Mind Games - A Bad Boy Romance With A Twist

by Gabi Moore

  “Yeah that’s great, dad.”

  The new batch would arrive soon, all right, and I would make sure he got first dibs on it before we sent it out. But let’s just say that the poison is the dose, and I was planning to make sure he got the dose I needed him to get. He might have been something special back in the day, but we weren’t back in the day anymore. He was unfit to rule. And I wasn’t the only one to think so.

  I looked up as a woman poked her head through the café doors, looked around, cast a nervous glance at me and pops sitting at the far table, then scurried out again. It was embarrassing.

  “We need to spruce this place up a bit,” I said and downed the last bitter dregs of my coffee.

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Dad, I know you got this thing with your eyes and shit, but come on. The place is a dump.”

  “So?”

  “So it’s obvious is what I’m saying. Maybe we get some real coffee machines in here. Some pie, I don’t know. Hire someone else so it’s not just Maria sitting around here all day.”

  His face darkened and for a second he looked just like that classic mugshot they’d been using of him in the papers since forever.

  “Am I hearing you right? We speak all morning about saving money, about clamping down on this bullshit with my suppliers and now you want to come at me about fucking coffee machines? You’re joking right?”

  “Dad, forget it, I was just saying.”

  “Forget it? You’re Angelo Valenti’s son and you talk like some kid with no brains, it breaks my heart.”

  “Dad, come on.”

  “Nah, forget it, just get me the stuff, OK?”

  “Sure dad.”

  “And take care of that thing with JJ, it’s urgent,” he said, and laid both his bony hands on the table to slowly raise himself up out of the booth. I hated his legs. I hated how weak and wobbly they looked. Old people freaked me out, I hated to admit it.

  “Yeah, got it.”

  It was easier to take this kind of yes sir no sir shit when I knew that in a few days, he’d be going on one long, long perma-trip he’d never come back from. Oh, he’d feel “better” all right. It’d be like buying a deluxe holiday home in Schizophrenia-town, more like. It wouldn’t hurt me to give the dying old coot whatever lip service he wanted these last few days.

  I stood up to leave with him and quietly decided for myself that I would manage the Albanians situation just exactly as I damn well pleased. And when I was done with him, I’d drop a bit of cash on making this place look half presentable.

  I walked behind him as he shuffled out of Carmilla’s Coffee and out into the bright sunlight. I straightened my lapels and stood tall, scanning the street.

  “You all right to walk from here, dad?”

  He grunted and waved me off and was already a few yards down the road. I nodded and turned to go my own way. Life was good. Hard, but good. Fair. The old must die and the new must thrive in their place. Such is life. I turned the corner and caught a glimpse of my reflection in a car as I walked on. I wasn’t a pretty boy, but I cleaned up nice.

  I straightened my collar and walked on, my feet suddenly changing directions and taking a different route. Sure, the empire had some obvious fault lines and had taken some knocks in the recent past. But it would soon have a new king.

  And every king needs a queen.

  Chapter 5 - Evelyn

  He was an ugly bastard, but at least he cleaned up nice. I peered through the peephole and saw him round and distorted, like he was in a glass bubble. Still, I could recognize that smug face anywhere. I opened the door and looked at him.

  “Well if it isn’t little Joey in his Sunday best,” I said and smiled at his suit and gelled back hair.

  He returned the smile and pushed his way into my apartment rudely. I knew he hated it when I or anybody else called him “Little Joey.” He hated it even more whenever I brought up the fact that his father had me babysit him once way back in the day. Sometimes, I wonder if the fact that he fucked me two days after his 18th birthday was his way of putting that little humiliation to bed once and for all. I still teased him about it, though.

  “Job interview?” I said and closed the door behind me. I had lots of clout in this organization, but not enough to tell the big boss’s son to go and fuck himself, unfortunately. Didn’t mean I couldn’t rag at the guy a little. Lord knows he needed to be taken down a few pegs.

  “No, Evelyn, you know very well that I’ve been with my father this afternoon to discuss important issues concerning the business,” he said and walked around my apartment like he was trying to figure out what part of it he wanted to grace with his presence.

  “Take a seat,” I said. “Whiskey?”

  He nodded and sat down in the big seat – the same one I had pinned Jack down in only a day or two ago.

  Joseph Valenti was smaller than Jack, but denser somehow. Wiry. Like he was wound up tight and ready to uncoil and lash out at the first person who pulled on the wrong thread. I knew he would never be anything like his father. There was just always something so vicious about Joey. So severe.

  I poured him a drink, handed it to him and settled into a seat across from him. I tried to look relaxed but something about having Joey in my house always put me on edge. Some little ribbon of tension was always alive in the core of me when he spoke, something that was ready to bolt, or fight if necessary. I didn’t like how he spoke, or the way he combed his hair back like that.

  He took the drink and set it aside without taking a sip.

  “So to what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, trying not to make eye contact.

  He cracked his knuckles.

  The single time we had fucked, it wasn’t exactly what I would have called “pleasure”. Joey wasn’t really like that. I learnt early on that the thing he liked best in the world was to dominate. To control. Everything else was just a vehicle for that, including sex. In a way, men like Joey are profoundly asexual. They get the same excitement from taking a woman that they do pulling off a good deal or realizing they’re annihilated a sworn enemy. In other words, he was a lousy lay.

  “Well, you do so much for the business, Evie. It’s time you got the recognition you deserve. I just want to make sure you’re more involved… you’re not like the others who just blow in and try to make a quick buck. You understand the business, and that’s why you’re so valuable.”

  He was talking to me like I was some downtrodden secretary at an NGO or something. I said nothing, and waited for him to come out with his point.

  “There are so many interesting new avenues opening up these days. The organization is changing. And that’s why I want to make sure that you’re well positioned…” he said, then put the glass to his lips.

  The audacity was breathtaking. Everyone in the upper management levels knew that this little pipsqueak had had designs on his father’s role for a long time now, and they certainly weren’t happy about it. That he was so blatantly signaling his intentions was what really got me. He was making his award acceptance speech for a throne he hadn’t inherited yet. Or stolen, for that matter.

  “I’m very well positioned, thank you, Joey. And I’m aware of the changes that are coming,” I said calmly. And I don’t need any damn help from you is what I really wanted to add, but said nothing.

  “We have a history, Evie. I’ll always have your back, you know.”

  I smiled.

  The good thing about working around narcissists is how predictable they are. Screwing him was nothing more than a career move for me, and one so buried in the past nobody could even remember a time when I wasn’t one of the most competent people in this business. But for him, that one night in his father’s vacation apartment in Corsica meant I was indebted him for the rest of time.

  “We all have each other’s back in this organization,” I said. “That’s why it works so well.”

  His forced a strained smile.

  “I’m thinking of coke. There are some
new opportunities, new supply lines that will be vacant in the new year. Maybe you and I--”

  “No thanks.”

  He looked stung. Like his eyes might have popped out of his head from sheer rage alone.

  “What, you’re too fucking good to even hear me out?” he said, laughing cynically. Another woman might have been petrified at how swiftly his voice could change tone, but I wasn’t an ordinary woman, and I knew him, and I wasn’t scared.

  “No. But I know what you’re going to say. You and I know how your father feels about coke, so the only reason you’re mentioning it to me is because you want to go behind his back, and I won’t be involved with that kind of thing,” I said curtly. His face was going a faint shade of red.

  He exhaled loudly and flopped back into his seat.

  “Well, there you go, that’s what I’m talking about right there…”

  “I know loyalty doesn’t mean much to you but--”

  “Loyalty? What about loyalty to me?” he spat.

  I gave him a slow, careful look. I knew what he was thinking. In his mind, his father was already well out of the equation and he was as good as top dog right now.

  “Joey, just because I fucked you once it doesn’t mean I’ll ever do it again,” I said, lowering my voice.

  We all knew he wanted to get rid of his father as soon as possible, and we all knew he wasn’t the kind to act with moderation. I knew what he was about, and I wasn’t prepared to stick around under the new reign of Little Joey the Psychopath.

  He stood up and walked over to where I sat, and towered over me, looking like that great coil was close to snapping loose. I focused every thread of my will on staring straight ahead, calm, unflustered.

  “Well,” he laughed, “I’m glad to see just exactly where your mind is, I can say that much.”

  I instantly stood up too, bringing my face just inches away from his and staring straight at him.

  “Listen, Joey, don’t bullshit me. That’s why you’re really here, isn’t it? Admit it. You’re pathetic. And you’re wasting my time,” I hissed. I could hear the bones in his knuckles crack as he tightened his fists. I stood my ground, watching the veins in his jaw work. There was a time when I found dangerous men like this exciting. There was a time when the thought of being overpowered and dominated was sexy as hell to me. When someone like Joey Valenti seemed dark and powerful and irresistible.

  But all I saw now was his weakness.

  And it sickened me.

  Part of me wished he had enough balls to seduce me right now, properly; that he’d have the skill to fuck me like a real man, and not some thug with an entitlement problem. Being pressed up so close to him like this reminded me just how lonely I was. How neglected some parts of me were, after so many years in this cutthroat business. Still, poison is poison, no matter how hungry you are.

  With a quick, brutal movement he brought both his hands to my shoulders and shoved me back hard, so I tumbled back down onto my chair. He placed one shiny shoe on either side of my legs and towered over me, hands at his side. His face remained stony.

  “You don’t have any respect for authority, you know that?” he said in a low growl.

  “I respect skill, Joey, not authority.”

  He laughed.

  “That attitude won’t serve you well in the future.”

  “In the future? You mean, when you’re running the place?” I said and laughed as well. I tried to squeeze as much derision into that laugh as I could.

  “Yes, actually. I’m giving you an opportunity here, Evie. You can get in with me early, if you play your cards right… if I were you I wouldn’t be so ungrateful for the things that you’ve been handed on a platter and--”

  “Hey Joey, do you remember that time your dad had to go that gala? And I came over to look after you because the nanny was sick that day? You were so cute back then, so funny and sweet,” I said and flashed him a sarcastic smile.

  It took only a split second for the back of his hand to raise up and come whizzing through the air, slapping my cheek hard and jerking my head to the side. My hand came up to the stinging skin but I was already leaping to my feet, propelled by that ribbon of tension inside. Before I myself knew what I was doing, I had lunged towards him and had my hands wrapped around his throat. Like the fastest, scariest movie, images flicked through my mind: there was a gun under the sofa. Knives a few paces away in the kitchen. If it came to it, a cast iron cat sculpture beside my fire place would do…

  He staggered back as I threw my weight onto him and stabbed the points of my thumb into his neck. He gargled and twisted out of my grasp, looking at me with a shocked expression, but, of all things, smiling.

  I backed off into the corner of the living room, heart pounding, just daring for him to lay another hand on me. He looked amused, but he stood for a while, rubbing the sore spot on his neck. I could tell he was lost in a fantasy of how sorry I’d be once he was in charge and could do what he liked with me. But I already knew, I wouldn’t be sticking around for any of that.

  “Well fuck me, do you treat him like that?” he said and gathered himself. I couldn’t show him that I was afraid. He stood between me and the door, me and my phone, me and the cast iron sculpture.

  “Who the fuck are you talking about?” I yelled.

  He cast me a devilish smile.

  “You know damn well who I’m talking about. I’m just surprised, that’s all. Bit of an underling though, isn’t he?”

  “You’re crazy. Get out of my apartment.”

  “I don’t get it, you’ll go for some meathead nobody but turn down the offer of a lifetime with me. Why?”

  I nearly laughed out loud at the thought that letting him fuck me and then finding a place for me in his burgeoning little empire was the “offer of a lifetime.” Not only was his flimsy plan to take out Angelo a bad one, I had basically already beat him to it.

  I set my jaw and stared hard at him. I needed to figure out a way to get him out of here and fast.

  “No, I’m serious, I really want to know. There must be something really special about him, huh? Personally, I don’t think I see it…” He took a few menacing steps toward me.

  No. This wasn’t happening.

  “Joey, just go. Just leave right now, please,” I said. I instantly realized I had made a mistake. How could I appeal to the better nature of a man who didn’t even have one? Showing even just a little fear didn’t get him to back off. In fact, I could see how the thought that I was afraid was actually exciting to him.

  “I will. But only once I get what I’ve come for.”

  “Your father will hear about it,” I said. He wasn’t above …forcing me. I couldn’t even form the word in my mind. Rape. It was so ugly. So unreal. Not something that happened to a woman like me. But with each step he took towards me that possibility was cementing itself in my mind. I could take him. I could defend myself if I needed to. But I really, really didn’t want to.

  “If you like. Tell everyone. In fact, tell your guy how much you loved it, too.”

  “Jack has nothing to do with this,” I blurted.

  He was standing in front of me again, cornering me like an animal. I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to trigger the inevitable chase sequence I felt was just on the verge of erupting. But I didn’t want to simper and cower and try to placate him, either. That’s what everyone else did around him.

  He reached out and grabbed my shoulder. I slapped it off.

  “Joey, don’t do this.” But in a second he had lunged at me again and pinned me against the wall with is full body weight, his hot, horrible mouth pressing hard into mine. I screamed and tried to shove him off, but he blocked my path with his outstretched legs, trapping me there, one hand rapidly snaking under my blouse to paw at my breasts.

  For a moment, the world went white and empty, and it took a second for it to dawn on me.

  I froze.

  It was actually happening. Joey, the little shit I had always had a low-le
vel disdain for, the boss’s boy a good few years my junior, the baby we all had to give special treatment… was forcing himself on me.

  I snapped awake. I wasn’t going to let that happen. If it killed me I wouldn’t let him continue. Reaching deep down inside I found the energy to lash out against him and press him off of me, giving me a split second to raise up my leg and bring it square into his groin. He cried out and staggered back, bent in half, letting me dart quickly out of the corner. He grabbed my hair and halted me, but not before I had time to kick over the sculpture with my foot. It came banging to the ground.

  We tumbled to the floor as I tried to shake him off. He yanked at my hair, sending tearing pain all through my scalp. My skirt was now tangled around my knees and impeding my movement, but I lurched over and managed to grab the sculpture at its heavy metal base. In the same movement, I brought the sculpture up with all my might and swung it back overhead, landing it hard down onto his skull.

  His grip on my lower body instantly loosened and he recoiled back in pain. I wriggled free, stood up and raced off to get my phone. The statue still in my hands, I dialed the police number with shaking hands, not taking my eyes of his crumpled, writhing form on the floor.

  “Come at me again and I’ll kill you,” I said quietly. I knew he had heard me, even though he couldn’t lift his gaze to me. He hobbled to his knees, a hand clasping at a spot on the back of his neck. He was test blinking his eyes open and closed. I had knocked the rage out of him, that’s for sure. He was just confused now, just shocked that I could hit him as hard I had.

  “Fucking bitch,” he mouthed slowly.

  “Hello? There’s an intruder in my house. Seventy-six Washington avenue. He’s trying to kill me. Please send help immediately,” I said in as crisp a voice as I could.

  “The police? You have got to be kidding me,” he slurred.

  “Get out. Now!” I hissed, this time finding my voice. I was full of adrenaline and almost daring him to come close again so I could try another blow with my newfound weapon. He was on his feet now, but clearly unsteady. I took a step away from him and raised the sculpture a little in threat.