by Ashley Jade
His chair begins to turn and I force myself to stand tall.
DeLuca's cold, dark eyes appraise me up and down for a lengthy minute. "You're wearing my favorite dress," he says after what feels like forever. "No one can wear the color red quite like you can."
His eyes soften for the briefest of seconds and I'm immediately on edge. "You look beautiful, Bambina."
I cross my arms over my chest, attempting to shield myself from his intrusive gaze.
He gives me a knowing smirk and I feel myself shrink down. That smirk tells me what I already know. I can't ever hide from him.
I close my eyes and remember Emilio's words from earlier. "Please, do whatever it takes in order to protect yourself. If not for you...then for him."
The smoke from his cigar wafts in front of my face and I can't help but cough.
"Does it hurt?" he asks, his jaw hardening.
I open my mouth to ask what in particular he's referring to, but his eyes darken and he cuts me off. "Seeing him every day?" He leans back in his chair and folds his hands in front of him. "Knowing he'll never look at you the same way again? Knowing he'll never love you again?"
I look down and swallow the lump forming in my throat. Then I raise my chin defiantly before hissing, "Yes."
His mouth curves into the most sinister smile I've ever seen. "Good." His eyes burn into me and I feel my breath leave my lungs. "Now you know how I feel."
He sits up in his seat. "I've loved you since the moment I first saw you." He stabs his cigar into the ashtray violently. "I didn't give a fuck that you were only 15. You were and still are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I had to have you back then...and I knew I'd do anything to make it happen." He rubs his lower lip with his thumb, staring at me intently. "That hasn't changed, Lucianna."
I don't know why he's being so candid about all this with me right now. It's starting to remind me of the past. Back when we used to talk about anything and everything.
Back when I felt safe and thought he was my savior.
He crooks a finger at me and pats his leg.
I walk over to him, my heart beating erratically the entire time.
I start to kneel down in front of him, but to my surprise—he pulls me onto his lap, then he shifts me until he's holding me in his arms. Just like he used to.
His hand lands on my thigh and he rests his chin on top of my head. "Remember when we used to stay up talking all night and I held you in my arms just like this?"
I give him a small nod because it's all I can manage. This conversation and the way he's acting is severely screwing with me and I don't know how to make it stop.
Because I can't.
His grip on my thigh tightens. "Remember the night you told me about all the things he did to you and I swore on everything I ever loved that I'd kill him for you?"
"I remember," I say, blinking back tears. "I could never forget because you were the first person I ever told."
He sweeps my hair aside and kisses the spot just under my ear. "I know, Bambina." He slides a finger under my chin, lifting my head up. "You were my brave little broken bird...the beautiful girl who managed to steal my heart when I didn't even have one."
I can't control the tears streaming down my face because there was a time I once loved this man. Actually loved him.
There was a time I would have done anything for him, followed him anywhere...including the fiery pits of hell where my heart and soul currently reside.
He turns me ever so slightly so that I'm facing him directly. He raises my hand and kisses my left ring finger. "Love me again, Bambina. Tell me what I have to do to make you love me again."
The tears fall faster because I know the truth—Nothing.
There's nothing that could ever take back what he did.
However, there's something I desperately need from him—but of course, it's also the one thing I can't ever request.
Ricardo's safety.
Nevertheless, there might be a way to get it if I play along.
Besides, I doubt I'll have to do it for long anyway. A few months, tops.
By then the council will realize DeLuca didn't break the curse and come to the unanimous decision to protect Ricardo.
Then I can strike.
But first I have to pull out all the stops...and that requires making him think that what he wants...is exactly what I want.
But I can't do that without snapping the last part of myself that's still holding me together...the part that's barely hanging on by a thread.
It's the only way, I remind myself. Despite my hate for Ricardo...I refuse to let DeLuca kill him.
I grab both his cheeks and lean my forehead against his. "Give me a baby." I reach behind me and undo the zipper to my dress. "Your baby."
His eyes pierce me when I stand up and my dress falls to the floor.
I hook my thumbs onto the sides of my panties but he halts me. "Let me." His hands skim my lower back and he pulls me to him.
I gasp when he drops to his knees before me and plants soft kisses along my stomach.
I close my eyes in torment because unlike Ricardo's soft kisses that once healed me, DeLuca's kisses are searing all my scars open again.
I jump back when I hear the door to his bedroom open and in walks the last person I was expecting to see.
That woman...that witch from Italy.
"What the fuck?" I sputter, looking around for something to cover myself up.
DeLuca grabs hold of my arm. "She needs to be here, Bambina."
I open my mouth to protest but she looks at Deluca. Her eyes shoot daggers at him and her mouth twists into a snarl before she says, "In order for this to be effective, you cannot harm her. It has to be an act of true love or the spell will not work."
She gives him the nastiest look I've ever seen. It's so intense my mouth hangs open in shock. It's obvious this woman hates DeLuca.
DeLuca grunts and glares at her. "I'm aware. That part has already been taken care of." His eyes fall on me. "Right, Bambina?"
"Yes," I whisper, practically choking on the words. "I love you, mio amore."
If I wasn't so desperate to save Ricardo, I'd start laughing at how ridiculous this all is. He grabs my hips and begins kissing my stomach again.
He swiftly removes my panties and his tongue dips inside my navel. The witch begins chanting something I'll never in a million years understand, but I don't miss the mischievous smirk on her face.
Terror creeps up my spine because although I don't believe in magic or curses, the woman has the creepy look down to a science.
However, when her eyes find mine they become warm and her smirk turns into a comforting smile.
DeLuca's back is turned to her so he doesn't see when she winks and gestures for me to keep going.
And he definitely doesn't see when she pulls a dandelion out of her dress pocket and gently blows on it, sending seeds scattering across the room.
"I made your wish for you this time," she tells me as my eyes fill with tears.
I look down, certain that DeLuca must have heard her and fearing the repercussions, but he's still kissing his way down my stomach.
And then she says something that makes my dead heart jump start. "Il mio piccolo superstite." Only it's not her voice I hear this time...it's Ricardo's.
She gestures to me again, this time her eyes are pleading with me to keep leading DeLuca on.
I give her a small nod and my eyelids fall shut. Then I fist his hair, urging him to venture lower and he does.
That familiar dirty feeling of Shame begins to envelop me but she shakes her head.
"Il mio piccolo superstite," I hear her whisper to me over and over again as DeLuca's touches begin to turn into Ricardo's.
Chapter 29 (Ricardo)
"I love you, sugarplum."
Jackson and I exchange a glance.
"I promise I'll call you later, sugarplum," Tyrone continues. "I've missed you so much. I can't wait to see you, sugarplum."
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"So help me God, if he says sugarplum one more time," I say under my breath.
I'm happy for Tyrone—despite the fucked up state my own heart is in...but enough is enough already.
Jackson pinches the bridge of his nose and grunts. Misery loves company and considering we've been each others for the last few months, I know he's just as fed up with Tyrone's 'sugarplum' crap as I am.
I'm almost positive he's doing it on purpose as a way of getting under our skin—in hopes it will force us to talk to our exes. Too bad for him, it's having the opposite effect.
Besides, Lou-Lou and I were never that sappy with one another. And if by chance we ever were? It definitely wasn't in front of anyone. We kept our sappy shit behind closed doors.
Because we had to. Because she was never actually mine.
I slam my beer down on the table and curse.
Countless 'sugarplum's' later, Tyrone finally gets off the phone.
Although as soon as he turns around and makes a face at us, I wish he'd get right back on it.
I look at Jackson and his expression matches mine. We both know what's coming and neither of us feels like dealing with it.
Especially me. Especially tonight.
Tonight she'll be back in her apartment...after two nights of doing things I have to force myself not to think about because I'll go on a fucking rampage.
"Guys," Tyrone starts. "Y'all could be just as happy as I am if you would both stop being so stubborn."
Jackson grunts again and I reach for my beer.
He points to me first. "You going out and screwing anything in a skirt night after night isn't helping you. You need to walk down the hall and talk to Lou-Lou. I don't care what you say, man...she meant more to you than you're letting on."
My breath freezes in my lungs. She meant everything to me.
When I don't respond, he starts in on Jackson and I fight like hell not to let my thoughts drift back to her.
But drift back to her they do. They always fucking do.
Her big doe eyes, perfect lips, feisty attitude...the way it felt to be deep inside of her.
And the worst memory of all—the way she crushed my heart and turned it into fucking dust the moment she married my father and agreed to plot my death.
I'll never understand what I did to deserve all that from her. There was a time I would have bet my own life that she actually loved me.
I felt it.
I chug the rest of my beer. It doesn't matter what I felt...it was all one big fat lie.
And I'm the chump who fell for it...fell for her. Just like he wanted me to.
Funny thing is DeLuca doesn't even have to kill me...because I'm pretty fucking dead inside already.
Hell, if it wasn't for Jackson and Tyrone's friendship...I'd have no lifeline to keep me from going under.
It's also the only thing keeping me from going after him.
"Oh for fuck's sake!" Jackson roars, bringing me out of my thoughts.
Looks like Tyrone pushed him to his limit.
Tyrone stops talking and I can't help but laugh because I see the determined look in his eyes. He's just getting started.
Just like I predicted, Tyrone claps his hands. "Okay, this is progress. Let it out. Jackson, why don't you start first. How did it make you feel when Alyssa hurt you?"
Like swallowing shards of glass that were lit on fire. How the hell does he think it felt?
I know damn well Jackson's not going to talk 'feelings' with Tyrone. At least, not about the ones pertaining to Alyssa hurting him. I look at him and smirk. "You gonna answer that?"
He gets up from the couch. "Fuck no. Let's grab a drink." He looks at Tyrone. "Feel free to stay back and watch some more Doctor Phil."
"And bake some cookies while you're at it, sugarplum," I add, because giving him shit is so much better than his version of therapy.
Tyrone gives us the finger. "Fuck you both. I was only trying to help."
Jackson tosses him his jacket. "If you wanna help you can buy us a round at the bar."
I grab my phone and pull up the address to a bar I overheard a few guys talking about at the gym. Or rather, the bartender they were talking about.
Maybe this chick's the one who can make me forget all about Lou-Lou.
Especially tonight.
"You guys down to try a new spot? It's kind of a hole in the wall, but rumor has it the bartender is easy on the eyes."
"Fine," Jackson says. "But I'm not looking for pussy. I'm just looking to drink."
I mutter a curse as I watch some dude with frosted blond tips wearing eyeliner flip a bottle in the air.
I'll do anything to help me forget about Lou-Lou for more than 10 minutes at a time...but there's just some lines I have absolutely no desire to ever cross.
The corner of Jackson's lips twitch. "Is there something you'd like to tell us, Ricardo?"
Beside him, Tyrone laughs.
"I guess I just assumed the hot bartender was a girl," I grit through my teeth.
Of course, the giant ken doll who's built like a damn linebacker chooses that exact moment to look up and wink at me.
And of-fucking-course, it only makes Tyrone laugh that much harder. "Ah. So you do think he's hot?"
I give him a look somewhere between— 'I'm going to punch you in the fucking face' and 'Are you shitting me?' as the bartender saunters over to us. "What can I get you, boys?"
I take a seat at the bar. I'm not going home with Mr. Frosted tips...but I'm sure as fuck not going home alone, either. "Are you the only one who's working tonight?" I ask. "Because there's supposed to be a hot bartender who works here."
I glance at my watch...she'll be pulling up to the apartment any moment now.
The guy looks offended and I'm about to apologize but Jackson clears his throat and says, "I think what my rude buddy means is—is there a female bartender working here?"
"A hot one," I interject while having a look around the bar. Fucking place looks like a goddamn sausage factory. Where the hell are all the women? Why are there so many dudes here tonight?
That's when it occurs to me. Holy hell, I brought them to a gay bar.
Tyrone's never going to let me live this shit down.
Jackson quickly introduces us to the bartender who's name I now know is Shane. We all watch as he flips a bottle in the air and says, "I like you, Jackson."
Jackson doesn't say a word but he looks highly uncomfortable at the moment. I return Tyrone's now shit-eating-grin as we watch Jackson try to finagle his way out of being hit on.
Shane flips another bottle in the air and winks at him. "So, you know what I'm gonna do for you, sexy?"
Tyrone pats Jackson on the back and whispers, "I'm so glad I came here tonight. This is awesome."
Jackson shoots me a dirty look and I can't help but laugh.
Shane slams his hand down on the bar. "I'm going to introduce you to my employee," he tells Jackson.
"Come again?"
"The hot female bartender...you're interested right?"
He shakes his head. "No," he says while pointing to me. "He is. The only thing I want is some whiskey if you have it."
I glance at my watch again. Lou-Lou's definitely back home now. "When will she be here?" I ask Shane.
He looks at the clock on the wall. "In about 20 minutes. But if you're looking for a quick screw, trust me...she's not it," he says before turning to a different set of customers.
Images of Lou-Lou with DeLuca flash through my head.
"If she's hot, I'll have no problem giving her a long and slow screw," I say under my breath.
Jesus, I need a fucking drink. I need to stop thinking about her. I look at Shane and gesture to Jackson's drink, letting him know I'll have the same.
Tyrone looks at me and shakes his head. "I already told you, man. You can screw as many women as you want. It's not going to keep your mind off of Lou-Lou. Just talk to her."
"Drop it," I bark, because Lou-Lou and I have absol
utely nothing to talk about.
Jackson finishes his drink and puts money on the bar. "Ready to go?"
Hell no. I'm not going back to the apartment right now. Not without a distraction at least.
It's clear tonight's not going to end with me bringing home pussy...but I'll be damned if it's not going to end with me being three-sheets to the fucking wind.
It will be hard to think about her if I'm passed out drunk.
I shrug."Nah. We're here now. We might as well stay awhile."
I swirl the amber liquid around my glass and down it. "We came here to drink our troubles away anyway."
Jackson clicks his empty glass against mine. "I'll drink to that."
Three games of darts and five rounds later we walk back to the bar for another round.
Or in Jackson's case....stumble because instead of just having one shot of 151 like Tyrone and me. The fucker slammed three shots of 151.
Worst part is? Jackson doesn't ever drink.
I've got a heavy buzz going on, but it's not enough. She's still at the forefront of my mind and I fucking hate it.
The bar's semi-crowded now, so we're forced to take the last three seats at the end of the bar.
My eyes immediately zone in on what looks like an almost exact replica of Lou-Lou. At least from the back it does.
My dick twitches for the first time in fucking ever as I take in her long, dark, shiny hair and mini skirt.
When she bends over the large cooler, her skirt rises and my mind flashes back to every single time Lou-Lou would raise her perfect little ass in the air for me before I'd take her hard and deep from behind.
I bring my knuckle to my mouth and bite it. "Fuck me that's hot."
I'm brought out of my haze when I notice Tyrone shaking his head while looking down at his lap. "My dick belongs to Shelby. This is Shelby's dick," he chants to himself.
What the actual fuck?
Jackson and I burst out laughing. It's probably the alcohol, but it feels fucking good to laugh again after months of nothing but non-stop heartache.
"Goddamn, man," Jackson says to Tyrone, clearly unaware of the way his words are starting to slur.
I decide to have another look at the brunette. I quickly realize it's not Lou-Lou's twin after all due to the 2-3 inch height difference.