by Kate Stewart
I cringed at the thought of Joseph trapped in a world so hopeless.
“I began using after Laz decided I needed to ‘earn’ his protection. I would make runs for him and collect money. I was trying to keep Laz content while trying to take care of Joseph. My first excuse for using was to keep up with Laz’s never ending demands and then . . .”
I looked over at her as she wiped a stray tear from her face. “You liked it.”
“I loved it,” she said as she looked over at me carefully. “It made everything disappear in a way. I wasn’t numb, but I could ignore it all.”
I nodded, but without a true understanding of the effect of the drug.
“Laz just got worse. He was never hands-on with Joseph, just protective. He found me using one day and went ballistic. I tried to quit so many times. And Laz still forced me to make deliveries. It was too tempting. I’d traded one hell for another, except I had this precious little boy,” she whispered tearfully. “If I didn’t have him, if he hadn’t needed me, I probably would have ended it.”
Fear crept through me as I heard the desperation in her voice. “I could never leave him, and then I screwed up, and they took him from me.” She looked at me, destroyed. “I can’t do it without him, Taylor.”
“You won’t. We will get him back.”
“But Laz,” she said with fear in her voice.
“He’s a thug and a criminal, and no matter what power he has in Dyer, he’s just a street rat anywhere else. I’m not afraid of him.”
“Taylor, he’s unpredictable and crazy,” she warned.
“I saw it.”
“What do I do?”
“We will figure it out. Right now, he’s waiting on us.” I looked at her. “Are you talking to him?”
“Yes,” she confessed. “He thinks we’re in this together. He wouldn’t have let me leave otherwise.”
“Are you?”
She paused from gathering the breakfast plates. “No.”
“Keep him pacified, Amber. I’ll figure out the rest.”
“He will not give up his son, and he’s hell bent on making you pay.”
I looked at my sister with certainty. “He’s not in control.”
A knock on my office door brought me out of my haze. I opened it and greeted the lady who stood with a large case of makeup and an overly exaggerated smile. “Ms. Ellison, nice to meet you. I’m Gloria Runnel.”
“Please come in.”
“I see you aren’t in your dress. We can work around that. Where should I set up?”
An hour later, I was fully impressed with Gloria and her abilities and tipped her twice her rate before I turned down a photo and closed the door behind her. I had ten minutes to dress and slipped the silky midnight fabric over my head and pulled the floor length hem past my hips. The dress itself was spectacular, but Ross was right in that I had no escort. This Cinderella had no prince waiting, but she didn’t need one and never would. No, this Cinderella had run with the rats, fucked a prince or two, and decided that self-worth was superior to being second to a man’s ego.
But that wasn’t how Daniello made me feel. Not at all.
He had plenty of ego, no doubt about that, but I only played second to his need for me. He fed off our lust first and always.
“You’re getting soft, Taylor,” I scolded myself in the mirror as I admired the waves in my hair. My dress fit my every curve then flowed from mid-thigh down.
The girl inside me covered in Dyer, Tennessee dirt jumped up and down with glee, and I smiled back at her.
We did okay.
Rocco glared at me before testing my patience. “She is a whore.”
Barga was supposed to be my sanctuary. At least that was the idea. Aside from my time with Taylor in the States, my home was the only place I truly let my guard down. At that moment, in my villa, where discussions of all business were off the table, I had a two-hundred-pound fly to remind me it was never safe to let my guard down. Rocco was in a rage. So far inside his head, he couldn’t see reason.
“Stop your tongue, or I will cut it out of you. She has been through much in her life and deserves your respect.”
Rocco scoffed at me, his face covered in his usual scowl.
“Why her? Why this temptation? This is not the way you do things. No entanglements!”
I sipped my coffee before I spoke. “Rocco, are you a robot?”
“What?”
“Are you a robot?”
He scowled before he spoke. “What a senseless question.”
“Do you find woman entertaining?”
He shrugged. “I fuck.”
“Imagine a woman so beautiful, so entertaining that her pussy was the only one you wanted.”
Rocco waved his hand and said in Arabic, “Never for me.”
“You will speak in English. And, Rocco, that is your choice. If you want to treat women as a resource and not a gift, that is your choice.”
He glared at me over the solid oak breakfast table my grandfather hand carved. On the way into my villa, he must have missed the inviting rows of olive trees, the calm of the large statue fountain in the center of my courtyard, and the early morning chatter of the birds, to bid war on me. Rocco’s menacing presence washed out the early morning sun perched in the sky. He was a dark cloud.
“Rocco, she is my choice. And it will remain that way until I say so. She knows nothing.”
“You are risking our dealings. Imbecile.”
I glanced up from my paper. “Is this jealousy? Do you want to fuck me?”
Rocco moved toward me with more argument. I lunged from where I sat and nailed him to the wall. “Say one fucking word, and you will regret it.”
Rocco gritted his teeth as he hissed through them, “I’m not your second in command, Daniello.”
I slapped his face playfully. “Oh, Rocco, right now, you are my side man. His orders.” I snapped my fingers next to his ear. Rocco’s eyes bulged as he did his best to hold in his temper. Neither of us had a long fuse. It was ingrained in us as young men.
We’d been forced into the Egyptian Army by my father, who refused to let us have dual citizenship with Italy for the specific purpose of serving as he had. Amon Naifeh, a soldier first, family man second, had even gone so far as to bring us back and forth from Barga to Cairo to ensure we remained on the government’s radar even though Italy was our true home. Our fathers had served together, and when Rocco’s father was killed, my mother embraced him as her own. When we returned to Italy after our compulsory stint in the service, we were different men. Rocco grew fond of the corruption and kept a thirst for power while I declared war on men like him. And when opportunity knocked for Rocco to follow in the steps of my family, he was the first to open the door. I took my own path, determined to keep my freedom, and Rocco’s temper kept him where he started, at the bottom. He’d grown just as rich as he was bitter. I slapped him again just for my amusement. “What is that name of the Indian to that cowboy?” I grinned as he glared at me. “That show we watched as children?”
“Take your hands away from me.” More Arabic. I slapped his face again, this time with a heavy hand. “English, Rocco. I will not ask you again. Ah,” I said as the name came to me. “Tonto. That is your new name. You are dismissed, Tonto.” I resumed my seat at the patio table and gripped my paper.
He slammed his fist down in front of me. “He will not approve of this.”
“He knows nothing of her and never will. He does not care who we fuck.”
“You’re a fool,” he scorned before he pointed to the open air between us. “He is God. And what will you do with your whore when he tells you he knows of Taylor Ellison?”
“This is your obsession, not his. This will not be a problem.”
He leaned in. “She is too close. She is a weakness. You are weak with her.”
I lunged for him. My knuckles cracked against his jaw, and I only felt satisfied when I saw blood trickle out of his mouth. I landed another blow, making su
re I bruised his face so he would see the evidence of his tantrum. “You are the one that is weak. You are not your own man. You have no freedom. You wanted to be a part of my family so much, you lost yourself. You are no one without your orders. You act like a jealous wife. I am tired of your temper, Rocco. Tired of you. My sentiments for you as family are long past. When our dealings are done in the States and I am finish with you. I do not answer to him. He is not my fucking God. You can kiss his feet if you wish. Take your moody away from me.”
“It’s finished and mood, imbecile. Keep your whore but keep her out of my way.” He faced me head on. “You are a disgrace to your father, to this family, and to your dead brother.”
We glared at each other, and I spoke slowly, so there was no doubt in his mind that my next words were truth. “I will kill you if you say another word.”
I grabbed my paper and adjusted the antique chair before taking a seat. He stormed away, cursing, with a wish of death . . . a death wish. I smiled to myself.
I will conquer this English.
I left the party early and walked around the Battery in my ball gown. There were few people there, and most were decent enough to spare me strange looks. After a few hours of polite conversation and one too many dance invitations from business associates, I felt suffocated. I’d damn near ran over the doorman of the hotel trying to get out of the posh party. I found it ironic that I’d spent so many years in an effort to be a part of that circle. It bored me. Closing deals and tripling my investment on a good idea never got old. It wasn’t the pot of gold; it was the rainbow that appealed to me. And I’d chase that rush my whole life.
The breeze from the harbor refreshed my sweat-covered skin as I pounded around the history filled sidewalk while it whispered its secrets to me. I still loved the city, the texture of it. The smells, the glimpses of old world and new combined into a sweet, melodic southern cluster fuck. The swooning trees and ever-burning lamp lights, the secrecy of the never-ending hidden alleys. The sculpted hidden gardens. A late-night walk downtown was a silent symphony which the city richly played. I covered my bare shoulders and leaned over the railing on the cement wall that separated me from the harbor. A silent sailboat drifted by, slicing through the dark water. It was the perfect summer night. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. I’d given enough of my time to everyone who deserved it. I was mentally drained from endless conversations. I had meetings between meetings set up for the next week.
I needed a break. I needed clarity.
Ray always told me there were two realities and that work was the safest.
I didn’t understand it then. But at that moment, it was becoming clearer that I had no second reality.
Daniello crossed my mind briefly. I wondered what his second reality was. I wondered if he was afraid to quit being the bad guy because he too had confused his priorities. Most people worked to live. But most people hadn’t whored their way to get to Harvard.
Ray’s voice whispered over the water. If I closed my eyes, I could see him in his office. His fingers tapped on the rich oak wood of his desk. In the weeks after he took my virginity, I was robbed of his company. He’d spent endless days away from his own home to avoid me. In the few times we locked eyes in passing, he’d been the first to let his drift away. I’d become close to one of his maids, Olivia. She had watched me carefully the first week of his absence and made extra rounds at the dinner table, making small talk. She was the closest thing to a friend I had. I’d been dealing with the bitchy future WASPs at my school and had no desire to befriend any of them. And now that my “Uncle Ray” was missing, I craved the small talk.
Something inside me was hurt by his dismissal, but every day he remained away, a different kind of anger brewed.
When I watched his car pull up a month after he took me on his kitchen table, I raced down his marble staircase and flung open the door. My anger was replaced by shock when I saw a woman on his arm. A woman his age.
Ray barely glanced my way as they descended the steps that led to the foyer. Her perfume hit me as they walked past, indifferent eyes for me from Ray and a smile from the woman on his arm.
I addressed Ray, doing away with rehearsed formality. “I need to talk to you.”
“It can wait, Taylor. It’s late. Go to bed.”
“I’m not a child!”
He paused his steps as the woman looked over her shoulder at me. She was dressed in black silk and high heels I couldn’t imagine being able to walk in.
Ray took the coward’s way out and called for Olivia.
Olivia came running with wide eyes in my direction. She read the situation and motioned for me.
“Taylor, come on now.”
“What the fuck, Ray!?”
Ray’s companion spoke first. “Whoa, the mouth on this one. She could use some discipline, Ray.”
I held my tongue. I wasn’t about to lose it all due to a tantrum. But then she looked down at me with pity.
“I’m not his child. I’m his obligation.” I gritted the next words through my teeth. “His niece.”
“She’s beautiful, Ray.”
Ray nodded, and with glossy eyes, looked me over.
“Bed.”
I looked between the two of them, and all the fight left me. I was being treated like a child because I was acting like one. If I wanted Ray’s company, I was doing a bad job of requesting it. I was at his mercy, whether I liked it or not. Still, I knew he had a soft spot somewhere for me, so I decided to manipulate it. “My apologies for interrupting your evening.” I turned to Ray, who saw through my insincere bullshit. “I just wanted to thank you for taking me in, Uncle Ray. I really am grateful.”
His eyes sliced through mine as I looked over to the woman who scrutinized me curiously. “I’ll leave you to it. Goodnight.”
The next morning, Ray was gone. He—like Daniello—was a ghost, and I lived in the shadow of his rejection.
I smoothed my hand down the silky fabric of my dress and looked back at the Battery. I was at a standstill. All dressed up, and I didn’t want to be . . . anywhere. But the flutter in my stomach told me that was a lie. I knew where I wanted to be and whom I wanted to be with. I reached into my purse and pulled out the key card. Even if he wasn’t there, I could chase his ghost.
Inside the penthouse, I flipped the light switch and gaped at the finished space. It was a different world. It had only been a few weeks since I first set foot inside and it had completely transformed. The furnishings were nothing short of luxurious, and I loved the exposed copper fixtures, the espresso-colored floors, and the metal reflection in the ceiling. It was a palace. A mix of earth and metal. I took long strides over to the king sized bed that sat in front of a diamond shaped, copper fireplace. It wasn’t the place for a bed, but I knew it had been my lover who ordered it to be placed in that exact location. He, much like the intrusive furniture, didn’t belong in my space. But his presence was entirely alluring. I unzipped my dress and slipped into the bed. It was plush and comfortable, though I was unsure if I was supposed to be there without my lover. I assumed Daniello would demand my presence when he wanted me. But he’d given me access, and somehow I felt his absence a little less in the last space we shared. And though I had no intentions of staying, I fell asleep and drifted off to the memory of his voice.
“Phoenix.”
Another day, and another, and another. Nothing. No word from my lover, just the looming feeling that I was drifting on a road to nowhere. I was becoming dependent on my surfacing feelings for Daniello, and I hated it. The longer he stayed away, the more the resentment grew for the man who controlled far too much of my time and my imagination from whatever world he escaped to. Whatever walls we’d managed to let down between us in Dyer began stacking up, twice as impenetrable with every day I slept alone in the penthouse. He’d revealed so little and expected so much. Too much. Despite my hesitance to share, he knew details about me, secrets about my life, who I was. And still, he kept me at bay and
picked me up on his whim like a toy.
I was no one’s fucking toy.
I had to face facts. I wasn’t happy with the situation. It was time to take back some control. I needed some say. Our involvement and his disappearance had only amped up the unrest in me over time. I was fighting hard to keep my emotions out of it. And still, my heart ached, my brain was fed up with thoughts of him. I was tired of waiting.
A creature of habit, I slipped on the most revealing dress I had, cut deep in both front and back and left nothing to the imagination. It fit every curve of my body, and I stared at my reflection, satisfied
Without giving it any more thought, and furious with my situation, I fired up my Chevelle and drove downtown on a mission. I mentally dug through every conversation I had with Daniello in a fruitless search for something more than what I felt at that moment: used. I felt discarded, no matter how hard I tried to keep the connection in his endless silence.
But words were bullshit. I’d learned that from Laz. Actions always spoke louder, and Daniello’s consistent absence was screaming at me to wake the hell up.
“I will return,” I mimicked snidely, as I tore through midtown and fled to King Street. I pulled up to the piano bar I’d seen Daniello at months ago and tossed my keys to the valet before I moved to the back patio. In the midst of neon blue lights that covered the dark patio, I surveyed the bar for a suitor and saw Damien Baldwin sipping expensive scotch. He drummed his fingers against his glass in time with Kings of Leon as “The End” rang out through the deck. I assessed his relaxed posture and easy smile, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. But it was just the opposite. He was on the prowl. Women flocked toward his kind of look and charm. My tastes were now on an entirely different planet than the one Damien dwelled on. But it was exactly why he was the perfect fix.
A cure for the alien who’d stolen my identity.
Harvard graduate, business mogul . . . and doormat? Fuck that.