A plump man with glasses, dressed in a dark suit fit snug to his thick frame, greeted us outside. “Do you need help carrying him inside?”
“No, we’re okay,” Nino said.
We didn’t exchange names, as was customary in our line of work. He was a concierge doctor on the Parisi payroll to assist in times like this.
Mark had started using drugs back in high school. He was never like Isabella, always a giant fuck-up, even though she thought she was the family disappointment. This wasn’t the first time we’d hauled Mark’s ass out of a crack house or had to teach a supplier a lesson for dealing to him. His drug of choice was cocaine until my father had him cut off.
No one was allowed to sell him as much as a pinch of powder without my father’s approval. He controlled most of the drug trade in New York, and what he didn’t control was handled by one of his associates. Apparently, Mark had resorted to harsher drugs like heroin. He had the track marks on his arms to prove it.
I hauled Mark over my shoulder and shut the car door. Nino was at my side, throwing Mark’s arm across the back of his neck, helping me drag him to the pool house. Once inside, I was in awe of the sheer size of the space. Couches were at the center of the living room, the white fabric so pristine they looked as though they’d never been sat on. An oversized bar occupied most of the wall on the right side of the room, opposite the kitchen.
We passed through the small dining area and followed the doctor into a bedroom with a large master bathroom. In all the years I’d helped the Parisis, I had never been inside the house, never saw where Isabella slept. Now I was here, I was somewhat curious. The pool house was bigger than most people’s homes, and yet it didn’t even compare to the villa that spanned most of the property.
“On the bed?” I asked the doctor.
“In the bathroom, please.”
A tub was already filled and waiting for us. The doctor stood in front of Mark, pulling off his shirt and pushing down the track pants over his thighs. Mark groaned and laid his head on Nino’s shoulder. I hoped he wasn’t about to puke on him.
Leaving Mark in his boxers, we set him in the tub. This was by far one of the worst jobs our father had ever asked of us. We could have made much better use of our time. Was this payback for seeing Isabella behind his back? He knew everything, and so I was almost positive my dad knew I was with Isabella.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” the doctor said to us before we left the bathroom.
We exited the house and made a beeline toward the car. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a shadow move. I strained to get a better look, positive I was hallucinating.
Nino tapped me on the shoulder to gain my attention. “Wanna grab a few beers at Cowgirls?”
Alessio spent most of his time at the strip club our father owned. He used it as his headquarters for our crew. Tonight, we were supposed to be free, which was why I’d asked Isabella to meet me for dinner. The last thing I wanted to do was hang out with Alessio on my night off, but Nino was eager for us to go.
I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
I was about to get in the car when the shadow moved again, and this time, Robert Parisi stepped into the light. He had dark hair with some silver in it, his jawline strong and serious, with a bit of stubble. One look from this man pierced right through you. It was as if he didn’t have a soul or a care in the world other than the imaginary crown rested atop of his overprivileged head.
Robert raised his hand and held up two fingers, beckoning me to come forward.
I was surprised he could tell Nino and me apart. Most people had trouble when they didn’t know us.
When I approached him, Robert stuffed a stack of hundred dollar bills in my hand. I tried to return them, but he refused, taking a few steps back from me.
“How much will it take for you to stop seeing my daughter?”
I turned away from him and sighed. It was only a matter of time before we had this conversation. Why was I even surprised?
“Is this how you get rid of anyone who talks to Isabella?”
“You’re not just talking. Don’t think for one second I don’t know what goes on with my daughter. She will marry into the Vos family, and you will not get in the way.”
Moving my hands to my hips, I pushed up my jacket enough to reveal the gun at my waist. The Senator’s eyes fell to the gun for a second, his jaw clenched. “I don’t take kindly to threats, boy. Keep your distance from Isabella, or you and your family will pay the price.”
“And what is that?”
“Do you like your freedom?” His eyes were so dark and cold, his tone even colder. “Would you like to have it taken away from you?”
My jaw flexed in anger, my hands balled into fists at my sides. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m a very powerful man. You might not know what I’m capable of firsthand, but your father does. I won’t repeat my warning. Stay away from Isabella.”
Without another word, he turned his back to me and stomped off toward the house. I considered sinking a bullet into the back of his entitled skull but thought better of it. There would come a time when Senator Parisi would have to answer for his sins. And I planned to make him suffer for them.
Chapter Eighteen
Isabella
My body ached from all the ways Stephan had fucked me the night before. But at least the pain and the throbbing between my thighs left me with the reminder it was real. That Stephan was real. Sometimes, I’d wondered if I had imagined it all.
The night in my suite.
The hood of my car.
The bench at the restaurant.
I was afraid that one day I would wake up, and I wouldn’t have him anymore. Losing Stephan was my greatest fear. He was my addiction, my salvation, and without him, I thought I would lose my grip on reality. Because he was all I had left to keep me grounded.
I rolled over, the sun from the curtains hitting me in the face, forcing me to cover my eyes with my hand. It was too early in the morning, especially after the night I’d had with Stephan. He was insatiable, always ready for me, as I was for him. And I wanted more. I always wanted more of Stephan.
I was content with covering my head with the pillow and falling back to sleep, when I heard yelling downstairs. Our house was massive, an estate divided into sections that almost made it impossible to hear a sound. My bedroom was in the East wing, my father’s in the West, and my mother’s in the South, each of us occupying different parts of the mansion. Mark’s bedroom was down the hall from my mother’s, but he spent most of his time in the pool house to avoid making his drug problem more noticeable.
My room, on the other hand, was above my father’s study. The noise traveled straight up the air vent, the muffled voices of my parents filling the silent air. It was strange for my parents to speak to each other outside of public events. Knowing they were together, and arguing over something, piqued my interest. On occasion, they’d eaten meals on opposite ends of the long dining table with their faces buried in their cell phones or newspapers.
But this morning was different.
I sat up, tugged the black silk robe at the edge of my bed over my shoulders, and tied it around my waist. If my parents were fighting over something, I had to know if I was the cause of their unnecessary interaction. It was better to be prepared for a duel with my father, rather than be ambushed later.
After I slid on a pair of fuzzy slippers, I crept out of my room and down the hall, taking the back stairwell. One foot at a time, I moved closer to the commotion, my ears strained to hear every last word. My father’s voice was like a growl that startled me. He almost never showed any emotion when it came to my mother. Their marriage was one of convenience, my mother the perfect Stepford wife who gave him two children to round out his perfect little political family.
“Robert, I’m sorry.” My mother sobbed as if she’d been crying.
“Sorry isn’t good enough this time,” he shot back, his voice sharp and angry.
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“It has to be.” She sniffed. “Let me explain.”
Like my father, she never showed an ounce of emotion. My mother’s behavior was far from the norm. She was a coldhearted bitch. Even at my grandmother’s funeral—her mother—her face remained stoic, devoid of any feelings. She looked no different from a corpse. My mother never helped me with my homework, dressed me for a dance, or even brushed my hair as a child. All of those responsibilities were left to the staff. To Carmella, the only woman who’d ever cared about me.
I loathed my parents. The only reason I never left was because I knew my father had enough power to hunt me down. And he would make me pay when he found me. He always did. No matter how hard I tried to run from my family and our pasts, it was never far enough, always within his reach. A man who had no limits was impossible to escape. That was why I threw myself at Stephan. I’d hoped he could save me. In some ways, he did.
“If you weren’t sneaking around behind my back, this never would have happened,” my father said.
I was at the bottom of the stairs, with my back flat against the wall, slowly inching toward his office.
“If not for you abandoning us, our family would still be whole,” my mother challenged, now sounding more confident in her words.
Were the waterworks all for show? Knowing her they were. She was a brilliant actress, the master of manipulation, where he was just cruel and cunning.
“We had a deal, Elizabeth, and you broke it. After this campaign is over, I want you out of my house and out of my life. For good.”
“You act like I was ever a part of your life.” Her heels clicked on the wooden floor and stopped, as if she was now standing in front of him. “None of us were ever a factor in the life of Senator Parisi. I made certain decisions to make you happy, whether you realize it or not and whether or not they were the right ones. But I held up my end of the bargain. You wanted two children, a wife who obeyed and served, and I did as I was asked. As far as I’m concerned, I have fulfilled my contractual obligations to you and this family.”
Her words sliced through me like a machete to the gut. I knew she hated us, resented us because of my father. But it still hurt to hear the woman who’d given birth to me say those things about us, as if we were all replaceable.
“You gave me a lie,” he said. “All of it. And now I have to embrace that lie because you were honoring our deal. I want both of you out of my life. One way or the other, I will make sure that happens.”
Both of you? Was he talking about me? Mark? Her lover? I had no idea who he was referring to, but I was hoping it was me. More than anything, I wanted to be free of him and his impossible standards and demands.
“We’ll see about that,” she muttered.
The fight ended with my mother storming out of the office and into the hallway. I had to slide further down the wall to avoid her seeing me. That was all I needed was to be caught sneaking around, listening to their conversations.
“Carmella,” she yelled at the top of her lungs. Her voice echoed off the high ceiling in the foyer.
Carmella power walked down the hallway, her body tense as she moved past me to meet my mother. “Yes, Mrs. Parisi.”
“Get my jacket and purse and have Javier bring the car around. I’m going to the city. Call Rosario. Make sure the apartment is fully stocked and ready for the week.”
I let out a sigh of relief.
Our family owned properties all over New York. The lavish apartment in Manhattan, on the Upper East Side, was my mother’s oasis. She spent most of her time there, while my father shuffled between Washington D.C. and Long Island. If not for his campaign, I would have been free of them both.
“Yes, Mrs. Parisi,” Carmella said before she walked away to grab her things and ring her driver who waited around on standby.
I was about to ascend the stairs, one foot on the bottom step, when my father shouted, “You had better be back in time for the fundraiser, or so help me God, I will make you suffer.”
I shuddered at his comment.
How could I be the offspring of such vile people?
An hour later, I was getting ready for the day, still wrapped in a towel from the shower, when Carmella knocked on my door and then stepped inside, closing it behind her.
“How are you, Isabella?” She approached me with her arms open wide to embrace me.
“Not great,” I confessed, hugging her back.
She smelled of fresh flowers and mint, and most of all, she reminded me of home. Not the one I lived in, the one I’d created in my mind when I was a child. The place where I went to escape my reality. Carmella wasn’t the paid help to me—she was everything good in my life.
I retreated into my walk-in closet, pulled on a pair of shorts and a tank top, and then sat next to Carmella on the bed. “Did you hear the entire conversation earlier?”
She shook her head. “I’ve trained myself to ignore anything that goes on inside this house.”
“You had to have heard something. Do you know what they were arguing about?”
“Sorry, sweetie, I wish I did. I was in the back of the house until your mother called for me. I had my hands full, too busy to pay any attention to your parents.”
“My dad said he wants her out of the house.”
“Your parents will never get a divorce. Don’t worry.” She took my hand in hers and rubbed the top of it with her thumb to soothe me. “Your mom might go away for a while, but she will come back. She always does.”
“I don’t know,” I confessed, leaning my head on her shoulder. “I hope they get a divorce. They’re horrible together. That’s not what bothers me. He said he wants her and someone else out of his life. Is she having an affair with someone?”
“Who knows, mi amore. Nothing would surprise me at this point. Your parents spend more time apart than together. It’s been like that since before you were born. When Mark was born, your dad was halfway around the world. He didn’t even bother to come home until a week later. Some people are not meant to be parents.”
“How have you worked for him for this long? He’s awful. So is my mom. They way they talk to you and the staff makes me sick. How can you even stand it?”
“Your father has his moments.” She leaned her head against mine and cradled me. “He’s not all bad. He helped me move to the States.”
“That was about the only good thing he ever did.” I sighed. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Carm. Wherever I end up, I hope you’re there with me.”
“You’ll always have me. Stop worrying. It’s time to get you ready.”
I sat up straight and helped her stand from the bed. “He wants me to marry Karl Vos. Do you remember that little snot-nosed boy? He came here a few times when I was younger for play dates.”
She laughed. “Yes. He was a little unusual.”
“I can’t marry him, Carm. I won’t do it. I’ve let my dad control everything, but I’ve had enough. I told him no. I’m putting my foot down.”
“Sometimes, it’s better to go with the flow than to fight him.”
My smile turned into a frown in an instant. “You too? Are you kidding me?”
“Of course not. I would never want you to marry a man you don’t love. But your father always seems to find a way to get what he wants.”
I grunted in frustration, dragging her by the hand into the closet. “I know. That’s the problem. For once, I would like him to get what’s coming to him. Everything can’t go his way all the time. I just wish I knew how to punish him. Seeing Stephan DeLuca doesn’t seem to be doing the trick.”
Carmella’s eyes widened in shock. “Isabella, are you crazy? Your dad would never allow it.”
I flashed a victorious smile. “That’s why it feels so good to disobey him. I know it’s killing him, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.”
“Be careful.” She placed a hand on my shoulder, looking at me in the full-length mirror on the wall. “I don’t want you to get hurt.
“Too late for that,” I admitted.
I was already falling in love with the enemy.
Chapter Nineteen
Stephan
I sat in my father’s office next to Nino, with Alessio on his right, all of us waiting for the old man to speak. He folded his hands on top of the wooden desk, glaring at me with a look of pure hatred in his eyes. My dad was furious with me for seeing Isabella behind his back, even after he told me to stop. I was forced to listen to him yell for over an hour after I’d arrived at his house that morning.
The Senator had shared our tense conversation with my dad, the one where he threatened me. He reminded him of the repercussions of me dating Isabella. We weren’t dating. Fucking didn’t count. The wording I had used didn’t matter. Because Isabella Parisi would marry Karl Vos, and a criminal like me wasn’t going to get in the way of the Senator’s plans. He made that crystal clear. So did my father.
The office was located in the unfinished basement below the main house, disconnected from modern technology and encased in enough cement to make it impossible for the Feds to get a tap on us. We had complete privacy down here.
Leaning back in his leather chair, my dad loosened his black-and-red pinstriped tie and tugged on his collar. He pinned down Alessio with his cold gaze. “I need you to do something for a client. It’s a delicate matter.”
“What do you need us to do?” Alessio never said no, always did what he was told.
To some extent, so did I. But Isabella was an exception. My weakness.
He removed a brown box from the bottom drawer of his desk and slid it toward Alessio. “I need you to plant a device on a car. It will be parked in the garage on 10th Street. Be careful. Make sure the driver doesn’t see you.”
Without hesitation, he said, “When?” Alessio lifted the box and glanced inside, before closing the lid. He balanced it on his knee, with his hand on top to hold it in place.
Cruel King: An Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 11