to enjoy the peace and quiet.
“I’d pay good money to see the look on his face if you do. He’d probably pee his pants.” She laughs, pulling out her phone after it pings in her small bag. Her eyes brighten while reading a text. Smile wide and cheeks with just a hint of pink, she quickly begins to write back, oblivious to my movements.
Because I check my cellphone too, a small smile fighting to curl at the edge of my lips. I don’t, though, biting it back even though my heart is racing, and my skin breaks out in goose bumps.
I miss you, my Venus. ~Callum J.
Five words. So simple and yet, I feel each one down to my bones. They make me happy. Make me want to giggle and be all high-pitched squeals, but I can’t.
Aurora has enough on her plate, the mess with her father and his demands for her to take over weighing heavy on her shoulders. I also don’t know how she’d feel about me seeing Casper’s cousin. Would it bother her?
I’m keeping so much from her already.
I hope that on the day all my truths come out, she forgives me.
“Clean sheets and shaved legs for the win.” I sigh, snuggling deeper into the bed after another long day. Yeah, we took a break in the afternoon, but that was cut short mid-lunch when the receptionist at the Conte House called with an urgent new case. This one came with a police escort and two signed court orders that say her ex-boyfriend isn’t allowed within a hundred feet of her and their son. No excuses.
That led to more paperwork, room placement, and then a long meeting with them while Aurora explained the ins and outs—rules—while I worked in a curricular activity for both. Schooling for the twelve-year-old, job training for her, and then medical and mental health visits for both.
I’m not sure the extent of what they’ve gone through, but one look into her empty eyes spoke louder than the screams of a thousand angry souls. And while I usually handle the public relations side of the house and the few classes I teach a week, I sat down and helped a tired Aurora with what I could before walking out the front doors a little after seven p.m.
I’m hungry, but too tired to make anything.
I’m sleepy, yet awake and wanting something. Him.
I miss him.
Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I open our last text exchange and read them. His last reply was over twenty-four hours ago, a corny joke that made me laugh until my eyes watered. It involved a bike, being tired, and the mother of a dad joke delivery that morphed into a catastrophe of comedic genius.
His timing killed me. I’d been running late, rushing to my car when it came through, and I laughed so hard my phone slipped and skidded across the ground, earning itself a nice scratch across the screen.
You should be arrested for this joke. ~Venus
I changed my handle to his nickname before hitting send. Couldn’t help myself.
Before I’m able to place the device down, though, it rings, and I’m surprised. It’s so late in London. Pressing the green button, I smile as a tired-looking Callum smirks back at me.
“I’ll have you know I’m very funny. Have been approached several times to run my own big network special.”
“Is that so?”
“Aye.” At my snort, he rolls his eyes and then sighs. His finger traces across the screen. “You’re so beautiful, Venus.”
My cheeks heat up, and my heart races. That same fluttering ene
rgy fills my stomach, and it’s like he’s here all over again. “Thank you.”
“You look so soft and warm, love. Are you in bed?” That’s when I notice he’s in an office of some sort; a large screen hangs behind him while a half empty bottle of dark liquor sits just to his right. “Let me see you.”
“I am,” I say, sitting up against my pillows. My back arches a bit as I situate myself, and the thin cotton of my shirt stretches—exposes just how hard my nipples are. The mere sound of his voice does wicked things to me; I’m wet and achy with that growing need he incites. Just like when he was here. When I had his touch, his mouth on my skin. “How do you want me?”
“Don’t tease me, sweetheart.” His groan is loud, and I shiver. “It’s been a long day, and I’m nowhere near done. Take pity on a lad and show me a little skin.”
“Have you missed me?” At my counter, he gives me a lecherous look. “PG-13 miss me, not rated MA, Mr. Jameson.”
“I have. More than you could ever imagine.” There’s amusement in his tone, but it’s the heated look that makes me simper. A low, keening mewl escapes my lips, my skin breaking out in goose bumps while he watches. Licks his lips. “And you…did you miss me? My touch?”
“Both.” It’s my truth, and his expression softens a bit. A sweet hunger. He’s older than me, in his late twenties, but the boyish looks and the way his gaze sweeps across the screen should be considered illegal. “Has anyone told you you’re quite charming? It’s nearly impossible to not be drawn to you.”
“And you’re simply captivating.” Callum pours himself a drink, grabbing a glass from somewhere within arm’s reach while not standing from his seat. It’s a few fingers’ worth, no ice or soda to mix. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Aliana.” He takes a sip and holds it. Savors it. “All day. All night.”
“I’m stuck in the same cycle.” Because I am. Morning, noon, and night; this man is on my mind and refusing to give me a single moment of reprieve from the promises he made. “Yet you’re far, and I’m here.”
“This separation is temporary.”
“What do you consider temporary?” I pull the phone further from my face and tilt it, giving him a better view of my body from my mouth to the edge of my panties. Then a little lower, where I shimmy my bedsheet down to lay over my mid thighs, pausing at the juncture where he can see me. There’s no hiding the small patch of wetness there nor the small lift of my hips. His groans fuel me, make me want to be bolder, but I want the answer to my question more. Not keeping the focus there for long, I pull it back, drag the camera view up slowly until he can see my eyes again. “I’m still waiting for your answer, sir.”
“You’re a naughty little thing.”
“And you do this to me.”
“Everything I told you was true.” Callum lets out a rough breath then. The desire is still there, but I’m transfixed by his gem-like stare that’s so honest and open. “I want your home to be London, Aliana. Beside me.” Before I can answer, though, someone comes into the room after knocking once; their words aren’t clear, and after Callum nods, you can hear the door close. His face is tense now, a complete contradiction from the man who a minute ago confessed to missing me. Wanting me with him. “My apologies, love. Casper’s looking for me.”
“Is everything okay? Is this about your aunt?”
His head bows slightly in affirmation. “It will be soon.”
He’s going out to work. To possibly kill.
“You need to go, don’t you.” Not a question and he nods, knocking back what’s left of his drink. Whatever he’s about to do isn’t something I want the details on, but I worry. It builds, creates this uncomfortable feeling in my chest that begins to eat at me. I’m in too deep and care too much. Diosito, please watch out for him. “I need you safe, Callum. Promise me you will not get hurt.”
“You have my word.” For a second, neither of us speak. We watch until there’s another knock and he sighs, the sound heavy, and it settles across my body like a warm blanket. It’s a sound of remorse and need, and I feel the heaviness in my bones. I don’t judge you. I can’t. “You’re embedded deep, Venus. So motherfucking deep, and I don’t want it to change because every part of me needs you.”
18
“Hijo de puta, I’m going to...fuck!” Felix De La Vega screams two weeks later, the gun he’d been clutching—hand shaking while reality sets in—is now on the floor. One bullet from my Ruger, that’s all it takes, and I chuckle at his idiotic expression.
Fear and loss; he reeks of it. Pathetic cunt.
He’s a nobody. A bloody middleman that made himself available to my aunt’s killer by facilitating a hitman while gaining a pretty penny for the connection. His hands are tinged with her blood, and we have plans for him.
“Oi, my apologies, bro. My finger slipped.”
Casper chuckles a few steps from me; his amusement rivals mine. “I’m going to start calling you butterfingers.”
“I’m not that bad.” I shrug, not the least bit repentant for the slip. If it were up to me, I’d do worse, but being a patient killer has its benefits. No one can say I’m anything but thoughtful and accommodating, and I take repayment in their screams shortly after.
While he prays, I’ll peel his skin back.
While he cries, I’ll feed it to him.
“You only have a few seconds left, Felix.” Casper’s mood changes then, his body language aggressive—from relaxed to a volcanic rush of ire that makes the man bleeding from the hole in his hand shake. He eyes my cousin, the tick in his jaw more pronounced now with each beat of the clock.
“Who are you?” Felix screams, but we all see his intent. The man’s a runner, taking a few steps back and turning his hip toward the halls behind him. His Ocean City home in New Jersey is big, has plenty of places to hide, but he won’t get far. “What do you want?”
“Your head on my mantle.” At Casper’s words, he takes off as bullets rain through the house from each of our guns. A door slams closed, and I pull out my empty clip, replacing it with a full magazine.
“Don’t shoot to kill. We have a deal.”
“We do, Callum.” Green eyes meet mine; the silent promise is all I need. Because we might be bastards—arseholes—but we’ve never taken back our word. There’s always been a certain level of respect between us, even when he was the boss, and I trust him with my life. “Watch the exits. I’ll be back with a gift.”
With that he takes off upstairs while Archie, one of our new guards and a close friend to Jeffrey, heads toward the back.
My gait is slow toward the front of the home.
Two things stick out the moment I cross his threshold: the area is quiet, and it’s warm. Sun high and no clouds, I turn my face from right to left and pick up no movement. No police sirens. No one walking down the street and no passing cars.
From the open door I can make out a bit of shouting, the heated, hushed words of desperation, but it’s the sound of a gun going off that makes me smile.
Then again.
Two, and I cock my head to the side. Immediately, Felix’s screams fill the silent afternoon with a pain-filled cadence that I quite enjoy. Loud, full of misery, but most importantly, it gets closer. And closer.
Their feet are heavy on the stairs, his whimpers rending the air until both stop at the foyer.
Casper’s eyes meet mine. So much anger in them. So much pain. “He’s being gracious and accepting our offer to ride with.”
“What a courteous tosser.” The man in question groans, his body landing at my feet after a small push from my cousin. He has a bullet wound to his knee and hand while a few bruises are beginning to form on his face. Casper went easy on him. “Do you need anything before we go?”
“Please don’t do this. I’ll…I’ll tell you everything.” His wounds are bleeding, but the flow isn’t excessive. Not enough to need any wrappings.
Crouching to his level, I tap the muzzle of my gun on his lips. Push the dark metal past his lips j
ust a bit, not even past his teeth, and Felix gags. A few tears spill down his dirty cheeks. “Oh, I know you’ll talk, Mr. De La Vega. And I’m going to enjoy every bloody scream as you tell it.”
That’s the last thing he hears; I pull out the gun and whip him across the face with it. His unconscious form topples over, blood covering his face as Archie comes around the corner, rushing over and dragging him to our vehicle. De La Vega is put in the trunk while we exit the property without another word.
It’s time to play.
“Wake up, arsehole,” I growl out, landing a swift kick to Felix’s midsection. He’s tied up, hands up on a high water pipe with his feet dangling just a smidge off the ground inside of a borrowed property not too far from Felix’s home. We’ve let him sleep for the last five hours, gave him time to calm down after the small panic attack at his house. It’s almost funny how quickly a person can go from do you know who I am to please don’t hurt me.
In that time, while he slumbered, we’ve gone through every last connection he has in the US and back in the Dominican Republic. His ex-wife has been notified of his death; his money transferred to her account along with the two properties he’s purposely screwed her out of.
How can a man vow to love a woman, marry her, and then leave her with kids for another?
How can a man abandon his children and leave them to live in squalor while his whore travels the world on money that belongs to their mum?
That’s why he’s here now.
Greed. Cockiness. Stupidity.
Felix groans, his body swaying a bit from the blow. “W-what’s going…fuck!” he screams, the next blow from my boot landing on his ribs. It’s hard enough to crack a rib, and the way he tries to fold into the pain is a good sign of just that, but this is just the beginning.
He dodged up. Touched a woman that to the Jameson’s was sacred.
“The next time I strike, I’ll use my knife. Wake up.” Casper tosses a sleek blade in my direction, and I catch it, a butterfly version, and flip it open. The clean metal glints in the sunlight filtering through the glass panels used to make up the building’s roof. “You have five seconds to open your eyes.”
Risqué: Mafia Romance (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 5) Page 14