by Ivy Fox
“Funny you should ask that. That same question has been tormenting me since you arrived in Chicago. Why are you here, Selene?”
“You already know why. Because I need your help,” she answers somberly, draining the rest of her drink in one go. She places the glass on my desk and sits on the edge next to it with her emerald eyes transfixed on mine.
“So I’ve been told,” I sneer, drinking what’s left of my own whiskey and placing the glass next to hers.
I stand in front of her, forcing her to look up at my imposing form. Her lashes beat a thousand times, like butterfly wings taking flight, and I have to keep my fisted hands anchored to my sides, not to kiss each lid shut.
“I must say, I would have preferred to hear the reason behind your return from your mouth instead of Gio’s.”
“You didn’t give me much choice. I came to you first, but you never let me get two words in on why I came back,” she explains, her spine straight as steel, never once shrinking while facing my disdained expression.
I have had men cry and fall to their knees, begging me for mercy, with half the look of abhorrence I’m showcasing now. Yet, Selene looks up at me completely unimpressed and unbothered by my intimidating glare. I can’t help but be in awe of her bravery, as well as feel contempt that she has resorted to using her best poker face against me.
“Don’t let me stop you then. Tell me why you’re here,” I order, placing my hands flat on my desk, trapping her between them. I lean close enough that she has to tilt her head back to keep eye contact while enduring the feel of my warm breath on her skin.
“I need you to clear James’ name,” she spews, unaffected by my proximity.
“Your husband, you mean,” I add, cursing the word.
“Yes,” she replies this time somewhat carefully with a small flicker of something in her eyes.
It flew in and out of her stare so quickly that a less attentive man would miss it. I, however, don’t miss a thing, especially when it concerns Selene. She’s holding something back. But what?
“You have always been a resourceful woman. So ample is your ability that you have not been a blip on the syndicate radar for over a decade. I would think that clearing an innocent man’s name falls short of such an accomplishment. What is the real reason you came back?” I insist, hoping she’ll open those gorgeous, plump lips and tell me the truth, once and for all.
“He is my reason,” she deadpans, with so much certainty it carves a brand new hole inside of me.
“Is he, now?” I ask bitterly. I place my hands on her waist, only to trickle them down to her bare thighs. Her skirt rises just enough to give me a little taste, but it’s the feel of her goosebumps under my fingertips that gets my undivided attention.
“I’m sorry if that hurts you,” she chokes, no longer as cool and collected as she had been when we started this discussion.
“You’re sorry?” I laugh chillingly. “Sorry cannot even compare to what I prefer you to feel. How about broken, Selene? Can you feel broken and shattered in the same way you left all of us ten years ago? Because that is what I want you to feel. I want you to feel the same pain we all did when you left us without a word. But I’m not sure if you are capable of feeling anything at all. Even pain,” I snarl, squeezing her knees to the side until her legs open up to my assault.
“Is that why you refuse to help me? You want to hurt me?” She gasps when both our clothed centers align. With one hand I grab her waist to mine, and with the other I pull her hair back forcefully, commanding her green eyes to look at nothing but my disgruntled face.
“I wish I could hurt you. As much as I want you to feel just a sliver of the pain you have caused me, I lack the courage to reciprocate,” I growl, my teeth seething to get a taste of her.
“So what are you saying?” She whimpers when she feels my cock harden at her pussy’s entrance.
“I’m saying that I’ll help you. I’m saying that I am already helping you. Your husband will be free by the end of the week. I promise you that,” I tell her, and relief overshadows any lingering lust in her gaze.
It’s the ice water I need to bring my focus back and remind myself of where her true loyalties lie. I break away from her warmth, taking the empty glass with me. I walk nonchalantly to the bar for a refill as if I wasn’t seconds away from kissing her.
“You can leave now. Go back to your husband, Selene. Don’t come back to Chicago. For your sake, as much as for mine.” My voice comes out so hoarse and low that I’m unsure she heard a single word.
The room grows eerily silent, and I shut my eyes so my senses can absorb her rosy perfume, albeit from a safe distance, in the last few moments of her presence. But there is no safety when Selene is in a room—a fact I can attest to, as I’m burned alive from the inside when I feel her soft hand touch my back.
“Vincent?” she whispers, making my blood heat just from my name on her lips.
“What?” I ask harshly, not daring to turn around.
“Thank you.”
I keep my eyes closed and wait for her to go; just counting the seconds until she leaves me alone and bereft once again, never to return. But my wishes and prayers are in vain as her hand travels ever so slowly down my back, feeling every ridge and hard muscle through the black dress shirt. Then her arms wrap around my waist, pressing her face to my back, torching me to ash.
“Vincent,” I hear her plea, and my name, so tinged with the same hollowed sadness I am imprisoned in, freezes me in place, reluctant to move an inch.
“Even if you were capable of hurting me, you would never get the respite you want by breaking me,” she explains, her grip tightening around me.
“So sure of that, are you? Ah, tesoro, I have grown quite ruthless in your absence.” I try to mock, but to my ears, it only sounds like a mournful lament.
“And that is why you couldn’t break me. I’m already broken,” she replies as her wet, silent tears soak through my shirt.
Memories, of a red-haired love, assault me viciously. A girl who did everything in her power to prevent any witnesses to her tears. But this lovely imposter is not as headstrong as before and lets the wet evidence of her anguish touch my skin through the imported fabric.
“So you say,” I reply, falling prey to her evil tactics, and placing my hands over hers.
My own fingers stroke her trembling ones as they insist in desperately holding me to her when my own couldn’t do the same once upon a time. As much as I pleaded and bargained for her to always stay in my arms, my hold was never binding enough.
“You don’t believe me?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I shrug.
“It does to me,” she adds sullenly, placing one gentle kiss on my shoulder blade.
I turn around slowly in her arms and place my hands on each tear-filled cheek.
“Why? You clearly moved on without looking back,” I exclaim, but there is no malice in my voice, only heartbreak.
“I never moved on! Just replaced one life for an existence filled with cherished memories, recounting each one to keep me afloat. Do you honestly think you are the only one that hurts? Don’t be so vain, Vincent. I died the day I left you,” she announces with a cry.
Have mercy on my foolish soul, because I almost believe the lies she’s feeding me.
“For some time, I thought I would never be able to breathe again,” she continues, and I wipe one of her tears with my thumb.
“Until he came into your life,” I interject sorrowfully, ending her attempts to weaken me further.
“Yes. Until love came back into my life,” she admits without an ounce of shame.
“How quaint,” I bite back.
“Vincent… “ she starts to say, but I just pick her up and push her gently against the wall.
Her eyes open wide, revealing watery, green gems, and I unhook myself from her grasp, pulling her hand to trace over my engorged cock.
“You see how cha
otic you make me feel? I loathe and despise everything you’ve done to me, yet I still want you. I want you at your best and at your worst. I want nothing but to fuck you right now, against this wall, even while you lie and shed your traitorous tears,” I croak, knowing I’m treading a thin line with my sanity, uttering such a confession.
“I tried to forget you. I tried so fucking hard, but after a few failed attempts, I gave up seeking comfort in cold, nameless arms. After you’ve made love to your soul mate, everyone that follows pales in comparison,” I continue to admit.
“Vincent.” She pulls her hand away from my crotch and starts grasping onto my collar, her tears falling even harder now.
“I hate you so much, Selene. But I want you just as fiercely as I ever did. You’ve ruined me!” I relent, starting to show the jagged edges of my mangled heart.
“Vincent, I know you don’t believe me, but I have always loved you. I always will!” she insists, her manic hands trying to keep their hold on me.
I lower my lips to her ears, wanting to make sure she knows I will never be fooled again with her lies.
“You’re right. I don’t believe you. Love is unconditional, and yours seems to come with strings. I’m done being your puppet,” I whisper, and I almost hear the loud crack being made to her heart and mine. “You were my weakness once. Now you’re just a reminder never to be weak again. Thank you for that lesson, tesoro. I will never forget it.”
She slaps me with the same venom-filled hate I hold, and I let it wash over me. Sting after sting, I welcome the pain to lessen the anguish I’m so intent on keeping hidden. She scratches me to the point of drawing blood, and I laugh at the feel of her anger pushing through my skin.
“That’s it, tesoro. Mark me with your hate. That I can believe,” I taunt, and she rises to my call, releasing hellfire on me.
Her howls are the most beautiful symphony my ears have ever heard, to which her anger-fueled aggressions dance in perfect synchronicity. With eyes shut, I relish each blow, each curse and wail. I feel her teeth sink into my flesh, and I take pleasure in that, too. Her hands crawl up to my hair, painfully pulling each strand in her grip, while her teeth mark my throat. I open my eyes and pull her hair back, wrapping it around my fist. She’s panting like a wild banshee, scorn dancing in her angry, emerald glare.
My skin prickles with excitement and want. Before I have time to distance myself from her entangled web, she goes for the kill and latches her lips onto mine. I become unhinged as I let her overpower my will, and she invades my body, if not my soul. Although at this point, I’m not sure I could deny her that either.
She jumps and fastens her legs around my waist, while cradling my head in her delicate hands, kissing me with the same aggression she had used with her fists. My blood is pumping in my ears voraciously, and I no longer have a grasp on reality. Instead, I am nothing but limbs and bones designed to give her whatever she wants.
“You hate me, Vincent? Prove it to me then,” she cries in my ear, biting the lobe before returning to take my mouth hostage.
She continues to maul away at me, and I moan loudly when I feel her pussy rub itself against my zipper, ordering its demise, too. I hurriedly pull myself free and hike up her skirt. I move her thong to the side, not even bothering to tear the thing away and push myself in.
“AH!” she bellows, and I slump my head to the crook of her neck, making my own crescent moons with my teeth.
One single thrust inside her welcoming walls and I become lost in her. Being inside her is sweet, unbridled surrender. It’s the gift of madness, wrapped up with a pretty bow of passion and desire.
“Vincent,” she moans hungrily, with hooded eyes and lust-drenched lips.
I keep to our fevered pace, fucking like beasts in heat. I can’t stop. Logic and sense have no room inside me when I have my love willingly offering herself as a sacrifice to my disdain.
“Let me hate you, tesoro,” I beg, kissing her, feeling too enraged and powerless. “Please let me hate you.”
“Hate me, Vincent. But love me too,” she supplicates frenziedly, and I groan in defeat when my soul hears her call.
I give her my all.
My hate.
My pain.
My anger.
But my love, too.
It was always hers for the taking. She’s now demanding what’s owed, so I submit to it unremorsefully. I’ve become a volatile mess, yet have never felt more unburden than by being held in her arms; inside her well-fabricated cocoon of love and hate.
My growls become stifled with each new thrust I impale her with, and her wet core clenches around me—a true testament to her desire. I curl up my lips in a distorted smile, with the feel of her breasts rubbing themselves on my chest, begging for their own friction and care. I lower my head and bite through her blouse, giving one of her nipples my affection and scorn.
“Oh, God! Vincent!” she shouts, so close to yielding to her surrender, demanding mine to come and join hers. I punish her further with each pounding thrust while finding her guarded nub with my thumb, and strumming it until all I hear are her loud cries of abandonment.
“Vincent!” she yells as her orgasm takes over, with mine eagerly following suit.
I was being truthful when I confessed that no other woman took her place since the last time I had made love to her. What would be the point in even trying? Nothing could ever come close to this. It would only be a poor shadow to remind me of this precise moment—a heaven filled with promises of a life I will never have; an oasis I will never enjoy to its full extent because this ethereal realm isn’t meant for a man like me. Love and goodness aren’t for the rotten. They’re for the good and pure. And I lack the attributes to be welcomed to such a divine existence.
My tesoro taught me well enough that only the righteous man deserves happiness.
And I’m not him.
SIXTEEN
Selene
I shuffle from one side to the other on the balls of my feet, anxious to end this nightmare once and for all. After the last talk I had with Vincent, I knew he’d come through for me. I’m not sure how he was able to pull it off, but when Gio’s attorney dealing with James’ case called to tell me he was being released and I could pick him up at noon the very next day, I didn’t ask too many questions. I just got in my car and drove all night to make sure I was here on time.
The minute I see James being ushered out the jail gate, I run to his side and jump in his arms.
“Missed me that much, huh, Beautiful? I should get locked up more often,” he teases, placing a soft kiss on my temple. My own smile grows wide seeing how he’s still able to find humor in life, even after this whole sordid ordeal of being framed for the murder of his best friend.
“I’m just glad all of this is over.” I sigh, feeling the weight of the past month leave my burdened shoulders.
“Not yet. There are still plenty of loose ends they have to tie up, but at least I’m no longer their prime suspect. Whoever killed Ed is still out there though, and he deserves just as much justice as I did.”
I look up at his concerned, scruffy face, and it astounds me how his thought process works. Ed was an asshole, and in my eyes never deserved James’ friendship. He was a lowlife, a cheat, and a compulsive gambler. I watched him screw James over time and time again, and his death, although unfortunate, didn’t come as a surprise to me. What did shock me was anyone thinking that James could be responsible for it.
“I’m sure that the police will do their best to find the real culprit, now that they know you didn’t do it.”
“Well, aren’t we the glass-half-full type of girl all of a sudden?” He jokes, giving me another tight squeeze.
I punch his firm stomach, and he feigns injury as he pulls away from our embrace.
“Come on, Handsome. Let me take you home.”
“Never thought I’d be so happy to hear those words.” He chuckles at my side as we both head to his tru
ck. Before he gets in, he throws a wink my way, and I give him a soft smile in return.
I know these years haven’t been entirely easy on him. Living with me, for one, takes tremendous effort. But I am grateful that we somehow found each other.
Once both of us are strapped in, I turn on the ignition and radio, leaving the hideous jail behind us, hoping to never set eyes on it again and relieved that this whole thing is over. However, once we get on to I-65 S, my relief is overshadowed with the dilemma I have to face now that James is out of jail. My mind feels as if it’s being bombarded with problem after problem, catastrophic blows coming from all sides—a wasted battlefield of my own creation.
James is now free, but that doesn’t mean we have our freedom back yet. Too many people know of James’ existence, which means they can pinpoint exactly where we are. While I was able to solve one crisis, I now had to find a way to fix the impending one, which might arrive on our doorstep any day.
“You’re scowling,” James remarks, turning down the radio playing his favorite country song, a buffer I had installed to keep him occupied while trying to figure things out.
“I don’t scowl,” I deflect, never taking my eyes from the road. I know if I turn to face him, I’ll see the same preoccupied look I was trying to avoid.
“Yeah, you do. Quite often actually. You no longer happy I got my ‘get out of jail free card’?” he jokes, trying to lighten my pensive mood.
“Don’t be silly. Of course I’m happy. I’m just thinking about where we go from here,” I confess, my face as calm as possible as not to alarm him. He just survived one hellish experience, so I would hate to drop another one of my messes on his lap so soon.
“What do you mean? What’s going on in that pretty, little head of yours?”
I bite my lower lip and the metaphorical bullet simultaneously.
“We can’t stay in Nashville anymore. It’s not safe.”
“Hmm.” I hear him mumble beside me.
“Too many people know who you are now; meaning they know where we live and how to get to us. We need to change that before anyone decides to pay us an unexpected visit. I have worked too hard to be caught now by my father, or worse, Ciro.”