“I'm sure she left out the part about seducing him, hoping to get a payday out of the mayor, money to go away quietly once she got herself pregnant. My son was a piece of shit that couldn't touch my money and she soon realized that, so she moved on to me. Two chances to latch yourself onto money is better than one, right?”
His smile is disgusting, and I want to rearrange his face.
“She said you forced her to work at that club to pay you back for everything and she's done that, so why are you here?” I snap.
“Ah, so she has spoken of me. Glad to know she hasn't forgotten who picked her off the ground and gave her a new life. I didn't know about her and my son until after I already took her in. The timing was too close, so we took a paternity test and I punished her for her games. Working at that club was that punishment, she wanted to sleep with men to advance herself, she got it. I didn't need her money, I was angry. She wanted to con the most powerful man in Miami, she deserved what she got.“
I shake my head, none of this making sense. He's lying. He has to be lying. When she confided in me that night the hurt in her eyes was so real, she never even told me about Marco. My brain turns back on and the night she spilled everything. She started crying and saying Marco and… I stopped her. It was too much. She was too hurt to keep going but what was she going to say? That she really did sleep with Marco?
“I had no idea my son slept with her or I would have never touched her. She's good, really good, but you know that,” he smirks.
“She wouldn't do that!” I roar.
“Ask her yourself if you don't believe me. Although, I don't know how I could recall a small birthmark above her ass, if I haven't seen it in the flesh myself.”
I close my eyes, clenching my fist as he laughs.
“It's a hard pill to swallow, getting played by the succubus in the flesh. Her mother taught her well. I'm sure she gave us all the same sob story. Overdosed before graduation, right? My son introducing her into the life of drugs? It's all a lie. The club was supposed to be a punishment, but she liked working at that club because she's a slut. She saw an opportunity to make money by feeding her addiction.”
“She… she doesn't use anymore. I would know if she did!”
“Fucking. She's a sex addict, don't pretend that you couldn't figure that one out. That's what addicts do. They jump from one outlet to the next. Rehab didn't fix her, that club did. She traded one addiction for another. My advice? Get yourself tested.”
“Get out of my studio,” I say my voice low and menacing.
“Don't feel bad, son. She's brought men way more powerful than you to their knees. A mere commoner didn't stand a chance.”
He throws a manila envelope on the floor and walks towards the front door before turning back around.
“Ask her who picked her up from work yesterday and brought her home.”
I close my eyes remembering her phone call, knowing she went into the office yesterday. She claimed she took an Uber home, so I didn't have to wake up Peter from his nap.
“You?”
“Yes. I haven't been the only one paying her a visit though. My son is sober now and wants to work out a deal for custody. Who knows, they might work through her addiction together and be a family again. I doubt you stand a chance. He'll be by my side now in the office, making a hefty salary. She'll follow the trail of breadcrumbs he leaves. I can guarantee it. Look inside that. Enjoy your night.”
He turns, walking out of the studio and I pivot, slamming a fist into the heavy bag next to me.
“Fuck!”
Remembering Alessandra saying how she was ‘addicted to my touch, addicted to me’ replays in my mind. They were just words, she didn't mean that literally, she couldn't have, but she was scared about it. It could very well be an addiction.
Xavier Roberts pops into my head, then Lance. I thought I knew her, but she was a stranger. Was I blinded by her beauty? Her soft side with Peter?
I remember the cash I found in her purse and shake my head. That could have been anything, but really in my heart I knew it could also be exactly what Marco was saying.
I open the envelope and want to punch a hole in the fucking wall. There are a series of pictures of Alessandra getting into the back of a black car, with Marco at her side, his hand on her lower back guiding her.
Next, there are pictures of her at the bakery across town, sitting out at a table with a man a little older than her. I've never seen him before but the smile on her face is genuine and their hands are connected at the top of the table.
The last series is of a younger man that looks a lot like Marco, who I can guess is Frankie. Her back is against the brick wall of the Double Play building and Frankie is in front of her, bracing himself against the wall with his hand above her shoulder. Her hand is up against his chest and she has a sad smile on her face.
I put all the pictures back in the envelope and toss them on the floor, walking to the front door, locking it and then climb the steps two at a time to the fraud in my bed. She has another thing coming if she thinks she's playing me.
Alessandra
I lay back in Miguel's bed, exhaling, turning my phone around on my bare belly. What is taking him so long?
“Undress,” says a hard voice from the doorway.
I look up and see Miguel, his eyes are dark, his chest heaving.
“Hi,” I say curiously.
His nostrils are flaring, and he doesn't smile back at me.
“I said undress.”
I get to the edge of the bed and unclasp my bra in the front letting it fall to the floor. I shimmy out of my thong and stand before him, naked.
I reach for the hem of his t-shirt, but his hand grips my wrist to stop me.
“Get on the bed,” he commands.
“Miguel, are you okay?” I ask my brows furrowing.
“I'd be better if you listened to me, instead of questioned me.”
“I…” I'm speechless at his demanding tone and I'm not too sure how I feel about it. I like when he takes charge but we're always on that level together. This feels so different than that.
“The bed, Aless,” he says cupping my cheek. “I don't wanna tell you again.”
His tone is softer, so I relent, walking backwards until my thighs hit the mattress.
Miguel walks forward, taking his shirt off and dropping it to the floor, dropping his shorts and briefs and stands in front of me naked.
“Open your mouth. I want your lips around my cock,” he whispers.
He takes my hair in his hand, moving it to the side as I nod and open my mouth, feeling him slowly slide inside. The bliss I feel, the calm as he slowly thrusts in and out of my mouth. The power he always gives me, allowing him to have his pleasure. I love this feeling.
I cup his balls as I wrap my tongue around his head and suck his tip harder then pop off.
“Mmm, so good Aless, so fuckin’ good. You love my cock in your mouth?”
I nod, leaning forward as squeeze his balls in my hand and I run my tongue along his shaft, feeling the vein pulsing against it.
“Yessss, like that baby. Perfect for me, only me.”
He talks through gritted teeth and then pulls on my hair as his shaft pops out of my mouth.
“Get on your knees. I'm gonna take this pussy now. My pussy.”
His tone is possessive, and it puts me on high alert. This is not the Miguel I know. This man is different, cold. I see the dark green of his eyes change and the tenderness that's always there is gone.
“Miguel…”
“Please, Aless. Just give me this right now, I need it.”
His voice is even again, making me wonder if I just imagined the harshness in his tone seconds ago. The stare I get is now softer, what I'm used to, and I shake my head, my mind playing games with me. What the hell is happening?
“Okay,” I say softly, turning around.
I brace my hands and knees on the bed, feeling him rub himself through my wet lips. The sound it
makes, his cock through my juices causes my nipples to harden.
“Yesss,” I hiss.
He teases my clit with the head of his cock, and pushes against it then relents, again and again until I'm gripping the sheet so tight my fingers burn.
“Miguel, please,” I whine.
“So wet for me, such a good girl.”
We've never done it in this position, so when he pushes inside me in one thrust and I grip the sheet harder to keep myself up and let out a loud gasp. He's so deep like this, pushing against spots inside me I didn't even know existed.
“So good,” I moan. “So, so good.”
His fingers dig into my hips, marking me for the first time. His control has snapped, and I feel my legs start to tense at how deep he is, pulling out and pushing in against that spot. He slams into me again, over and over as he grunts and then curses behind me.
“Fuck this,” he yells.
I look behind me and within seconds, I'm flat on my back, my breath coming in and out so fast I feel light-headed.
“Miguel, what-”
“I can't see that fuckin’ beauty mark anymore! I tried to fuck it out, but I can't, I fuckin’ can’t Alessandra!”
I try to lean up on my elbows, but his big hand comes down on my chest to keep me flat on the bed.
“Miguel, what the hell are you-”
He cuts me off with a kiss, squeezing my breast hard as he thrusts into me, his lower stomach rubbing on my clit, pushing me to the edge. My questions are gone as the familiar warmth spreads up my legs to my center.
“Like that, I'm so close I-”
He steals my moan from my mouth with his lips again and I feel him explode inside me triggering my own orgasm as we both pant and come back from bliss. He shakes his head and stands quickly, getting himself dressed as I watch, confused.
“What are you doing?”
“I need some air,” he says as he walks towards the door.
I get up from the bed and rush towards him.
“Wait, Miguel. What the hell just happened?” I ask softly putting my hand on his back.
He flinches and I take it off, stepping back.
“Don't wait up,” he says as he walks out of the door and the apartment door slams shut.
I open my mouth and close it, confused at his reaction, his distance. I get into bed, pulling the sheets over my body as I reach for my phone.
Alessandra: Please come back and talk to me. Did I do something?
A few minutes pass by which turns into an hour and my eyes are heavy, nothing on my screen. I drift off and wake a few hours later, still nothing.
Alessandra: I love you. Please come home.
-----
It's 2:30 in the morning when I hear Miguel stumble through the apartment door. I sit up in his bed, pulling the sheet over my body as the door slams open and he walks inside.
“Miguel, what the hell happened? Are you drunk?” I ask getting to my feet, the sheet around my body as I guide him to the bed.
The smell of whiskey is strong on his breath and I fight my brain, focusing on helping Miguel through whatever he's going through.
He pushes off the bed, dropping my hands to the mattress as he stands and stares at me, his eyes empty.
“Did Peter's grandfather take you home from work the other day? Did Peter's father meet you at work? Who did you have lunch with at the bakery?” He booms.
His breathing is rapid, and I furrow my brows. Where the hell is this coming from?
“What? You're spying on me?”
“Answer the goddamn questions, Alessandra. I bring you into my home, protect you and this is how you treat me?”
“You don't have any idea what you're talking about! They ambushed me. I had no idea they were coming to the office.”
“Ha! And the man at the bakery? All the cash in your bag? Are you a sex addict? Usin’ me at your convenience here but then findin’ other people to screw durin’ the day when I'm watchin’ your fuckin’ son?”
I flinch at his tone and will the tears to stay where they are and not drip down my cheeks like they're begging to. Anger takes over instead. I know he's drunk, this isn't him, but I can't help the hurt that emerges, the betrayal of his words.
“Don't you dare,” I whisper pointing at him. “Don't use my past addiction to make assumptions about me because I told you I hated every second I worked at the club! You're making a fool of yourself, Miguel. Stop thinking you know everything because you know nothing!” I yell back my anger rising.
He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and when he opens them, his expression is blank. He wobbles a little and instinctively I move to steady him. With my arm on his biceps, I feel myself relax until his next words punch me right in my gut.
“Did you fuck Marco?”
My mouth opens and then shuts, feeling the shame stain my cheeks. I take my hand off his arm, and take a step back, staring at him.
“Who told you that?”
“Answer the question, Alessandra,” Miguel snaps.
I ball my fists and grit my teeth knowing this, all of this was probably Marco or Frankie and I want to scream.
“Yes, but-”
“We're done here. Get dressed and get the hell out of my room.”
He stumbles as he points at me and I have to remember he's not himself. He’s drunk, this isn't him, but it hurts, it hurts so fucking much.
“Miguel!” I gasp. “Let me explain, I-”
“We didn't use a condom, dammit!” he yells slamming his hand against the wall.
I flinch again and he turns to look at me, his gaze softening but then anger coming to the surface.
“Should I go get tested? Are you gonna trap me into a pregnancy now too?” he snaps.
I reel back like he slapped me, he might as well have, it would have hurt less.
“You can go to hell, Miguel. You got fed a bunch of lies and drunk or not get your head out of your ass. I'm not on the pill so who knows, but that's the first time I've ever had sex without a condom, and I get tested regularly, so you should be fine,” I snap right back.
“I bet you do,” he says laughing cynically.
“You're a fucking bastard,” I whisper. “Is that what this was? One last fuck with the whore you've been pretending isn't? You knew about Marco before you came up here and fucked me, didn’t you?”
He flinches at all my profanity but then he nods, his expression stone again. He leans back on the wall, sliding down to his ass as he cradles his head in his hands.
I shake my head, a tear escaping past my closed eyelids and I hold in the crying with everything I have.
I walk around the room grabbing my clothes and getting dressed in silence as I feel Miguel's stare. I look towards him on the floor and he's watching me, his expression confused and angry, hurt. I'm the one that should be hurt, not him.
“Is Marco Peter's father?” he whispers.
I pull my shirt over my head, righting my hair and laugh.
“No, he's not Peter's father, Frankie is. I slept with Marco after Peter was born and I can tell you right now that I've willingly only slept with one man my entire life, two including you, even though you probably won't believe me. Marco Falcone was not one of them. How about you sleep this off and think on that one.”
A tear stubbornly drips out of my eye and lands on my t-shirt. He says nothing, his face void of any emotion and he doesn't even have the balls to look at me.
“I was so wrong about you. You're no different than the rest,” I whisper, turning and walking down the hall to my room.
I shut the door behind me and sink down to the floor. I still don't let the tears fall, holding onto the anger a little bit more. Anger at Miguel for not coming to talk to me about all that instead of going to get drunk. Anger at him believing Marco's lies instead of me, who he's trusted and loved.
A small knock on my door interrupts my thoughts and I immediately think it's Peter, but my hand stops on the doorknob when I hear his deep voice
.
“I'm sorry, Alessandra. I'm so, so sorry,” he slurs.
A loud thump on the door makes me jump, the vibration against my back.
“He came and showed me pictures, told me all these things and I… I don't want them to be true. I don't want any of them to be true. I love you my light, please tell me they're not true.”
The tears are forming now because half of what Marco told him is probably lies, but the other half is probably true. He won't want me anymore, I could see the disgust in his eyes, even through the haze of the alcohol and it breaks my heart.
Last Round (Double Play Series Book 6) Page 19