by Sam Mariano
[FRIDAY]
“I think we have a problem with Enzo.”
My younger brother Dante stands in front of my desk with his arms crossed, scowling at Adrian. “There’s no problem with my guy.”
“Yeah, there fucking is,” Adrian states. He’s irritable as hell this week and doesn’t seem to have the patience for Dante’s shit right now. “I’ve double checked and his shit doesn’t check out. He’s skimming or someone on his crew is and he’s not noticing. Either way, it needs to be dealt with.”
“I’m saying you’re wrong,” Dante states.
“I’m saying I’m not,” Adrian shoots back, meeting Dante’s gaze.
Dante’s eyes narrow on Adrian’s, then he looks at me, since of course I get final call.
“Do one more check,” I advise Adrian. “If you turn up the same results, take care of it.”
“Does this check include talking to one of my best guys before you kill him?” Dante asks, his eyes glinting with aggravation, but his tone level enough.
“I’d say if he doesn’t notice skimming, he’s not one of your best guys,” I offer.
“Let me deal with it.”
“If you wanted to deal with it, you should’ve done so before it came to Adrian’s attention,” I inform him, declining his request.
“Enzo’s been around longer than you have,” Dante states.
“Then he should know better, shouldn’t he?”
Since he can’t very well argue with that but he still doesn’t like me messing with his crew, Dante’s jaw locks and he nods once. “So it’s like that.”
“Yes.”
He’s angry. I understand. Dante’s more in love with the business side of things than I am—forms closer relationships with the men, has a greater stake in the operations. To be perfectly honest, I don’t need the crime; I just like the power and have a legacy to uphold. I make enough of my own money without it, but I do very much enjoy not having to play by the rules of polite society. I have no trouble making the hard calls, but I prefer to deal less with the day-to-day hand-dirtying.
I am an excellent delegator.
Dante’s too close to the situation.
“Anything else?” I question, lifting my coffee cup and taking a sip as I watch the two men over the brim.
“Nope,” Dante clips.
I indicate the door. “Then you know what to do.”
It’s an obnoxious dismissal and I smile faintly as he gets even more annoyed and storms out of my study without another word.
Adrian shakes his head and sighs, dropping into the chair in front of my desk. Since I’ve started fucking with Mia, Adrian hasn’t been especially happy with me; I’m surprised he stayed to visit.
“Did you have something else?”
“Not business. Well, not really,” he amends. “I’m worried about Vince.”
“Why is that?”
His eyes flash to mine and he shoots me a look of thinly veiled hatred. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re raping his girlfriend. That he hasn’t lost his mind and shot you in the fucking face is frankly more restraint than I expected from the kid.”
I can’t stifle a small smile as I consider that scenario. “You’d really hate that, wouldn’t you? Having to stop him?”
“You’re the one who needs to be stopped,” Adrian mutters.
I’m not sure if it’s a brave or stupid thing to say to me, but I don’t worry. Adrian doesn’t have to like me; I have all the leverage over him I need.
“Elise was in my bedroom.” His gaze turns murderous on instinct, then he realizes what I’m referring to. I smirk. It’s fun to mess with him. “Why?” I add.
Ordinarily only Maria steps foot in my bedroom. It’s not that I don’t trust Elise, but given her level of infatuation with me, it just seems wisest to keep her out.
Given how fiercely protective he gets now, you’d think he has a vested interest. I would expect no less for Elise, regardless of her actions, but Mia is the one he tries to make excuses for now. “Mia asked for her. She doesn’t know the way things are around here, she didn’t know Elise doesn’t go to your room. It was perfectly innocent. All she knew was she needed a maid and Elise is a maid.”
He’s worried I’m mad at Mia for telling on me. I’m not. She frankly did me a favor; pushing Elise on Adrian was an item on my to-do list. I hadn’t anticipated this move with Mia would accomplish that end as well, but then Mia tattled on me. Now I have one less thing to do. Teamwork.
“You like her,” I remark.
It’s not a question, but he withdraws even further into himself. “What?”
It shouldn’t surprise me. He’s always had a sweet spot for kindly blondes. His mom was one, so I shouldn’t be surprised.
“You like Mia,” I reiterate.
He’s tense just hearing me say her name. “I think you’re treating her like shit and there were more humane ways to do this,” he states. “But you already know how I feel about the situation.”
I smile slowly. “But you like her.”
He snaps at me now. He’s letting me get to him. “I stand guard outside your bedroom door in case she tries to escape her rapist; if that’s how I treat people I like, God help anyone I don’t.”
I should let him get back to that now, actually. After I took her this morning, Mia curled up and went back to sleep. I figured I could take advantage and bring him in for some actual business. I really shouldn’t have him away from more important matters like this, but I don’t trust anyone else to keep an eye on Mia. Not sure why, but my instincts are usually sharp, so I just trust them on this. She hasn’t even tried to leave yet, so I’m not as worried about it as I was initially, but I still feel more comfortable with him posted outside my bedroom door.
“If this morning is any indication, she’s in a dark mood today. Make sure you check in on her,” I tell him. “Make sure she’s all right.”
“I think she’d be more all right if you’d stop hurting her,” he states.
“I have stopped hurting her.”
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You have?”
Realizing he probably means something different, I amend, “I mean, I could do a lot worse.”
Adrian somehow manages to look disappointed in me as he pushes up out of the chair. “Shit like this is why I hate working for you.”
“Oh, come on; this isn’t the worst thing I’ve made you do.”
“I think it might be,” he disagrees, shaking his head. Meeting my gaze, he states, “That girl has been nothing but nice to everyone in this house—including you. She didn’t say a word about what she saw to anyone. There’s no reason to think she ever would have if you hadn’t sabotaged her like this.”
“Don’t be so trusting, Adrian,” I advise. “Vince would’ve worn on her. With his temper and jealousy, he would’ve turned abusive eventually; she would’ve wanted out, and she would’ve talked if necessary to escape him. I know you think I’m just being an asshole, but I’m saving everyone a lot of time and trouble in the long run.”
Adrian shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck as he heads for the door. “No, you’re strapping your own baggage to that poor girl’s back and forcing her to play the role you expect of her. Doesn’t mean she ever would have on her own.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” I offer mildly.
He doesn’t bother responding.
---
Ordinarily, Maria would bring a used food tray the back way into the kitchen, but today she hauls it right through my dining room so she can shoot me a narrowed, disapproving look as she passes. Everyone in this house is obsessed with attempting to guilt me over the Mia situation. I’m not sure if I should be more impressed, amused, or alarmed at the loyalty she has somehow inspired within my household.
We have vastly different methods of commanding loyalty, I’ll say that.
I can’t help noticing, as Maria walks past, the tray is still full. “Did she not eat her lunch?”
“Well, that’s no good,” I murmur, grabbing the napkin from my lap and tossing it on the table as I push my chair back.
Faint surprise flashes across Maria’s features as she takes a step back to make room for me. I take the tray from her and head upstairs myself.
I’m in the master hall, heading toward my bedroom with Adrian’s confused stare bouncing from me to the serving tray I’m carrying before I realize how ridiculous this must look. I don’t serve people.
Still, the damned girl has to eat.
Adrian turns the knob and pushes the door open wordlessly. I head inside and kick it shut behind me.
Mia is still in bed. She’s not asleep; she’s just lying there with my comforter pulled up around her neck. Her gaze drifts to me when I come in, but she makes no attempt to move.
“Why aren’t you eating?” I demand.
“Why do you care?” she returns, faintly glaring at me. “You’re just going to kill me anyway. Maybe I wanna look really good at my funeral.”
My lips curve up with mild amusement and I carry the tray over to the bed. “You won’t get a funeral. There, problem solved. Eat your lunch.”
She watches me put the tray down beside her and take a seat on the edge of the bed, but she doesn’t move to touch it. “I already told Maria I’m not hungry.”
“I’m not Maria.” I raise my eyebrows, cocking my head toward the tray. “Eat, or I force it down your throat.”
Fuck, shouldn’t have said it that way. Now I’m thinking about forcing other things down her throat and my cock is reminding me it’s been hours since I last fucked her. So many hours.
Despite her withering glare, Mia sits up in the bed. She keeps the bedspread pulled carefully around her torso and reluctantly reaches for the tray. “Fine.”
“I want the whole tray cleared,” I inform her.
Irritation gleams in her soft blue eyes, but she doesn’t argue; instead, she takes a bite.
I just sit there, watching her. I don’t really think about it or consider that it’s weird until she finally says something.
“Are you really going to sit there and watch me eat?”
I shrug like that’s a reasonable thing to do. “If I left, you could toss the food in the garbage. Maria said you haven’t been eating. I want to make sure there’s something in your stomach.”
More dread than the comment deserves settles on her, but she doesn’t say anything, just continues eating.
“After lunch, you can take a nice, warm shower,” I tell her. “I had Maria bring in your shampoo and conditioner.”
“Nope.” She pauses to take a sip of her orange juice. “I figure if I’m not clean, maybe you won’t want to rape me.”
“Did that strategy work with not eating?” I ask, simply. “Maybe you want me to watch you shower, too?”
At that, she pales. All the rebelliousness goes out of her though, and I’d bet my house she’s freshly showered and smelling strongly of coconut when I return to this room tonight.
Mia watches me suspiciously. “Why are you smiling?”
Well, damn, didn’t realize I was. I don’t have a reason to give her, so I don’t answer at all.
Probably because I’m sitting here watching her eat like a creepy bastard, she continues to eye me uncertainly as she eats her lunch.
“From now on when Maria brings you breakfast in the morning, you eat it. If you’re not hungry for lunch, fine, but you need to eat something to keep your energy up. I’m not always home to check lunch and I eat dinner at the table like a civilized human being, but I will always be home to check your breakfast tray. If Maria brings it back full again, I will punish you.”
Her pretty face flushes, but she doesn’t argue. I can practically hear her thoughts, wondering what that entails, but she’s not bold (or possibly brave) enough to ask.
“You can come back to nightly dinners now if you want to,” I add. “Just let Adrian know and I’ll have a dress brought in for you. He’ll escort you downstairs to avoid any unpleasant run-ins.”
Avoiding my gaze, she swallows her food and takes a drink of water. “Will Vince be at dinner?”
“Generally, yes.”
Nodding slightly, she murmurs, “I’ll pass.”
“You don’t belong to him anymore,” I state. “You needn’t be uncomfortable.”
“It’s extremely uncomfortable,” she returns. “This is incredibly uncomfortable. He—I can’t. I can’t.”
“All right,” I say, easily enough. “It was just a suggestion.”
She’s quiet for a moment, thinking, then she looks up at me like she can’t help herself. “So, he still shows up to dinner and has to sit at the table with you?”
My lips curve up faintly and I nod. “With your empty seat between us. It’s not awkward at all.”
“It’s not funny,” she says, mildly. “It’s horrible. He didn’t deserve this.”
“He didn’t deserve this?” I ask, lifting my eyebrows. “He’s the one who gave you up. He lost his shit because my dick was inside you—and you didn’t even want it there. Vince is a prideful idiot with a lot of growing up to do.”
Mia scowls, her protective instincts flaring up. “He’s not an idiot,” she says, fiercely. “Vince was wonderful before you got in the way and ruined everything. I was his, and you…”
I roll my eyes at her theatrics. I know she’s young and wrong, but Vince is a dumbass and I would feel better if she’d just accept and admit the fact already. “It doesn’t matter,” I tell her, to make things simple. “You’re not his anymore.”
“And he didn’t give me up, you stole me,” she states, still stuck on defending Vince.
“Well, he didn’t fight very hard for you, now, did he?”
Her face flushes an even deeper shade and she shoves the tray away from her. It’s not completely cleared, but she ate most of it. “I’m full,” she states.
Since it seems I perturbed her, I expand on that. “I wasn’t insulting you, I was insulting him. You were worth more of a fight than he put up.”
Frowning slightly, she says, “Thank you, I guess?”
That was too nice, so I add, “Especially considering the stakes. He wasn’t exactly giving you up to a happy ending.” I shrug when the anxiety comes back to her face. “Anyway, how is your day going?”
“Well, it was fantastic until you just reminded me you want to murder me. Now it’s kind of a downer.”
She surprises a smile out of me. I love the little pops of spirit she shows me—she’s completely conquered, I effectively own her, but even here in the thick of it she’s not broken yet. Of course, I’ve kept the kid gloves on. Hadn’t planned to. I fully intended to unleash unrestrained cruelty upon her, but I’m enjoying playing with her. I don’t need to completely break her, just bend her until she’s close.
Fidgeting with her hands uncertainly, she avoids my gaze and asks a little awkwardly, “How is yours?”
Better now. I don’t say that. It’s bad enough the thought passed through my mind, but I feel better for having seen her. I’m unsure why. She hasn’t actually done anything, I just enjoy her presence. Since the moment I got her in this bedroom, I’ve been lingering longer in the mornings and coming to bed earlier at night just so I get more time with her.
“Fine,” I say casually, reaching for the comforter and drawing it away from her. “Business as usual, mostly.” I cock my head to the side, amused, as she hangs onto the fabric with a death grip, trying to keep herself covered. I’m not sure why. I’ve already seen every inch of her—it’s pointless to try for modesty now.
Of course I easily get the comforter away from her, but then she just covers herself up with her hands. Her blue eyes are narrowed at me and she does not ask any follow-up questions about my day.
I take my time looking her over, noting the flush of her skin as she
angrily avoids my gaze.
I love her body. I haven’t been intimately acquainted with it for very long, but already I adore everything about it. I love the tint and tone of her skin, I love the size and aesthetic of her breasts—I even love the jut of her collar bone. The wisps of blonde hair scattered around her dainty shoulders. Her long, elegant fingers. Her fingernail polish is cracked and peeling off, I notice now. I know she doesn’t like that. She’s mentioned it in Vince’s room a time or two when he complained about the strong smell of the stuff.
I make a note to have Maria bring Mia her nail polish. I bet it bothers her to have it looking unkempt but she’s certainly not going to ask me for something so trivial. She wouldn’t even ask me for her shampoo. She could ask me for things, but I guess she doesn’t see the point since I keep telling her I’m going to kill her as soon as I get bored with her.
Well, unless she’s pregnant. That would buy her a bit more time.
I should just have all her cosmetics brought to our room. Beth’s old vanity is empty; Mia could fill it with her things and I can buy whatever else she needs. Everything she owned combined was worth less than a crisp twenty before she met me, but I can fill in all those gaps now. She’s a beautiful woman who likes pretty things, so I’ll get her all the pretty things.
Frowning at the sudden turn of my thoughts, I remind myself that this girl isn’t a permanent fixture; she’s a ship passing in the night. A lovely ship, but a passing ship.
“You know what would make my day better?” I ask.
She’s guarded, already anticipating she won’t like this. She keeps her arms crossed and her expression stormy but she doesn’t answer me.
“Your mouth around my cock,” I say, like she did.
“You know what would make my day better?” she shoots back.
Smirking, I answer, “Your mouth around my cock?”
Cutting me a distinct look of disapproval, she says, “Definitely not.”
I shrug. “Let’s try it and see.” Crooking my finger, I indicate for her to come closer.