Vengeful Eyes: A Cane Novel 3

by Hart, Charlotte E

  I’ve settled for a sparkling ombre cocktail dress with a plunging neckline and short hem. I had to work on the cover up, but the crystal embellishments are pretty and shine in the lights. Black diamanté straps crisscross my back and keep me in the dress, my go-to Louboutin heels making my toned legs look even longer.

  “Do you plan all of your dresses with the intent of distracting men?”

  “No. I thought we went over this. I only choose to wear things for your benefit.”

  He looks me over, a brow raised at that answer, and strides away through the apartment without waiting for me. “Come. Otherwise, I’ll change my mind.”

  He’s quiet and brooding all the way to the restaurant. It makes for a tense ride, making me question what sort of date this is. I just stare out the window until we finally reach the destination he has in mind. I’m used to all sorts of behaviour from him. Brooding is yet another version of normal for me.

  The small bistro we end up in isn’t Benjamin’s usual type of establishment. It’s in an old part of the heights, a place he never normally brings me down to, and is much more intimate. I scan the room, confused by the venue and slightly on edge given my time with Andreas, as we’re shown to a small table at the back where only the wait staff will bother us. Nonetheless, the aroma of tomato, garlic and wine scent the air, making me hungry for pasta.

  We take our seats, and I try to force the tension around us to dissipate. The waiter returns a moment later and fills our water glasses while speaking Italian directly to Benjamin. It's odd to see, something I barely ever get from him. Occasionally, when he's on the phone in his office, but I've never witnessed him actually talk in the language. A hint of his past, perhaps. It rolls off his lips, highlighting an already deep and intoxicating tone.

  I watch on as a bottle of wine is poured a moment later, and the waiter hangs on Benjamin’s approval. He nods, nothing more, and my goblet is conservatively filled after his.

  “It suits you, the Italian,” I comment, looking him over. His brow arches, a smile tracing his lips. “Makes me think I’ve seen something new of you.”

  “Mmm.” He doesn’t speak further. Okay.

  I lift my glass to him for a toast, smiling. He clinks our glasses but then lounges back in his chair and raises his hand to his lips. He’s thinking something over and isn’t worried about letting me know about it.

  “I thought you wanted to come here on a date?” I ask, confused as to why he wants to spend the evening having dinner when clearly his mind is elsewhere.

  “I do.”

  “Okay. You seem to know this place. Anything you recommend from the menu?” I pick up the modest card and scan the options.

  “Everything is good here but order the pasta.”

  “Care to narrow it down? Most of the menu is a pasta dish.”

  “Spaghetti con le vongole or the spaghetti alla puttanesca.”

  I search for the items listed on the menu but don’t find anything to aid in my understanding of exactly what I’ll be getting with my spaghetti. “Sounds delicious. What if we have both? I can try some of yours?” My suggestion is firmly in date territory, but that is what we’re on, isn't it?

  He rubs his chin before bringing his wine to his lips. “Deal. But I want us to have some fun first. We’ll order whatever you want. But you’ll fuck me, here, at the table, and get me off before the waiter brings the meals.”

  He sets his glass down and looks over at me, eyes piercing through me in challenge. Date or not, though, it isn't a challenge. It's an order. My lips broaden into a smile, seeing the lust and power behind his gaze. It’s enough to set my pulse racing. Combine that with the Italian and the smell of the food, and I'm barely able to stop from drooling.

  “Here? In the restaurant?” I ask to clarify, even though I understood perfectly well.

  “Yes, Hope.”

  “Are we ready to order?” the waiter interrupts.

  It’s like the starting pistol to our own private race. Benjamin chuckles lightly as he delivers our request, still watching me as I stand and the waiter leaves our secluded area. My heels echo on the floor as I walk the few steps to him, swinging my hips to help start him off. He scrapes his chair back to give me a little more space.

  I straddle his hips, balancing the tips of my shoes on the wooden floor to lift myself up a fraction. My hand unzips his fly and coaxes his semi-hard cock from its confines. As soon as he’s in my hand, he thickens, and I stroke him back and forth a couple of times.

  He stares on, his hands not touching me as he smiles and gives me the room I need.

  “Mmm,” he hums, his posture relaxed as he brings the glass of the red wine to his mouth.

  The position is a little awkward at first, lifting to run the tip of his dick past the seam of my thong to my entrance. His body is completely still, showing no impatience to be inside me. He’s put this all down to me—his command, my obedience.

  As I sink down onto him, he stretches me, and there’s a slight tinge of pain as I’m not fully prepared for him. It makes me want to pause, but I don’t. I know he likes that. Any sign of pain from me quickens him, brings him closer to the edge faster. So, I seat myself completely and drape my arms around his neck to give me some leverage. My feet press up to rock my hips forward. I repeat the movement again and again, building a rhythm. The base of his cock teases at my clit, sparking lust through my blood, and with every sound of footsteps I still for a fraction, hoping we won’t be interrupted. Benjamin apparently doesn’t care. Not tonight anyway. He’ll take me when and where he chooses, even if it is in the middle of a restaurant.

  He arrogantly takes another sip from his glass as I press myself deeper against him, flexing my hips to rub in just the right place.

  “I said fuck me to get me off before the food comes. Not you, Hope. Where’s my wildcat?”

  The bastard.

  I grab the wooden back of the chair to gain more leverage and grind wildly in his lap, eyes trying to forget everyone else that might come in. The uncomfortable stretch is long gone; I can feel how wet I’ve become with every slide of him against my now swollen flesh.

  My breaths come out in desperate pants, my pulse flying as my heart thumps against my chest. I turn my head and watch the small entryway back to the main part of the restaurant. There’s a table through the gap with people laughing and joking. The low rumble of their voices travels to us.

  “Are you going to let them hear you come?”

  I screw up my eyes, ashamed that a shot of adrenalin fills my blood knowing I can be seen fucking Benjamin in public like this.

  Finally, Benjamin gives in and drops his glass to the table behind me, his hands grabbing my ass and shoving me hard down onto his cock. His movements are limited, but I recognise his need. I open my eyes and sit up tall on his lap, letting his hands control the final climb. My hair tumbles down my spine, tickling the skin on my back as I get swept away in my desire.

  Suddenly, Benjamin goes rigid and holds me close, biting into my neck. He pulses inside of me, and I lean forward on his chest, shoving my hand between us to seek my clit and my own climax. My face turns to the entry, and I see a man at the table staring at me. My finger rubs the swollen nub, and I bring myself to orgasm while the man’s eyes remain on us. It only fuels the experience, shaming me in some way as Benjamin chuckles and nips my earlobe.

  “Well, well, if I’d known you were an exhibitionist, I’d have fucked you in public before now,” he mutters, turning my head and kissing my mouth. It's a possessive, all-consuming kiss that leaves my body hungry for him rather than food.

  I almost dare the thought of another orgasm, but he slaps my ass, and I feel him slip from inside of me.

  “Off you get,” he says, looking towards the hallway. I do, in the most delicate fashion possible, while he tucks himself away.

  The waiter appears with two bowls of pasta as I take my seat.

  “Just in time, Hope.” Benjamin smirks.

  I’ve got
a feeling a lot more of that smile might be coming tonight.

  * * *

  “Thank you for tonight. It’s not what I expected, though.”

  “What? The fucking?”

  “No, nothing surprises me when it comes to that. I mean where we went. You’ve never taken me to a place like that before.” He doesn’t respond right away. “And the Italian is sexy.” I pull the dress off and put it in the hamper for the maid to address, padding my way over to the bathroom.

  “Old times. Used to go there back in the day. Grew up round there.” He did? My hand hovers as I look in the mirror, a frown dropping onto my face. “Nowhere better for pasta. I suppose I remember who I was around there.”

  “Well, it was delicious. As were you,” I reply, coming back out to him. “You know I’ll be going for an extra-long run tomorrow to compensate.”

  “Whatever you feel you need.”

  “Do you have any more work?” I ask tentatively.

  “No. Will you get my—”

  “Pill?” I interrupt.

  “Yes.”

  I smile and head back to turn the shower on, closing the door behind me. My heartbeat pounds loudly like it’s vying for my attention, and my stomach churns from nerves.

  One extra pill. Not even that, maybe half, and I’ll buy myself enough time to get up, slip out and be back. I’ll have to be early. Torino is due at six a.m., but he’ll think I'm still with Benjamin as long as he stays asleep. Getting back in will be more difficult, but this is it, the only shot I have.

  I turn the spray off and towel down then open the door to make sure Benjamin can see me. He likes to… appreciate my body whenever he can. So, I smooth cream onto my skin and face before pulling the medicine cabinet door open.

  My hands shake as I break the foil seal and crumble the first pill into the tumbler on the side. The breath hitches in my lungs as I break another and tip some of the powder in.

  Benjamin doesn’t have a direct line of sight to my position at the sink, but I’m still gambling with my life. I cover the powder in an inch of water and then strut out, still naked, to deliver his sleeping tonic.

  He takes it, his eyes riveted to my breasts, downs the liquid and hands me back the glass. “I want you naked tonight,” he says, tossing back the covers so I can slide in.

  It’s going to be a long night.

  Two hours later, Benjamin’s regular deep breaths sound like a metronome in the room. I pull out the burner phone from its hiding place, ready to get the information to them. If they don’t take this intel, I don’t know what else I’ll be able to do. I text the only number stored.

  Meet this morning. 5 a.m. Information on Cane. The Obelisk. Central Park.

  It’s two in the morning. The likelihood of a reply is slim. Hell, I might have set this all up, and Andreas might not get the message in time.

  The numbers on the clock tick past, getting closer and closer to what feels like my execution date. Once I do this, once I move against Cane, then my life is marked because despite my intentions being firmly aimed at Cane, Benjamin will feel the betrayal, too.

  When the numbers finally read 4:30 a.m. I creep from the bed and pull on some running clothes as well as a large hoodie hiding in the closet. The apartment is eerily quiet. I’ve spent hours upon hours alone in this building, but the weight of the silence now is shocking given Benjamin's still sleeping form.

  The door opens, and I glance to where Torino would normally be. All clear.

  The lobby is the last possible concern, but I know they have a skeleton staff overnight until Torino comes in at six.

  I use the electronic fob to exit and then set into my usual route to Central Park. My cover will be that I needed an early run and that Torino didn’t answer his phone. I dial his name and hang up before it goes through, but it will be enough to show on my phone history.

  The night is still black as pitch, but the path I take is ingrained in my feet. The cold air chills me to the bone and my puffs of white cloud dissolve as I breathe them out. I make it to the Obelisk, but there’s nobody out—no one is stupid to be in Central Park this early.

  “I see you came, then.” A voice emerges from the shadows, but I can’t see who it is.

  “Yes.” I try to force steel into my voice, but I’m not sure I’m that convincing.

  “And what do you have for me?” The figure remains hidden, but I recognise the slight accent as Andreas. I hope.

  “How about you come out where I can see you instead of hiding in the shadows.”

  Silence echoes in the night, nothing but the low hum of Manhattan around us. It sets my nerves on edge, making me question everything.

  “You look panicked, Hope.” I am, but he’s not getting that from me. I swing round to the sound of his voice, peering into the gloom and annoyed that he’s using my name.

  “Cut the crap, Andreas. Do you want the information or not?” I snap. I just need this done, and then I need to get back before I’m missed.

  “Easy, now. First, tell me why you’re doing this.” I glare into the night, unsure what the hell that has to do with anything.

  “That's none of your business.”

  “Trust,” he says, emerging from the shadow cast by a nearby tree. He steps closer to me, a deadly smile on his lips, “is something you'll have to humor me with.” Fine. Fucking people and their games.

  “Because I want Cane to rot in hell. I want them to feel what it’s like to have nothing and be treated like nothing.” With those words spitting out of me I feel all of the anguish, all the venom that my mother fed me crack open to the raw part of me I’ve kept buried inside. The part that wishes I was enough for my mother, that she didn’t need anything other than me.

  “Feisty. And you’ve come to me because?”

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I thought we were through with games.”

  “You’re the one coming to Yakuza in the middle of the night with intel. I think games are exactly what you’re playing.” His face hardens, challenging me to back away. I don’t.

  “Nice that you think of yourself as Yakuza. Shouldn’t you be on the Cane side of things? Your sister certainly seems to be?”

  He raises his hand, but he doesn’t strike.

  “Easy, Andreas. Let the girl speak.” The woman I recognise from the car approaches, and I wonder if I’ll ever make it out of the park. Who else is here with them? My eyes skit around, looking for more of them in case I need to run, but Andreas backs away at the woman’s order. Seems he’s got a temper like his sister. I wish I knew more about that story. I couldn’t hear what they discussed last night, and getting the operational information was more pertinent.

  “You know that anything you give to us will affect Vico,” she says, walking closer to me. “You can’t hurt one without the other.” Andreas smiles at her statement, enjoying this little dance we're waltzing to. I stand straighter, refusing to be seen as weak in front of them. I'm not, and this is my goal.

  “I’m hoping that anything past this can be used to bring the Cane world down. As I said, I want them to feel what it’s like to have nothing.” She smiles at me, her eyes looking me over as if she's impressed with my hatred.

  “If that’s your aim then I think we could be accommodating. As long as you play your part in this web.” The woman is so calm; her voice sends gooseflesh over my skin. “The Cane brothers took something of ours. Seeing them lose something precious to them would help to right that wrong.” That I can help with.

  “There’s a trap. They will feed you information about a large deal. It’s false. They want you there for a specific reason. Death.” She laughs, obviously amused at the thought. “The drugs will be in Philly at a warehouse before then. It’s called crosshatches, and it'll be heavily guarded. You'll have to plan something, but don’t go to the docks on the nineteenth. They'll be waiting for you.” The information sounds substantial, but neither Andreas nor the Yakuza woman react to my words other than her continued expression of
amusement.

  “Who’s to say we can trust this? You could be part of the trap,” Andreas states.

  “I could, but why? There’s no benefit for me.”

  “I’m afraid honesty is sorely lacking in our line of work. I guess you’re not being honest about where you are at this very moment.” She stares at me, daring me to bite. I don’t. I check my watch instead, needing to get this done and move.

  “Listen, that’s all the information I have. Know that they are smart, and pissed off, and they want to hurt you. You have the details.”

  “And we’ll contact you when we need more. You took a big gamble reaching out to us. It could have been anyone's number,” Andreas says, swaggering about as if he’s running the show now. He's not, though. She is. I look at her rather than him, knowing she seeks the same sort of revenge that I do.

  “I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to hurt the Canes for years. This is my shot. I’m not going to let a little risk stand in my way.” She nods at me, hopefully accepting my explanation.

  “A woman scorned?” Another small laugh comes from her.

  “Now, are we done?”

  “We are,” she replies, flicking her finger at Andreas to summon him over to her. “Keep the phone close, Miss Winters,” she continues. “This game is far from over.”

  They slip back into the shadows of the park, and I’m left in the darkest of places.

  I want to burst into tears.

  A mixture of relief and regret swamp me when I see I’m alone. Because alone is all I’ll have if this goes wrong.

  I pick up my phone and text Torino, telling him I took off early because I couldn’t sleep. He’ll be getting to the building about now. Just as I send the message, the heavens open and the rain begins to pelt the ground, soaking me in the process. I rush in the direction of the small coffee shop on the corner of the park and wait under the awning for it to open.

  Ten damp minutes later, I see Torino storming over to me, his feet splashing through the puddles. There’s a young man attempting to open up the shop, and he isn’t in a hurry to get it done.