Twisted City: (Twisted City Book 1)

by Rebekah Vasick

  “You can borrow a t-shirt to sleep in and I even have a spare toothbrush for you.” A smile slinks across his lips momentarily before fading away when I refuse to reciprocate. “Are you worried about staying with me?”

  Before answering, I tuck my hair behind my ears while averting my gaze. “Not exactly,” my timid voice replies.

  He caresses the side of my face with his fingertips.

  “Are you worried about me seeing you half naked?” The mischievous grin emerges.

  “No.”

  “Liar,” he says, encouraging a giggle to emerge from my lips.

  “Okay. Maybe a little,” I admit.

  “What else?”

  “Nothing,” I say, causing him to chuckle. “Ange. I'm not lying.”

  “In the five months we've known each other, I've learned a few things about you. One of them is that when you lie, your eyes grow two sizes bigger. And another is that you only call me Ange when you're mad at me.”

  “I'm not mad,” I mumble.

  “Just a little frustrated because I’m right?”

  My mouth opens to respond, only to close once again.

  He is right, but I'm not about to admit that.

  Another chuckle escapes his lips before he envelopes me within his arms and guides my head to rest against his chest. The rhythmic beat of his heart soothes me.

  “So, what's worrying you?” he prods.

  Though he can't see my face, it glows, nonetheless. “Why do you want me to stay?”

  His soft lips rest on the top of my head. “Do you not want to stay?”

  My fingertips seek for his tie, freeing it from his vest and fumble with it.

  “No, I do. I'm just not sure if I'm ready to…” My words falter.

  “I thought we already discussed this?”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.” I release a haggard sigh. “I’m afraid you won’t like me when you see my body.”

  “Why?” he says, tilting my chin up so I’ll look at him.

  “Because I have mutations.”

  He arches one eyebrow. “What, like an extra arm growing out your stomach? Another set of eyeballs?”

  “No, nothing like that,” I say between giggles. “Besides, you’d notice an extra arm under my dress.”

  “Then what are you afraid of?”

  “Remember I told you about the scar on my side?”

  He nods.

  “It’s not the only one I have.”

  “Remember me telling you scars don’t bother me?”

  “But I’m covered in them and Elodie said you love all things beautiful.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed and wait for him to banish me from his life forever.

  When he says nothing, I open one eye and witness him smiling at me. Nothing but love expels from those ocean-blue eyes I adore.

  “Eva, I’m not that shallow and as for Elodie…” He averts his gaze as if recalling a memory, though I can’t determine if it’s a fond one or not. “You’re beautiful to me. Inside and out. And who cares if you’re covered in scars? I’ll still love you.”

  A wide smile spreads across my face and I wrap my arms around his neck.

  I bury my face into the collar of his jacket. “I love you too,” I mumble into the material.

  He kisses the top of my head. “So will you stay?”

  I nod.

  “Shall we go up?”

  It is me that seeks for his hand and laces our fingers together, and me who helps him rise from the floor. As he leads me up the stairs, my fingertips glide along the smooth, varnished bannister, and only after we reach the second floor do I draw my hand away, to encircle it around his arm and close the gap between us. I nestle against him, allowing the softness of his jacket to caress my cheek as we proceed onward.

  “Everything okay?” he asks.

  My eyes flutter up to greet him to discover the forlorn expression has returned. “Yes, I'm fine.”

  He tightens his fingers around mine for a moment, before relaxing them once again.

  Ahead of us, I notice an opened door to our right, allowing a pale, yellow glow to seep into the hallway. This must be his bedroom. The sudden discovery awakens the hummingbird, causing her to flap her wings in excitement.

  As we step across the threshold into the room, he liberates me, allowing my feet to pause, while my eyes scan the room, drinking in the new sights. I'm reminded of his club. Dark blue wallpaper dresses the walls, while plush ebony carpet lines the floors. To my right, is a large double bed, bedecked in midnight blue satin sheets with matching ebony nightstands and silver lamps emitting a dim light.

  My eyes flicker to Angelo and watch as he opens the doors to his walk-in closet. My closet could fit in there five times, easily. With fascination, I observe how he finds a naked hanger from within the cramped prison of his suits and shirts and proceeds to dress it with his vest and suit jacket, before returning them back with their siblings. And then I notice the shoulder holster he’s wearing.

  The memory of him with his gun in hand filters in my mind, causing my limbs to quiver. Angelo must have a telepathic power because he glances over his shoulder. He curses, removes the holster, and hides it away in his wardrobe before rushing towards me and gathers me in his arms.

  “I’m sorry, angel. I wasn’t thinking,” he murmurs, running his fingers through my hair.

  “No, I’m sorry. It takes me back to the Don’s house. Is that dumb?”

  “No. More like PTSD. Eva, I wish I could take that memory away from you. Or turn back time and make it so it never happened,” he says, kissing the top of my head.

  I nestle in closer, allowing his warmth to envelope me. “This is helping.”

  “Do you want to change?”

  I nod.

  He releases me and returns to his closet. I hadn’t noticed the hidden dresser.

  “Sorry it's not Snoopy, but it should do for tonight,” he says, tugging a white t-shirt free from the drawer.

  “Oh, very funny.”

  He turns to face me, wearing his mischievous grin.

  “Bathroom’s through there,” he says, gesturing with his head towards the door beside me and handing me the t-shirt.

  I shed my jacket and slip off my shoes before entering the bathroom. In the brightly lit room, I notice how white it is from the wall tiles to the floor. Though I anticipate a chill under my feet when I step on the ceramic floor tiles, I'm surprised to find it’s comfortably warm. A large shower, hidden behind a frosted screen resides to my left, while straight ahead of me sits two sinks with a large mirror mounted on the wall and a variety of toiletries along a glass shelf. His fragrance imbues every room in his house, but I discover it’s at its strongest in this bathroom. A warm glow radiates through me as I inhale deeply.

  As I hold the shirt up against me, I discover to my dismay that it's insufficient to cover the scars on my legs.

  It'll be okay, I silently reassure myself, though I have to plead with my limbs to disrobe from my blue dress and slip on the t-shirt.

  I gasp when I stare down at the hideous scars on my legs, finding they've become more prominent than usual. My fingertips trace the outline of the scars as I contemplate how to disguise them. Maybe I can tug the t-shirt low enough and slip out of the bathroom and into the bed before he notices them.

  I procrastinate a little longer, taking my time brushing my teeth and washing my face, and once I’ve run out of excuses to stay in here, I peep outside the bathroom to discover Angelo has changed into sweatpants, leaving his torso bare. As I shamelessly ogle him, I see the scars on his back. As if he senses my presence, he turns towards me, wearing a radiant smile.

  “Hey, angel. Everything okay?” he asks.

  “Yep,” I say in a strangled voice.

  “Want me to turn around?”

  Gosh, I love him.

  “Yep.”

  He chuckles and turns he back towards me, where I dart across the room and dive under the covers, pulling the satin fab
ric up to my chin, and watch him.

  He searches through his drawers for something, allowing me to observe the muscles in his naked back. I've only ever felt the hardness of his body through his clothes before, and now I can't convince my eyes to gaze elsewhere, nor abate the hummingbird's desires to search for a way out of my chest. A hand flutters up to my mouth, where I chew on a fingernail. Even with his body scarred, he remains beautiful.

  A hot blush stains my cheeks as he turns to acknowledge me ogling him. The mischievous grin materializes on his lips before he swaggers towards me.

  “Is there room for me in there?” he teases.

  I release the comforter, allowing him access, while tugging on the shirt to hide my already concealed scars. He nestles himself beside me, lying on his side with his elbow resting on the pillow, and cradles his cheek in the palm of his hand. As he gazes at me, his free hand flutters up to draw my hand away from my mouth.

  “Come here,” he murmurs.

  Though my mind hesitates, my body obeys, nestling beside him, and absorbing the heat that radiates from him. He cradles me with his free hand while gazing into my eyes. My body awakens. Even my breath shudders along with the rapid beat of my heart. My fingertips caress the smooth skin of his chest until they reach the first imperfection. I lower my gaze and find a star shaped scar on his shoulder. “How did you get that?”

  “I got shot,” he says nonchalantly.

  My eyes snap back to his. “What?”

  He shrugs. “Occupational hazard.” He leans away from me, exposing his bare chest, littered with scars. “How can I judge you if I’m covered in ‘mutations’ myself?”

  With delicate fingertips, I trace the outlines of his imperfections. One corner of my mouth curves.

  “Is it weird to be turned on by them?” My cheeks flush when I comprehend what I just blurted out.

  He chuckles, drawing me into his warm embrace. “Not at all. Scars are sexy.”

  The mischievous grin appears again and I giggle. He laughs and nuzzles into my hair before his lips search for mine. I’m amazed by how right this feels, lying here, in his arms, in his bed, kissing him. It’s as if we’ve done this from the moment we met.

  As I lose myself to him, my body yearns for his touch and I silently implore him to investigate my body. Yet his fingers remain entangled in my hair. I lower my hands, allowing my fingertips to dance along his skin, feeling every hard muscle in his back.

  “Angelo,” I breathe.

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “Touch me.”

  Without further hesitation, he slips one hand down my side, reaching around to the small of my back. But it isn’t enough. I want his skin pressing against mine.

  I gather his hand and lead it under my shirt and gasp at his soft touch. No longer do I care about my mutations, and neither does he as he reaches the first one on my side. He continues his journey up my chest, caressing each burn, each slice on my skin, expressing his love for me all the more. He reaches my breast, allowing his fingertips to dance along my nipple. I moan into his mouth and curl my leg around his, drawing him closer, wanting him more. He rolls us over and rests his weight on me.

  A flash of a merciless smile flickers before my mind. Then the myopic lust burning within hate-filled eyes. I’m transported back to John’s car, with him clamping my wrists within his grip. His tongue snakes along my naked chest and I open my mouth to scream, yet it’s lodged in my throat.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” his voice is distant.

  My voice tears from my throat. “Get off me!”

  In an instant, I feel the cool air on me. I open my eyes to find I’m in Angelo’s room. I slap my hands over my mouth as my gaze finds him sitting back on his heels with panic in his eyes.

  “Angelo,” I sob. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  Within seconds, I’m back within his embrace.

  “It’s okay, angel,” he soothes me. “It’s okay.”

  My body shudders with my sobs. “It was him. It was John.”

  “I know,” he whispers, stroking my hair. “It’s okay. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  He tightens his arms around me, allowing me to cry.

  Come morning, I wake to find I’m still cradled in Angelo’s arms. I tilt my head up as he lowers his.

  “Morning, angel,” he says, kissing my forehead.

  “Morning,” my voice is still thick with sleep.

  “Did you sleep okay?”

  “Yes.” The memories of last night slip in, humiliating me. “Angelo, I’m so sorry about last night.”

  “Don’t be. I should have known better. It’s too soon after your attack.”

  Is it though? Or am I tarnished forever?

  It wasn’t John only who slithered back into my mind last night. I was also visited by memories of someone much darker and more sinister. Has my past ruined all hope of me ever having a normal life? Though I overcame my fear of Angelo seeing my imperfections, now I have a greater nightmare to overcome. One I thought I’d buried deep enough to never resurface.

  Oh, how wrong I was.

  Since the first night at Angelo’s three months ago, I’ve spent almost every night at his house. The first morning we shared, he cleared out a drawer for me. I didn’t realize how big a deal this was for him until I told Alice. After she clasped her cheeks and finished her round of “aww’s,” she explained that not only has Angelo never had a girlfriend in his life before me, but he was adamant that he would never settle down. I must be special in his eyes. Of course, it made me melt.

  Angelo and I are joined at the hip, or mouth in most cases. Unless he’s off working for Don Bellini, we’re at the club or home or at a restaurant.

  We attend parties, and while the men are off smoking cigars and drinking whiskey, the ladies are expected to mingle. Though Alice and I sit on a sofa and gossip. Maybe it’s our lineage, not the slightest drop of Italian blood in us, but they’ve chosen to exclude us from their group. Not that we care because they’re so superficial. They seem to enjoy complaining about their husbands, their kids, and even their lovers. So Alice and I are fine keeping to ourselves. It seems we’ve managed to snag the only two men who are actually loyal to their women.

  The club isn't open to the public on Sundays, allowing Angelo and Frankie the opportunity to work on administration. Of course, I’m there helping out where I can. Though, usually, things take longer than they should because Angelo and I can’t keep our hands off each other.

  Today’s no different from any other Sunday. Angelo envelopes me in his arms and claims my lips for what must be at least the fiftieth time today.

  “Seriously?” Frankie complains. “Could you at least take it out there?”

  Angelo breaks the kiss and I glance over to his brother. He’s sitting by the desk with paperwork strewn across it. He has his head in his hands as he stares at us.

  “Sorry, Frankie,” I say, offering him an innocent smile.

  “Eva, you know I love you, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But sometimes, I wish you weren’t dating my brother. We’d have been finished hours ago,” he mutters.

  Angelo’s laughter rumbles. He tightens his arms around me and nuzzles into my hair.

  “Sorry, amico. I’m never letting her go,” he says.

  Frankie grumbles before laughing. He releases a content sigh.

  “As nauseating as you two are, I’m happy for you,” he admits.

  I turn back towards Angelo and run my fingers through his hair, pulling him back for a kiss.

  “Oh, come on,” Frankie groans. “I wasn’t consenting to watching you two suck each other’s faces off.”

  “Should we leave him alone for a while?” I whisper to Angelo.

  He sighs. “Can’t believe I’m getting kicked out of my own office.”

  “I’ll treat you to a whiskey.”

  His lips caress my ear. “How about I sit you on the bar and—”

 
“I can still hear you!” Frankie bellows.

  “What?” Angelo says, his face full of innocence. “I was going to say give her a hug.”

  “Uh-huh. And I’m the Pope.”

  The mischievous grin materializes on Angelo’s face. “Come on, Eva. Let’s leave the grumpy old man over there alone.”

  He releases me from his embrace and gathers my hand in his, lacing our fingers together, and leads us out of the office. We don’t make it far before he pins me against the wall, resting the warmth of his body against me. With one hand, he runs his fingertips along my neck and entangles them in my hair. A rush of warmth spreads through my body as my senses awaken. I gaze up into his eyes and gasp. One corner of his mouth hitches up before he leans closer. Our noses kiss before he glides the tip of his down the length of mine. My eyes flutter closed as I await his kiss.

  Though I’ve become accustomed to him, the shape of his mouth, the feel and taste of his tongue, it’s like we’re having our first kiss and still learning about each other. About our wants and desires, exploring each other. I unfasten the buttons of his suit jacket and slip my hands in and around his back, pulling him closer, bathing in his warmth as I lose myself to him.

  He runs his free hand down my side and around to the small of my back, where he pulls me tighter still.

  “Hello, princess,” the chilling voice from my nightmares says.

  My eyes pry open. Icy tendrils slither around my spine, spreading their vines throughout my body until I’m completely cased in ice.

  Angelo still has his arms around me but turns towards the voice. My wide eyes swivel towards my worst fear. My mouth hangs agape, my bottom lip quivers and a fresh film of tears obscures my vision.

  Wake up, Eva. It’s a dream. It’s a nightmare, I try to tell myself.

  But even I know I’m not dreaming this time.

  The warmth of Angelo’s body disappears. And then I see him a few steps ahead of me.

  “Who are you and why are you in my club?” he demands.

  “You know, it's customary to ask for the father's permission before dating his daughter,” my father says.

  “Daughter?” Angelo asks.

  My father's laughter remains just as I remember it: deep and malicious. “She never told you about us, did she?”