Truth: A Sinful Series, Book One

by Trilina Pucci

  “Mr. King, I swear, I didn’t take anything. I would never steal from you.” Lies.

  “So, you do know. It’s important we are on the same page.” I pour my two fingers of scotch and gulp it down, exhaling harshly at the scorch.

  His pleas come out swallowed by the crying that’s begun. Men like this make me sick. He would steal from me and then cry when he gets caught.

  “How much? Give me what I want, and it will play to your favor.” I already know the answer, but I want to hear him say it. I want him to look me in the fucking eye and admit he took from me.

  “No, I swear, Mr. King…I never did anything…” I laugh at the pathetic display, amazed that he won’t take the gift I’m giving him. Looking to my security, I give a nod for them to let him go. The weasel adjusts his shirt and begins walking toward me. He thinks I believe him. He’s misjudging my motives, and my hand twitches as he comes closer. Today may be his unluckiest day.

  “Do you think I’m a stupid man?” I ask, walking toward him as my control begins to unravel. “Do you think I would ask a question I didn’t already know the answer to?”

  I’m met with fear, true fear, as I grab the back of his hair, pull his head back, and throw him to the ground. Putting one hand on the ground, his other reaches up to me to beg me to spare him.

  “Tell me how much!” My voice booms through the room, every muscle in my body aching from the tension.

  “A hundred K.”

  “Who else?” I growl out, gritting my teeth together.

  “Nobody, King…just me…”

  Lies again.

  His screams silence the rest of his sentence as my foot connects with the hand on the floor, over and over, again and again until I’m sure it’s broken. The devil inside has taken over, and I know exactly what I’m capable of. From the look on his face so does he.

  “Give me a fucking name!”

  “Victor and Scott…oh god, please, I’m sorry. It was the three of us. We didn’t think you’d notice—you have so much—but they got greedy. I’m sorry, please…please.” His cries fall on deaf ears. Three men took from me. Three men that I fed, housed, and gave employment to.

  “A man doesn’t ever take what isn’t his to take. I paid you well, treated you well, and this is how you repay my generosity? You’re lucky to be leaving with your life.” Squatting down, I grab the top of his hair to make sure he looks at me. “Tell your friends that I never forget, so they will need to look over their shoulder for the rest of their lives. Now get out of my club. You may want to see someone about that hand.” I let him go, and he falls forward onto his shoulder as he struggles to get up.

  As I walk away, I look down at my hands, the hands that are capable of taking a life. I swore I wouldn’t turn into that monster again. A broken hand is my gift to him.

  “Yes, okay…thank you, King, thank you…we will return all the money. I swear,” he cries as he stands, holding his limp hand.

  Turning around, I begin to unroll my shirtsleeves. “Keep it. You’ll need to disappear because if I see you again, your payment will be with your life.” I don’t need confirmation that he understands or believes me. Without looking up, I turn back toward the direction of my office. “Fellas, take him to his mother’s house. This way he knows we know where she lives. Find the others and treat them to the same hospitality I’ve shown our friend.”

  All I hear are his pleading words as he is dragged back out of my Church.

  “Hey, the guys called in. It’s all done.”

  “Good.” Leaning back in my chair, I put my hands behind my head and look to Sarah.

  “I need to know where they end up.” Never turn a blind eye. The best advice I was ever given by my father and his brother.

  “I thought you never wanted to see them again. Like a banishment of sorts.”

  “Do what I’m asking, or I’ll find someone who will.” My words are harsh and bear command.

  “Whoa, sorry. Of course, King.” Pausing at the door, she turns back, her face filled with hesitation. “Are you okay? I know it isn’t my place, but you just seem off…” Her sincerity quells the need to bark another order. This girl has been loyal, and despite myself, she feels more like family than most others.

  “I’m fine, Sarah. Thank you for asking. You really are a pain, you know that?”

  She matches my grin and shrugs before leaving me to more of my unwanted thoughts. I stand from my desk and take another sip of my scotch. Tonight, I will fuck and pray that gives me the relief I need.

  ANOTHER SLEEPLESS NIGHT IS MAKING me spiral. It’s three in the morning, and I still can’t sleep. My run-in with Luca is on loop in my mind. I’m a mess. He’s here. He’s in my city, and I know exactly where to find him, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid he won’t want me anymore because he’s all I want. Dammit, I can’t do anything about the past. My breakup with Nick was too fresh, my head was a mess, but I never didn’t want to be with King. If he really cared the way he said, he’d understand. I can’t sit around wishing, hoping, and praying that we will magically find each other. I need to make shit happen. I left, so I need to be the one to make the first move.

  I run into my closet and throw on some sweats over my negligee and grab my sneakers. I don’t even take the time to put them on as I grab my keys and cardigan, heading for the door. I can’t overthink this; I just need to get to him. Everything will fall into place if I just get to him. I believe that wholeheartedly. I’d hoped before, but now I know he’s waiting to be found. He’s giving me my time without me asking.

  Walking downstairs, I wait for my Uber from inside my building, taking the moment to put my sneakers on. I catch a glimpse of myself and laugh at how ridiculous I look. Hair in a messy bun, old-man cardi, a negligee, and sweats. Jesus, I’m really trying for the hard sell. At 3:00 a.m., what do I think will happen? I’ll show up and say sorry and we’ll live happily ever after? Looking down at my phone, I cancel the Uber and trudge back up to my apartment. I need a better, less crazy plan.

  Toeing off my shoes and grabbing a blanket, I curl up on my couch to try out some television, in the hopes it may lull me to sleep so that I can have the ability of rational thought tomorrow.

  All fucking night, the women go just as soon as I meet them. I can’t look at anyone. I’m trying, but everyone falls short. I wouldn’t touch one of the women offering me an escape tonight if someone paid me. I’m not sure my dick would even cooperate, so I sit at the bar pounding scotch and saying her name like a curse. That’s what she is…a fucking curse.

  I was a fool. I thought I’d ruin her for every man after me. I just didn’t plan on feeling anything, let alone this—whatever “this” is. All I know is I can’t shake her, and I just wish we could go back to the beginning and start again. Start from before that asshole she was with and before I forgot how to be this kind of man, the kind that loves and cherishes.

  I hate her.

  “Another,” I grunt out to the bartender, watching him pour my glass with the amber liquid. Taking my glass, I make my way through the club and downstairs to the bedroom I first brought her. There’s something about it that makes me stand still and not enter. I don’t know why, but I can’t go in. I stumble back and connect with someone behind me, the liquor taking effect.

  “Whoa, King, hey. Sorry, I thought I would check on you since you drank all the whiskey.”

  Righting myself, I smile at Sarah and laugh. “You’re a shitty observer. I’m drinking scotch.” Clinking my finger to my glass, I smirk. “I’m fine. I’m going to stay here for the night. No need to worry.”

  “Right, well, you seem fine. So…” She turns to walk away and then turns back around. “This is about that girl? Isn’t it?” Goddammit with everyone.

  “This is most definitely about a woman. One I won’t be having a conversation about.” My tone is anything but wavering.

  “Right, but…” Sarah chews her lip and then blurts out, “You should write down what you wish you could say to her.
I had a shrink tell me to do that once. Then you might feel better and stop almost killing employees and basically being a tyrant.” Her overstep has her worried; I can see it in her eyes.

  “Only because you are you, this conversation is ending without me becoming a tyrant. That’s your only get-out-of-jail-free card. Understand?”

  “Absolutely.” Taking a few steps backward, she nods her head and turns around to make her way back upstairs. “There’s notecards in the room.”

  Shaking my head at her bravado, I down the rest of my drink and look back to the damn door.

  Grabbing the handle, I let myself into the room with my key and close the door behind me. I walk over to sitting area and sink down into the cool leather chair, letting out a breath of frustration. My hand dangles off the side of the arm of the chair as I rest my eyes, heavy from the liquor. I must have fallen asleep momentarily because my body jumps as my hand touches the unexpected surface of the end table. Sitting up, I rake my hands through my hair and twist my head in the direction of where my hand hit. My eyes lock on the notecard and pen. I’m not sure why I feel compelled; she’ll never know the depth of my feelings. How could she when she’s never felt what it’s like to have your heart ripped out the first time you decide to give it?

  I don’t know what to write, but I’ll try anything to rid her from my mind, so I put down the only words I can.

  Morning comes too soon, but at least I was able to sleep in this Saturday morning. I stretch like a cat on my couch, then plop my feet down on the hardwood floors and push myself to stand, acclimating to being awake. I’m not a morning person. I’m more of a “don’t speak until after my coffee” kind of person. The only exception was when I spent the night with King; he definitely had something better to offer me than coffee.

  Making my way to the kitchen, I flow into my routine and breeze about, making breakfast for myself. The knock at my door causes me to jump, and I drop an egg on the floor.

  “Shit! Coming, hold on.” I wipe up most of the yolk and chuck it into the sink, wiping my hands as I make my way to the front door. Staring out the peephole, I see a man in a black suit holding a small white box.

  “Can I help you?” I say through the door. A girl can never be too careful.

  “Delivery for Drew Matthews.”

  “Thank you, but you can leave it at the front,” I call out, turning my head from the peephole.

  “Sorry, ma’am, but Mr. King’s request was specific. I am to deliver this to you personally.” What the hell?

  Fumbling with the door, I swing it open. “Mr. King?” Smoothing my hair out of my face, I’m failing miserably at playing it cool.

  “Yes, ma’am. He was very clear with his request.”

  “Okay, thank you,” I say, reaching out to accept the gift.

  “Good day.” The gentleman turns and walks away down the hallway, and I realize I’m still standing in the doorway watching him retreat.

  Closing my door, I look down at the square box. “Oh my god,” I whisper to myself as I set the box on the table. Then a thought occurs to me: What if it’s from Luca? Could be from the other Mr. King. Nope, no way. This is from my King. I pull the top off the box, and sitting in velvet is a skeleton key. The kind that King gives as membership to Church.

  I grab for the note and rip it open, greedy for his words.

  Fuck. He’s looking for retribution, but this is my opening. This time I won’t leave until he understands. It’s fitting for it to be back at Church. The crackling from the pan reminds me that I was in the middle of cooking eggs. I run back to the pan and chuck it in the sink, then try to slow my breathing. I’m breathless from that damn note. It took four damn words to have my entire body light up like a Christmas tree. Be prepared to beg.

  Breakfast is a disaster, so I call an emergency meeting at the café down the street. Gretchen walks in looking gorgeous, holding up her hands as if to say “What’s going on?”

  “Sit down. I already ordered your bagel.”

  “What is wrong with you? You look like a fancy homeless person. Are you wearing sweats under a negligee?” She looks at me like I’m deranged. She may be right.

  “Will you focus? I didn’t have time to change.”

  “Why? Are you on the lam?” she laughs.

  “Look.” I slap the card down between us and watch her face go through a myriad of reactions until her gaze rejoins my face.

  “Yep. My thoughts exactly,” I say, blowing out a breath as I lean back into the booth.

  We both sit for a minute just looking at each other and the card. “You better take kneepads because begging is not typically from a standing position.”

  I scream out with laughter and cover my face with one side of my cardigan.

  “What are you going to do?” Gretchen laughs out while the waiter delivers her bagel and my fruit.

  “I don’t know, but is it crazy that I’m this giddy? It’s our second chance, Gretchen. All I know is he’s going to have to put up a helluva fight to get rid of me.”

  “You have to wear something crazy hot. You should wear that new jumpsuit. The black one that cuts down all the way past your cleavage.”

  I’m talking about my forever, and she wants to discuss clothes.

  “What cleavage.” I laugh.

  “True, but he’s already seen the goods.” She takes a bite, mumbling out the rest of her sentence.

  “I just don’t want to make the same mistake. I hesitated—I made him feel like I didn’t believe in him. He isn’t…strike that, we aren’t anything like my past relationship. Choosing him doesn’t mean disregarding myself. It took me a minute to understand that, but I can’t wait to tell him. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in all my life.”

  “Sweet Jesus you’re in love. I’d ask if he has a brother, but I already know the answer. The real question is how do we get rid of his wife?”

  I roll my eyes at her and dig into my fruit.

  The rest of the morning we laugh and plot out the evening. I say my goodbyes to Gretchen and make my way back to my house to change from my hobo wear and begin my transformation to sex goddess. Tonight, I’m going to stake my claim on Dominic King.

  I MANAGE A NAIL APPOINTMENT and some lingerie shopping as well as a blowout. I’ve handled every possible aspect, but the day drags by, and I find myself ready to go two hours early. Strumming my fingers on my couch, I go to the bar cart by my window and pour myself a drink to calm my nerves. I’m nervous—very nervous. I can’t help but feel like this night has been orchestrated to make me feel this way. He’s definitely making this happen on his terms, but I’m okay with it. A guy like King doesn’t bend or compromise, but the rules are different for me and I know he’s giving me what he can give.

  My cell rings and I see it’s my dad. I debate for a moment, hoping he doesn’t ask what I’m doing tonight. I’m not sure I’m ready to share.

  “Hey, Dad.” My voice is chipper.

  “Hello, stranger. I almost forgot what your voice sounded like.”

  “Oh geez, come on. Works been busy, that’s all.” Grabbing the remote, I turn the television down.

  “Oh, I was hoping to hear you’d met a guy.”

  “Dad, come on.”

  “Well, I don’t want to you turning out like me, is all. Speaking of, have you talked to your mother lately? How is she?” Every conversation is the same with him. They’ve been divorced for ten-ish years, but he always asks about her.

  “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

  “Because it’s easier to ask you…”

  Yeah, right. “Mmhmm, sure.”

  “Oh, now, now. Let’s get back to your love life.”

  “No, thanks! Although, I do have a date tonight.” Date seems like the wrong word.

  “Well, there you go. What’s his name? What does he do?”

  “His name is Dominic, and he is in real estate mostly.” I leave off the part about a sex club. No need to traumatize my father.

>   “That’s great, kiddo. I hope it works out.” Me too.

  “Thanks, Dad. Hey, I have a conference in your neck of the woods next month. Let’s do dinner?”

  “I would love that. Give your mom my love.”

  “Will do, Dad. Bye.”

  We hang up and I check the time. Fuck, it’s only been twenty minutes. I can do this; I can make it without losing my mind. I need to pass the time quickly, so I grab my laptop and dig into work. Work always has a way of making me lose myself. When I look up, an hour has passed. I shut down my laptop and try to calm the nerves that are compounding.

  Double-checking my apartment to make sure I have everything I need, I lock the door and head out, making my way down to the street to hail a cab. I open and close my purse, triple-checking for the skeleton key. The whole evening has a surreal feeling, I want to pinch myself, but I’ll leave that to King. I haven’t been this happy since the first night we were together. He’s given me my opportunity, and I have no intention of spoiling this chance.

  The closer we get, the more flips my stomach does. Leaning forward, I look up into the rearview mirror and check my face. I’m so ready for him. He has no idea how ready. My nightly dreams have been so wet, I expected my body would fall into a coma in the hopes I never had to wake from them. Dreams to reality is what I’m hoping for.

  We pull up outside of Church, and I basically toss cash at the driver as my door is opened. It’s everything I remember. The aura starts from the outside. While the building itself is unassuming, it has a feeling. Maybe it’s the scent of sex escaping between the posts and nails. It’s sobering; it makes you stop and recognize that once the door is opened, there isn’t any going backward.

  I walk up the steps, and with each step I’m even more resolute in my commitment to King. The door opens, and I can hear the faint sounds of music coming from the main room, drawing me in like a dark siren’s call.

  “Do you have a key, ma’am?” the massive guard inside the door asks.