Greed (A Sinful Empire Trilogy Book 1)

by Eva Charles

  Interesting. I didn’t put a time limit on the chat, and it’s unlikely she cares about taking advantage of her host. She’s kept up a good front. Maybe she’s taken all she can of the ruse. I think even Isabel has been assured that Daniela is safe and will be returning to the US soon.

  “I miss you both so much.”

  Just one song, Valentina chirps, and starts singing, urging Daniela to sing too. And she does.

  Her voice is sweet and slightly off-key as she dances in the chair.

  “I’ll call again as soon as I can. Isabel, answer your phone, even if you don’t recognize the number. My service is spotty here, so I don’t know what phone I’ll be using.”

  After some kissy noises, the room gets deathly quiet.

  I glance over at the conference table. Daniela’s face is buried in her arms. I can’t tell if she’s crying.

  I feel powerless, which is not a feeling I have often—or at all, anymore. There’s always something I can do. But not about this.

  There’s nothing I can say or do to make this better, or to change her fate—or mine. It takes everything I have not to turn over my desk and stomp out of the room, destroying everything in my path.

  After a few minutes, she gets up and walks out without a word.

  My stomach burns with all the things I could have said but didn’t.

  And as if this day hasn’t already been a fucking nightmare, I’m visiting my uncle this afternoon.

  37

  Antonio

  “Boa tarde,” I say in a clipped tone as I enter Abel Huntsman’s hospital room.

  “Good afternoon,” Tomas replies, drawing out the greeting while he picks his jaw up off the floor.

  “How is he?”

  Tomas eyes me as though he’s unsure how to respond. “It doesn’t look good.”

  I don’t extend any condolences, because I’m not sorry the bastard is on his deathbed. Instead, I nod and step over to the bed to assess the situation for myself.

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” he says, probing around the edges. What he really wants to say is, What the fuck are you doing here? But he doesn’t have the balls.

  I saw what I came to see and step away from the decrepit man in the hospital bed. Abel dying is a mixed bag. Tomas isn’t capable of running the company, and it’s going to cause a great deal of instability in the region, and perhaps an attempted power grab from outside. It has the potential to become a real thorn in my side.

  “He’s still my uncle,” I reply sharply, not that I owe the dumb fuck a response. “And even if he wasn’t, I’m the president of the foundation. It’s my job to make sure there are no wrinkles in this year’s production.”

  Tomas taps his foot against the faux wood floor, not like he’s jonesing to throw a punch, but like he’s a nervous little bitch.

  “Give us a moment, please,” I tell the young nurse, fiddling with one of the wires attached to a monitor.

  After she scurries out, I turn a hard gaze on my cousin.

  “Do you need help running the company?”

  If he were almost anyone else, I would broach the subject with more sensitivity. No one likes their competency called into question. And men, especially, hate asking for help.

  “From you?” he scoffs. “I’m all set.”

  Bullshit. “What provisions are in place to secure Premier’s holdings if he dies?”

  “If you’re asking if Rafael will get his hands on any of the property, the answer is no. Not the lodge, the vineyards, not a bottle of Premier Port, not a single goddamn grape. My father saw to that the day the little traitor went to live with you.”

  This is his little brother he’s talking about. What an asshole.

  “That’s not what I’m asking. Rafael doesn’t need a fucking thing from you. That time has long passed.”

  “No, he doesn’t need us, because he has you to hold his hand and turn him into a huge pussy. I’m surprised you let him come to see my father without you. That must have been so hard. I bet you were chewing on your nails the whole time.”

  I take a step closer to Tomas, and he steps back, almost stumbling on a chair. There’s nowhere to go without getting past me. We’re the same age, but I’m taller and stronger. He’s not going anywhere unless I let him.

  “Rafael is a man. He doesn’t need me to protect him from a sniveling coward who gets his little-girl feelings hurt at the drop of a hat.”

  After a few seconds, I step back, and he slithers into the center of the room so he can’t be boxed in again. Yeah, that’ll save you from me.

  “We’re all set. Premier is on top, as always.”

  With my grandfather’s blessing, my father took the Huntsman brand for himself. The Premier brand was left for Abel. But in his hands, Premier has never been the premier Port.

  “Not on top,” I say with all the smugness he deserves.

  He opens his mouth as if to respond but then thinks better of it. “My father needs peace and quiet. It’s time for you to leave. And you don’t need to come back.”

  I glare at him from several feet away. “I come and go as I please. Always have. I don’t recall ever needing your permission for anything.”

  He sneers.

  “Any word on your mother?” I bring it up every time I see him, because I know it’s like pouring salt into an open wound.

  He buries his hands in his pockets. “No word.”

  “You still looking for her? Because I’ve got some good people on my team—the best. I’m happy to help. Offer still stands.”

  He shifts from one foot to the other. “My mother got involved in things she should have kept her nose out of. And then she ran off when she got caught.”

  “If you couldn’t convince her to stay in her lane, it was your fucking job to protect her. She was your mother, and you let the bastard murder her. Or maybe you did it. Maybe you were so jealous of the way she fawned all over your baby brother that you killed her.”

  “She took off,” he barks defiantly. “I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that.”

  “It doesn’t matter how often you repeat bullshit. It doesn’t make it true. I don’t believe you.” I take a step closer. “What I do believe is that there’s a special place in hell for men like you. Men who fail to protect the women who are important to them. She gave you life. I don’t know how you live with yourself.”

  “You’re a fine one to talk. How many people have you killed while they begged for their lives?”

  “I look at myself in the mirror every single day. I never shrink. And you know why that is? Because I didn’t murder my mother, or stand around holding my dick while someone else killed her.”

  His eyes are bulging. With any luck, he’ll have nightmares about his mother for a week. My work here is done.

  “You’re a big talker,” he taunts. “But the day’s coming when you won’t be able to live with yourself. The world’s changing, and outside of the region, no one gives two shits about you.”

  With one long stride, I’m in his face. “If you ever lay a finger on my mother, or anyone else I care about, I’ll kill you. But it won’t be quick. I’ll keep you suffering for a long time. You’re good with hurting helpless women? We’ll see how big of a man you are when I dip you in acid, inch by inch, and strangle you with your small intestines when I get bored of your screams.”

  I don’t even glance at my uncle before I walk out.

  38

  Daniela

  When I get back to my room after dinner, there’s a cell phone on the nightstand. I should be thrilled, but as I approach it, my imagination starts to run wild.

  Is this some kind of trick? A test of some sort? Victor didn’t mention he left a phone for me. Neither did Paula. Antonio hasn’t been here since yesterday morning—I haven’t seen him, anyway.

  Nothing happens here without Antonio’s knowing. Certainly no one would give me a phone without his blessing.

  I glance at the phone, but I don’t touch it.
Not right away. Not before forcing myself into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

  When the water is warm, I rub some cleansing gel into my face until it’s squeaky clean, and then I pat on some moisturizer. Yesterday and today were only marginally useful in understanding the comings and goings in that outside area, right below the window.

  When we took a walk this morning, I managed to steer Paula out a side door that leads to the small area. No one was there at the time, and the information I gleaned was only a bit helpful, not like the treasure trove I got from searching the internet on Rafael’s phone while he was using the gym. That was a useful hour.

  It seems that cargo freighters run from the port of Porto all the time. Not a big surprise. Many of those freighters carry passengers for a fee that’s far less than the cost of a plane ticket. If I’m lucky, I’ll find one that doesn’t require me to show a passport. Ships with lax rules are usually more expensive, and many of them involve characters and accommodations that are less savory than those that play by the rules.

  It is what it is. The accommodations here are lovely, but the character with the big cock is pretty unsavory too. At least some of his behavior leans that way.

  The first thing I need to do when I get out of here is to get a burner phone to contact Isabel, and then I need to sell my mother’s locket. It makes me sick to part with it, but there’s no choice. I need money to travel.

  What’s less clear is how to get out of this fortress. Carlos’s or John’s truck seems like the best way out. But nothing is simple.

  Carlos uses a soft cover to protect his truck bed. If I get locked inside, I can cut my way through the tarp to get out. The downside of sneaking into his truck is that he lives only a few miles away. I’ll still need to get to the city to get to the docks. How will I do that?

  If I can manage to get into John’s truck on a Friday, I can get to the city. But his truck bed has a retractable cover, and I don’t know if I can cut my way out if I get locked inside. By law, those kinds of covers can be sold in the EU only if they have safety latches inside, like trunks. But not everyone follows the law. It’s a tough situation.

  I learned more about truck beds and their covers from my internet search than I wanted to. However—

  Oh my God.

  That’s what the phone on the nightstand is about. I deleted the search history, but Antonio knows I used Rafael’s phone. He’s taunting me.

  While I’m brushing my teeth, the phone rings.

  Just ignore it.

  But it’s difficult to ignore. Every shrill ring is a stark reminder of Antonio’s rage—and of the penalty he’ll exact for breaking his rules.

  When I’m at wit’s end, the ringing stops.

  Thank God.

  I breathe a giant sigh of relief. It’s not as though I’m completely off the hook, but maybe for tonight I’ll get a reprieve.

  After I change into a nightgown and crawl between the sheets with a book, the ringing starts again.

  My pulse races as I stare at the phone. I can’t avoid him forever.

  39

  Daniela

  “Hello.” My voice sounds small and hesitant.

  “Good evening,” he says in a low, silky timbre. “I see you found your new phone.”

  I hold my breath, bracing for a stern lecture filled with the promise of punishment. But he doesn’t sound angry—at all. Quite the contrary. “New phone? The phone is for me?”

  “Since the chat with Isabel went off without a hitch, I thought you might like a phone so you can be in touch with her more often.”

  My heart leaps. I won’t be able to take the phone with me when I leave, because I’m sure it can be tracked, but I can talk to them every day while I’m stuck here. Although it means keeping up the ruse with Isabel that everything’s fine. It’s worth it to hear their voices.

  “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate being able to talk to them.”

  “Don’t get too excited. The phone is closely monitored, and there’s no internet access. If you want to video-chat again, you’ll need to ask.”

  Why couldn’t he just say ‘you’re welcome’? Why does every kindness have to come with a small slap?

  “Where are you?” he asks softly.

  Where am I? Really?

  “Out shopping and getting a manicure.” There’s a touch of humor in my voice to offset the sarcasm. “Oh wait, I’m not allowed to leave the property. I’m in my room. But I’m sure you already know that.”

  “Where in your room, Princesa?”

  “I’m in bed,” I reply cautiously.

  “Hmmm,” he murmurs.

  I should have told him I was curled up in a chair, reading. What if he wants phone sex? So what if he does? Daniela!

  “Thank you again for the phone. But it’s late, and I was almost asleep. Can we finish this conversation tomorrow?”

  “You don’t sound like you were almost asleep. You squeaked like a little mouse when you answered, but now you sound wide awake.”

  I don’t bother to argue, because he’s right, and he knows it.

  “I left something else in your room. Maybe that’s why you’re in such a big hurry to get rid of me. Did you find it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I scan the room, but there’s nothing that appears new. “No. I don’t see anything.”

  “Go to your dressing room, and on the top shelf, above the lingerie drawers, there’s a leather case. Bring it back to the bed. But before you do, take the key that’s on a red ribbon from your panty drawer.”

  “You were in my closet? In my drawers? When?”

  “I was. And does it matter when?”

  I don’t respond, because all I can think about is him rifling through my things. They’re not really your things. You’re just borrowing them while you’re here.

  “Do as I ask, and stop worrying that I touched your underwear.”

  It’s unsettling to know he was in the room where I sleep, without me knowing, although I don’t pretend to have much privacy here.

  “Daniela?”

  “I’m going,” I mutter, climbing out of bed. A case and a key. What are you up to, Antonio?

  On a high shelf, above the lingerie drawers, there’s a blush-color leather case about the size of a hatbox. It wasn’t there this morning.

  I stand on a small step stool and pull down the case. It’s not particularly heavy. Whatever’s inside doesn’t weigh a ton.

  When I’m leaving the room, the gold lock catches my eye, and I remember that I’m supposed to retrieve a key too. Under different circumstances, this might be fun, but I don’t trust him. Although I have to admit, I’m curious to see what’s inside.

  I open the top drawer and find a key with a red ribbon looped through it, exactly where he said it would be.

  “I have it,” I tell him when I get back to the bedroom.

  “Took you long enough. Did you remember the key?”

  “Yes,” I reply, holding it up as though he can see through the phone. “It’s right—”

  I freeze when my eye catches the cherry-red ribbon. This is my hair ribbon. The one I was wearing the day he visited Quinta Rosa do Vale, after my father died. The one I could never find. Isn’t it?

  That’s ridiculous, Daniela.

  He’s saying something, but I’m too busy examining the ribbon for any sign that it’s mine to pay attention to him. I’m not certain about the ribbon.

  You know it’s yours.

  “Is—is this the ribbon I had in my hair when you visited after my father died?”

  “It is. I’m in a benevolent mood today. I’m giving back some of the things I stole from you.”

  I don’t say anything. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the idea that he took my ribbon like a schoolboy and kept it for six years.

  “Don’t overthink it, Princesa. Open the case.”

  My head is fuzzy as I pull the round case closer and insert the key. Even as I do, I c
an’t keep my eyes off the ribbon.

  Because I have no idea what to expect when I open the case, I pull back the lid carefully.

  What in the name of fresh hell?

  The inside of the case is multitiered, like a jewelry box, but much larger. I rifle through the contents, finding a variety of sex toys in silk pouches, two sizes of batteries, condoms, an assortment of lube, and antibacterial soap.

  You have got to be kidding me.

  I don’t say anything. Neither does Antonio.

  All I can do is stare at the box in horror, and at my ribbon, becoming more and more agitated as the seconds pass.

  “See anything you think you might enjoy?”

  Fuck you.

  “Why did you leave this for me? What exactly do you think I’m going to do with these things?”

  “Daniela, you’re young and inexperienced, but you haven’t been living in a cave in the Arctic. You know damn well what those toys are about. But if you have any questions about how to use or care for them, the instructions are at the bottom of the case.”

  “I know what they are. But if you think for one minute—”

  “You said that you haven’t explored your body in years. You accused me of stealing your opportunity to have those experiences. I’m giving it back,” he adds softly.

  I swallow hard. I did say that he’d robbed me of the experiences. It is true—mostly. There’s little opportunity for self-love when sharing a room with a child.

  “The items in the box are for you to enjoy. I chose them myself, but you can choose other things that suit you better, or that you might want to experiment with.”

  I’m about to die of embarrassment.

  “I intend to learn your body—and your mind—every corner of both. I intend to explore every whimper, every sigh, every moan. You might never know yourself as well as I’ll soon know you, but you need to explore, to learn what gives you pleasure. Every woman needs to know her own body intimately.”

  So good of him to tell me what every woman needs. “Do you intend to watch?”