by Sam Mariano
I can’t hold back a smirk as we head out the door. “You’re such a dick.”
“She’s a terrible waitress,” he states. “She needs to find a new line of work. Or at least study up on who the fuck she should pay attention to in this town.”
That part is true.
“Should we get some dinner?” I ask him.
Sin checks his watch. “Can it wait an hour? I have a couple errands to run.”
“Sure. I’m gonna head home, just come over when you’re done and we’ll head out.”
4
Rafe
Sin is early. I’m not surprised; he usually is when he’s just paying me a visit. Occasionally he’s late on purpose to meet other people—a reminder that he’s a man you wait for, and if he wants to be late, he damn well will—but despite his occasional tendency toward solitary darkness, Sin is always a courteous professional to his superiors.
Not that I’m sure he thinks of me as a superior yet, but he will. They all will. Most of them do already. My transition to power hasn’t been too rough—a few bumps in the road, a few men caught under the wheels—but with the rightful heir to our family’s Vegas throne tucked away in Connecticut of all fucking places, no one had a better opportunity to reach for the throne than me. I was well-positioned, made myself some powerful friends in case I needed to call in temporary reinforcements to replace men I had to eliminate, but it has actually gone much more smoothly than I expected.
It’s almost anti-climactic.
Sin’s not convinced it’s over. He thinks I should’ve killed my cousin, Vince—the one whose father ran this town before he was killed. It’s not that Sin’s wrong, it’s more that I was really enjoying fucking Vince’s sister-in-law when she was in town, and killing Vince probably would’ve thrown a wrench in my fun. Plus, Vince isn’t a threat. His bloodline says he should be, but the kid wants nothing to do with this business. He’s not cut out for it. He settled down with a wife and bought a house in Connecticut, for fuck’s sake. That’s what giving up looks like.
At any rate, Vince isn’t a problem. If he ever decides to be, I’ll know. His little spy wife will tell Mateo, who will tell me, and then I’ll kill Vince and make both of us happy.
Well, not his wife. She actually likes the little bastard. Go figure.
Mateo’s a hell of a planner, I’ll give him that.
I pull open the door with the expectation of seeing Sin on the other side, but I can feel my forehead crease with confusion when I see the wrong person.
Cassandra Carmichael.
Confusion drifts to displeasure, but I pull my face into a cool smile and cock my head. “Strange. I didn’t order a whore today.”
Cassandra grins, her blue eyes sparkling with delight as she looks me over slowly, so I don’t miss it. “Nice to see you too, handsome.”
She waits in my doorway for me to return the favor, for my gaze to wander over her lithe form, currently wrapped up in a beige trench coat. She’s probably expecting my gaze to linger on her full lips, perfectly coated with her favorite shade—a classic red she pretends is effortless, but I know she undoubtedly dumped thousands of dollars on disappointing tubes until she found just the right shade. Her blonde hair is styled to perfection, as always, her blue eyes popping with all the artfully applied eye make-up.
Everything about Cassandra Carmichael is deliberately perfect, and she expects attention as payment for her efforts.
So I don’t look. My gaze doesn’t drift from her eyes. “You need to go,” I tell her, coolly. “I’m waiting for Sin, and if he shows up and sees you here, he might accidentally stab you.”
“Accidentally,” she says, rolling her eyes lightly. “Right.”
“That’s the official story.”
“If he stabs me, he owes me a new coat. This is Burberry.” Without waiting for me to invite her in, she ducks under my arm and creeps right past me.
I sigh, taking a step back as she looks around the foyer.
“Looks the same as I remember it.” She turns around, shooting me a smile that used to ignite desire in my veins. Her heels clack across my marble floor as she takes a few steps backward, toward my armoire. “It’s nice to see some things never change.”
“Just because you can’t see any changes, doesn’t mean nothing changed,” I inform her.
Sobering slightly, she nods her head. “That’s true. I heard about Ben. I’d say I’m sorry, but it looks like you’ve done nothing but benefit. Did you do it?”
I ignore her question and watch as she runs a hand over the knotted wood door of my armoire like it’s a lover she’s trying to seduce. She pulls the door open and peers inside at the various weapons.
A grin splits her face and she looks back at me. “This hasn’t changed.”
“Close it,” I tell her.
My command wipes the grin off her face. She regards me with much less playfulness as she closes the armoire and backs herself up against it. “Yes, master.”
Something sinks in my gut, and it shouldn’t. I’m immune to this bitch now. I’m done with her shit. Have been for a long time.
“What else would you like me to do?” she asks softly, running a hand along the edge of her coat. Her hand leads my gaze to the belt of her trench. I know before she does it what she’s intending, but she’s too fast for me to stop.
The coat falls over her slim shoulders and drops to the ground. She’s wearing only a black lacey bra and matching panties beneath.
This fucking bitch.
I keep my eyes on hers, a look of amused disinterest on my face. It’s the most insulting response I can muster when I have memories creeping into my head of her on her hands and knees, crawling across the floor toward me with lustful eyes, ready to lap the pre-cum off my dick like a hungry kitten.
Kitten.
Laurel flashes to mind. She would never do something like this. Or maybe she would, but in my mind she wouldn’t. If she did show up here, it would be because she actually wanted to see me—not because she’s trying to prostitute herself to buy her father some extra time to come up with money he’s never going to have.
It’s nice that I never really got to know Laurel. I can impose whatever reality on her I want to. Right now I choose sweetness, since the viper standing half-naked in my foyer is anything but sweet.
Cassandra mistakes my silence for a struggle—how hard it must be for me to resist her. God, she’s fucking egotistical. Her ego doesn’t serve her as she crosses the room now with more confidence than she should have and stops in front of me, placing her dainty, manicured hand on my chest.
“Tell me you’ve missed me, Rafe.”
“You don’t deserve that lie, Cassandra.”
Offering up a pretty pout, she does her best to look wounded. “If you want to hurt me, there are more fun ways than with harsh words.” She keeps her hand on my chest, lightly rubbing, but she reaches for my other hand and guides it between her legs.
She tries to, anyway. I know what happens if I get near that dark pit, so I exert just enough strength to halt her before she can.
“Touch me, Rafe. Show me who owns this pussy.”
“I don’t know who owns that pussy,” I tell her. “Furthermore, I don’t care.” I yank my wrist out of her grasp and reach up to dust her hand off my chest like it’s a speck of dirt. “I told your father, now I’ll tell you. I don’t have to pay for pussy, so I’m sure as hell not taking it as payment. And I would pay for pussy before ever getting near yours again. I gave your dad 24 hours when I left his club. Your appearance here after I specifically said I wasn’t interested just lost him two. Now, get dressed and stop embarrassing yourself before you lose him two more.”
Cassandra scowls at me, but makes no move to run over, retrieve her coat, and skitter her ass out of here, which is what I was hoping for.
“I’m not here for him,” she states, like I’ve insulted her. “I can’t believe you think that.”
“What else would I think, Cassandra?
Come on.”
She shakes her head, dropping the façade of bullshit. “You have it all wrong, Rafe. Honest. What’s between you and Daddy is business. I respect that. I’m not here trying to intercede on his behalf.”
“Then why are you here?”
Her gaze drops to my chest, then rises with a look of innocence she shouldn’t be able to pull off. There’s not a damn thing about this woman that’s innocent, but she’s always managed to fake it convincingly. “I wanted to before, but I was afraid to. I didn’t think you’d forgiven me.”
“I hadn’t.” I grimace inwardly as soon as the admission slips out. I shouldn’t tell her that. It’s best to pretend I didn’t give a fuck and let it go easily. Cassandra left me for a man with more power, and now that I’ve risen to the top, look who shows up nearly naked on my doorstep.
She’s an opportunistic cunt and I don’t have time for this shit.
“But then when you let Daddy borrow that money… well, I thought maybe you finally had. Maybe you finally forgave me for fucking up.” Her gaze drops again and she twirls a strand of blonde hair around her long finger. I almost crack a smile at her bullshit tricks. I would, if not for the fact that they’re usually pretty fucking effective. She’s gonna whip out the hair flip any minute, smiling at me like I’m king of the fucking world.
Manipulative whore.
It feels like she’s a snake in my house and I’m terrified she’s going to lay eggs I can’t get rid of. She’ll tuck them away in hidden places. I won’t notice them until I’m lying in bed awake one night, then one will surface. It’ll crack open and grow until it’s big enough to coil around my heart. I may have thought I owned Cassandra’s body, her pleasure, but she was the one with all the real power in that relationship.
Never again.
I’m just about to tell her she read too much into the loan, but the sound of my doorbell rings out and my shoulders sag with dread.
Goddammit.
Sin is going to flip the fuck out on me when he sees Cassandra here.
I roll the dread out of my shoulders as I step away from her and head for the door.
My housekeeper walks into the room and comes to a dead stop at the sight of Cassandra. Her eyes widen, probably not so much at Cassandra’s near-nakedness, but at who it is. She undoubtedly remembers Cassandra, as well as all the empty liquor bottles she had to clean up while I figured out how to get over her.
Juanita’s lips thin and her brown eyes narrow. Cassandra doesn’t mind. She flashes her a bright smile anyway. “I’ve missed you, too, Juanita.”
My housekeeper’s pleading gaze drifts to me, wordlessly begging for reassurance that this is not what it looks like. “I have it under control,” I assure her.
Normally she is confident in my judgment, but as she turns away, I sense a distinct lack of confidence regarding this one. Still, she knows her place and leaves me here to make my own mess, should I so desire.
“Ay, Dios mio. ¿Otra vez?” she mutters.
Oh my god, again?
I smile faintly. No, Juanita, we’re not going down that road again. I’ll set her mind at ease later. Right now I’m going to have to deal with Sin. He’s going to be less quietly unimpressed.
Only, when I pull open the door I am surprised by the face on the other side—again.
Laurel Price. Long waves of dark hair hang over her bare shoulders. Her cheeks are a little flushed. Her blue eyes light up when she meets my gaze and warmth washes right over me. No cool calculation, no visible number crunching. She isn’t a conniving bitch who has studied the hierarchy of power in Vegas and concluded I’m her best score; she’s just happy to see me.
“Hi,” she says, clasping her hands together in front of her awkwardly, like she’s not quite sure what to do with them.
I lean against the doorframe and look down at her. She’s not short, but compared to Cassandra she is. I tower over Laurel, especially with her a step below me on my front porch. Her eyes warm with remembered intimacy, probably especially looking up at me like this.
Much nicer, warmer memories stir of her looking up at me over Easter, when she stayed in my room instead of ever going back to her own. I’m not even sure if Mateo ever gave her a room, actually. He called me in specifically to seduce her, so probably not.
“Who’s that?”
The warmth on Laurel’s face vanishes and horror blossoms as Cassandra moves up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder like she’s casually staking her claim.
“Oh, my God. I’m interrupting.” Now Laurel frowns, shaking her head with self-recrimination. “Of course I’m interrupting. I showed up unannounced on your doorstep two months later—of course I’m interrupting. I would’ve called, but I—I couldn’t, because I didn’t have your…” She trails off, looking at Cassandra. She gives Cassandra an intimidated once-over, shaking her head. “This was a mistake. Please forget I was here.”
“Not so fast.” I grab Laurel’s arm before she can turn and flee the scene, shrugging Cassandra’s hand off my shoulder. “She’s no one. She was just leaving. You’re not interrupting.”
“She’s half-naked,” Laurel states. “More than half, actually. More like—”
“She was just leaving,” I state, more firmly. A little more in control of the situation now that Laurel is here, horrified and embarrassed, I look pointedly at Cassandra.
She doesn’t even protest. Holding her hands up in surrender, faintly raising an eyebrow, she says, “All right, I get it. When you’re done playing with your little mouse and proving whatever point your cock needs to make, you’ll want the pussy that can actually handle you. If you make it quick, maybe I’ll still be around.”
Laurel watches this exchange, taking in our words, tones, attitudes. Apparently painting herself an accurate picture, she flashes Cassandra a smile. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll be calling; mine handles him pretty well.”
I wouldn’t want my kitten’s claws scratching me, but she can drag them all over Cassandra anytime she likes. Even though I have no godly idea what she’s even doing in Vegas, let alone on my doorstep, I want to get a dig in, too, so I loop an arm around Laurel’s waist and tug her close, gazing down at her with open affection. “It certainly does.”
Laurel doesn’t understand why we’re playing this game, but she plays along like she does. Gazing up at me the way she did by Mateo’s pool, Laurel wraps her arms around my neck, pulls herself up on tiptoe, and leans in to kiss me.
Her lips are so soft and gentle. I remember how hungry she was for me, how desperate my touch made her. I remember the sounds that slipped out of her as I explored her body, the way she cried out the first time I made her come.
I cradle the back of her head in one of my hands and kiss her more deeply, remembering the softness of her skin, the sweet taste of her pussy.
She’s right here; I might as well have another taste.
Laurel pulls back, her chest working as she gazes up at me, biting down on her bottom lip. That’s my job. I bend to kiss her again, to get lost in her warmth, but Cassandra’s cool tone yanks me right out before I can make contact.
“You’ve made your point, Rafe.”
Cassandra’s blue eyes are cool as she regards me now, tying the belt of her trench coat. She cuts a look at Laurel, sizing her up, then she walks out the door without another word.
Like a vampire just fled the premises, I take Laurel’s arm and pull her inside, closing the door behind her before Cassandra can come back.
“So, what are you doing on my doorstep, kitten?”
She flushes with pleasure, ducking her head and looking at the veined marble floor. Her long dark waves fall in her face, but they sway right back as she looks up at me. “Would you believe I was just in the neighborhood?” she asks, lightly.
A faint smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Not really.” A new possibility crops up, the most likely reason she is in town, and I don’t like it. Still, I keep my tone casual. “In town with Vince and you
r sister?”
Laurel shakes her head. I’m relieved. Didn’t feel like killing the little fucker today. Sin and I are supposed to have dinner, for fuck’s sake.
“Just me,” Laurel says.
“And you’re in Vegas because…?”
She shifts her weight again. Damn, she is nervous. More nervous than she was before. I don’t know her well enough to guess why.
“Actually, at the risk of sounding like a stalker… I came to see you.”
5
Laurel
The man does not look nearly as put off as he should at the prospect of me being a stalker.
“Oh yeah?” he asks, seeming to like the idea. “Did you creep in last night and watch me sleep?”
“Of course not; I would have climbed in bed with you and made my presence known.”
“Mm, you’re full of good ideas,” he tells me, warmly. “I almost regret having such an adequate security set-up now. There’s no way you could ever do that, and it’s quickly becoming a fantasy of mine.”
“Well, I could give you the name of my hotel and you could sneak into mine instead,” I suggest, smiling.
“I like that, too.” Now he grabs my hips and tugs me close, encircling my waist with his strong arms. “Except the part where you got a hotel room. If you’re in town to see me, you should be staying with me.”
“You’re really bad at being stalked,” I tell him. “You’re not supposed to be so accommodating. You’re going to get victim-blamed really hard.”
“Believe it or not, I think I can handle myself against a 19-year-old science nerd,” he states, catching a strand of my hair between his fingers and rubbing. “Your hair is different.”
“Well, on average hair does grow a half inch every month, so it’s probably about an inch longer. I wouldn’t have thought a noticeable difference, but…”
“I’m good at noticing things,” he remarks.