by Rowena
“That sounds like some Tony Robbins bullshit,” I say.
“Maybe,” he says.
Nothing I say gets a rise out of him. It’s like he has no buttons to push, and it’s driving me a bit mad. The hell kind of guy doesn’t have a temper and buttons you can push?
Weird philosophical bullshit.
I know how the boss is—the boss is the iron hand, even if it sometimes appears wearing a velvet glove. The glove is the lie, just like that shit he just spouted.
A boss works for his men. Yeah, right.
I walk down the hallway and stop in front of the bathroom.
He stops behind me.
“Well,” I say, feeling awkward and shy.
“Well, indeed,” he says.
“What now?” I ask.
“I’m making arrangements for you. Since it’s very unlikely that they’ll just let you go, you need to disappear. A new identity, money, and a new place with a fresh start.”
“You’re kidding me,” I say.
“What?” he asks, tilting his head to one side, those fucking piercing blue eyes of his burning into my marrow. “Kidding—why would I do that?”
“Because… because no one does things like that for someone. You don’t know me and don’t owe me anything. I don’t know if I could ever repay you even. What do you want from me?”
“Did I say you would have to repay me?”
“No, but no one does anything for free.”
“I see.”
“No, it doesn’t make any sense,” I say, bringing my fingers to my forehead. “What’s the string?”
“No strings. I’m setting you up in Washington, far from here. New identity, a job, a home. All you have to do is take it.”
“Bullshit.”
He arches an eyebrow and my stomach ties itself into knots.
I know better than to trust this. No man works this way. They all want something.
I narrow my eyes and do my best not to lose myself in the sapphire pools of his.
My heart beats so hard, it feels like he should be able to see it beating against my ribcage.
My breathing is shallow as my core tightens.
Why the hell does he have this effect on me?
He smiles and my knees feel weak; I can barely keep myself upright.
“Okay, one string,” he says.
I knew it! There’s always a string.
Nothing in this world is free. Everything and everyone has a price; my father taught me that lesson above all others.
“Of course, there is,” I say, relaxing, back in familiar territory. “What is it?”
“Be happy,” he says.
“What?” I ask, my mind reeling with confusion.
“Be happy,” he repeats. “You’re a beautiful woman. I’d like to see you happy.”
My knees are absolute water.
The sincerity and feeling in his words make me faint. Willpower alone keeps me upright.
I want to fall into his arms.
He’s dangling everything I’ve ever wanted in front of me. An escape. A way out from the hell that was my life under my father’s roof.
I can’t process this. It’s too much to consider, and all these feelings rushing through me are making it impossible to clear my head.
I can’t wrap my mind around his words; meanwhile, my body is quivering and flooding my brain with signals that it wants him to play it like an instrument.
“I need to shower and um, about those clothes?” I do my best to keep my voice from quavering as I change the subject, but I think I fail.
“Francesca is taller than you but will probably have something to get you by until we can acquire something more your size,” he says. “I’ll ask her to bring some things to your room.”
“Thank you,” I say, uncertain what to do or say next.
“Thank you,” he says in a deeper voice, then his lips suddenly are on mine and stars explode in my mind.
Is this real?
I’m spinning as his lips move against mine, hard and soft all at once, and emotions shoot through my body.
Passion surges through me and I’m wet in no time, soaking the seat of my panties. My nipples harden inside my bra, rubbing painfully against the cloth.
The floor spins beneath me and I never want this to stop.
I move my mouth with his, our lips pulling at each other’s with bruising force.
His passion pours into me, filling me up until it feels like I’ll explode.
But then he suddenly steps back, his shocking blue eyes boring into me, cutting through the haze and confusion.
I have one hand still up between us, where moments before it rested on his chest.
My fingers ache for the feel of him again. My pussy pulses, wanting things I’ve only ever imagined.
He smiles a little then turns and walks down the hall without another word, leaving me longing for more, my chest heaving, my eyes refusing to leave him.
I watch him step through the door as my heart rate finally starts to slow.
Finally, I step backward into the bathroom and close and lock the door.
Leaning on the sink, I stare into the mirror.
My face is smeared with a bit of blood, but my eyes go to the smear of my lipstick.
My first kiss and it was with him—the one man my father wants dead more than any other.
I touch my lips, still tingling with the passion of our kiss.
Part II
Turning the Tide
7
Donnie
Life settles into a routine.
I like routines. Routine means that things are going according to plan.
Bella seems happy enough living with us while I’m working on setting her up.
It’s taking a bit longer than I expected. I can’t use my normal resources for new IDs for fear that the Baldinis might get wind of it. I’ve got a man finding a new source while my crew and I keep a low profile.
My plan requires time.
I want the Baldini family at ease, convinced of their easy victory.
On one hand, I think it’s too easy. Things are going too perfectly. The attack that first night has been the only hitch.
Bella cares for Alex daily, and under her ministration, he’s not only going to survive but make a full recovery.
Watching her work makes me happy in a way I’ve never experienced before.
She’s gentle in her care, with a softness and concern that creates trust. She cracks jokes with Alex, keeping his spirits up. Yesterday, he was up and walking on his own, and she says that by the end of the week, he’ll be fully functional.
Ah, Bella.
I shouldn’t have kissed her.
It was impulsive and rash, everything I pride myself on not being.
I’m not sure why I did it, but I don’t regret it.
Well, not really—or maybe I do.
I think about that kiss more than I should, that I do know.
Lying in my bunk at night, I remember the feel of her soft, full lips against mine, the heat of her hand on my chest, and the loud beating of my heart. The way she gasped then gave into the kiss.
I wanted more—so much more—but she’s a guest and in the end, I don’t really know her. Can I trust her?
Max walks into the office so I push aside my personal concerns. I’ve no time for them right now anyway.
“How goes it?” I ask.
Max shrugs. He’s been sullen for weeks, more so than usual.
Max and I grew up together. My father adopted him from the street after Max tried to pickpocket him. My father had a soft spot for ‘strays’ as he called them—kids growing up on the streets, unsure of where their next meal would come from.
Dad brought Max home, and from that time forward, we were the best of friends. He’s my brother, no matter what the world may say or think.
“There was an issue,” he says without preamble, plopping himself down on the couch.
His hoodie is pul
led up over his head and strands of his hair peek out from underneath of it.
He opens the laptop he’s carrying and lays it on his legs, talking to it more than me.
“What issue?” I ask.
“Francesca will be along shortly to tell you,” he says.
“Max?”
“What?” he asks absently, not looking away from the screen.
“Is Francesca here now?” I ask patiently.
“Huh?” He looks around and the way his eyes widen, he seems surprised to see where he is.
“Yes? Oh, shit. No.”
Max is a bit of a ‘nerd’. Always has been. He was picked on in school, and if not for me—his older brother by a year—he probably would have been the target of even more incessant bullying.
His social skills are slim in the best of times, but lately, he’s been worse than ever.
Something is going on with him, but I can’t put my finger on it.
He’s withdrawn, yes—but that’s normal for Max. He’s never been as interested in the world around him as he is in whatever is going on on his screens. The computer is his world. He’s the one with the skills that will take our family into the twenty-first century, and we all know it. I’m the one guiding him along, but it’s his brains and skills that make it work.
I smile at him, waiting for him to sort himself.
“Max?” I nudge him.
“Yeah, sorry. Uh, the surveillance crew—they were made. One of them. Guy didn’t report in; I figure he’s gone.”
“Shit,” I say.
“Yeah, but it’s double-blind, you know?”
“Yes, Max, I set it up,” I say.
“Yeah, I know, but it won’t matter, ‘cause he doesn’t even know who he’s working for. He has nothing to tell them.”
I nod my understanding and Max returns to his computer.
“You should get out more, Max,” I say.
“I do,” he says.
“I mean in the real world, not in one of your online games.”
“I did… do. Sometimes,” he says, frowning.
The last few years, Max and I haven’t been as close as we used to be. When my dad brought me fully into the business, there were too many things I couldn’t talk to him about. It created a rift between us—a distance there’s no easy fix for.
I miss when we were tighter, but at the same time, I don’t want to put him in danger. I don’t know what goes on in his world any more than he does in mine.
Unfortunately, that’s the way it has to be. It keeps him safe.
My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts.
“Yes, Francesca?”
“Coming in. We have an issue,” she says tersely.
“I’ve heard. Still, let’s go over everything. Come on in.”
As I hang up the phone, I see her walking across the warehouse.
I stand, looking at Max.
I shake my head. He’s buried in his computer.
“Max, come on, we need to meet.”
“In a minute,” he says, not looking up.
“In the conference room,” I say, leaving him behind.
The conference room is another office with a large table dominating the space. Chairs are spaced evenly along all sides.
I walk to the far end and take my seat at the head of the table. Francesca enters a moment behind me and takes her seat on my left. My top men come in and take their seats until there are a dozen of us.
The chair to my right remains empty, waiting for Maxwell.
I sit in silence, waiting for him. The men talk softly among themselves while Francesca stares.
Max walks in at last, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear he’d been crying.
I need to find out what’s going on with him.
He takes his seat and hunches down, holding the laptop to his chest like a shield. All those assembled at the table look at Max then at me.
I rise to my feet, smiling, and silence falls.
“Good evening,” I begin, then Bella walks into the room.
All eyes shift from me to her.
She blushes, her skin burning bright, and it’s absolutely erotic, making my cock twitch.
She looks around the room, appearing lost, then her eyes lock with mine.
I want to save her, pull her from the shark-infested waters to safety. Wrap my arms around her and protect her from the dangers of the world we live in.
I can feel my heartbeats in my throat.
Her mouth opens, and the memory of her sweet lips on mine is almost more than I can bear.
“Um, sorry?” She makes it a question addressed to me.
“Bella, join us, please,” I say gently, my voice not letting on my carnal thoughts.
Francesca kicks my shin under the table, making my welcoming smile falter.
Bella walks forward slowly, uncertain, stopping at the open chair at the opposite end of the table.
“Are you nuts?” Francesca whispers but I ignore her.
“I can leave,” Bella says. “I just… I didn’t know… ”
“It’s fine,” I say, cutting her off.
I motion to the chair and she sits down, looking around and obviously nervous.
A low murmur passes around the room, but no one will speak out against my decision.
Max, for his part, doesn’t seem interested at all. He swings his chair back and forth and mutters something softly under his breath.
Everyone else is looking expectantly to me.
“What are you doing?” Francesca whispers.
I smile at her. “Okay, so update me,” I say.
“We lost an asset, one assigned to monitor the Baldini family,” Francesca says.
“Double-blind?” I ask covertly. I’m watching Bella.
This will be her test. Is she with me or against me? Is she a plant or is she really looking to get out?
How she acts—every motion, every facial tic—will tell the tale.
I’m good at reading people. It’s brought me my success in life, knowing when to bet on a person and when not to trust them. The reason poker is not a game of chance is because of the people involved. When played by computers, it truly is chance and random odds. Played by people, it’s about knowing your opponent, reading their tells.
“Yes, he has nothing he can give,” Francesca says.
“Are we sure they have him?” I ask, and I see Bella’s eyes widen just a bit at the corners.
Surprise. She’s surprised by this turn of events.
“Maxwell?” Francesca says.
Max continues swaying back and forth and murmuring, oblivious to his surroundings.
“Maxwell!” Francesca yells.
“What?” he yells, looking around, startled.
Francesca shakes her head, and murmurs fly around the table.
Bella looks sad, sympathetic to Max.
Watching her watch him, I can see her heart; she cares. She doesn’t know him—doesn’t know any of us, really—but she cares about him. I’ve held her in captivity, more or less, and she is still concerned about Max.
A slow smile spreads across my face. I suddenly like her even more.
“Are we sure?” Francesca asks, as if Max hadn’t just yelled.
“Sure, uh, yeah. We’re sure,” he says, looking around like he’s lost.
I worry about him.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was using drugs, but Max has always stayed clean. He’s never even smoked a cigarette.
“Okay,” Francesca says uncertainly.
“Well, enough. He’s double blind, so he knows nothing that he can spill. Unfortunate, but it’s the risk,” I say. “What else?”
“They’ve moved into full operation,” Francesca says. “I’m honestly surprised how fast they started operations on the docks. They were ready for it, so odds are they were planning to attack us there anyway.”
“I suspected it,” I say, and a murmur of admiration runs around the table.
It�
�s not like it was hard to ascertain. Emilio wanted the docks since my dad took them years ago. My dad’s mysterious ‘accident,’ which we all know wasn’t one, and the building up of men that Emilio was doing—there was only one obvious target.
Still, I let them admire my ingenuity.
Bella watches me from the other end of the table.
I love the way her hair falls around her face, loose dark curls that accent her pale skin. Her full lips purse then part and all I want to do is kiss them. I imagine the weight of her full breasts in my hands, the feel of the curve of her hips under my fingers…
I shake my head; I need to focus. I don’t have time for thoughts like that, not now.
“Overall, I think we’re ready for phase two,” Francesca says.
“What’s phase two, boss? This plan of yours—it seems crazy,” AJ says, bold enough to say what they’re all thinking.
AJ heads one of the crews. He’s new to the table but has proven himself in the field. He’s a big, high school linebacker type with broad shoulders and a blocky head with a crew cut. He’s not the smartest, but he’s not dumb, though the heavy brow and thick eyebrows make him look that way.
I don’t want a team of yes men, so I encourage him by responding, “What do you mean, AJ?”
He looks surprised, but if it’s because I spoke to him or because he actually spoke out loud, I’m not sure.
“I mean… well…” he stammers. “We had the docks. Why give them to him? He couldn’t hurt us. Well, not that bad.”
“Are you sure about that, AJ?” I ask.
All eyes shift between the two of us, waiting to see the outcome. No one knows what to expect.
Bella watches too, and the shock on her face is plain for all to see. She knows too much.
There’s something about her that rings off to me; something in her story doesn’t add up. If I could only put my finger on what it is…
“Well, no boss, but you know—I mean, we had it. Then you give it to him. Just like that. It don’t make sense.”
I stand and turn my back on them all, clasping my hands behind me.
The room goes silent and I let it stretch.
Rolling my shoulders and neck, I kill more time, letting the tension build.