Beautifully Mine

by Tara Lee

  “Good doing business with you, Bishop.” He turns, and before he can walk out my door, I ask.

  “What the hell business do you need me for?”

  He winks.“Why, to take down the biggest douchebag since my father.”

  I eye him with confusion.

  “Niall Eaton.” He sees the moment the name registers, and he nods.

  “He’s a real piece of work, and since he’s Callie’s daddy, I thought you’d want in on this. Once you find out what he’s been doing, you’ll want to take him out as much as I do.”

  Fuck, I don’t even know where to start.

  The hours of research I’ve done on Callie’s father turns up nothing. I rub my hands over my face, frustrated I can’t find anything. I slam my laptop down, wondering what the fuck Brantley knows and why he needs my help?

  I light up a cigarette and inhale the nicotine. I’ve quit a dozen times, but this helps stop the urge.

  I’ve been sober for three years now. I fell apart at twenty-one after going sober for God knows how many times and got into some heavy shit. After my mother was murdered, I spiraled. It took years from my life and made me into someone I loathed.

  I hated who I had become, and seeing Ethan go down that same path made me become protective of him; I see him as my little brother, the one I never had.

  At thirty years old, I’m older than Ethan by seven years. It’s my duty to protect him, stop him from making the same mistakes I did. It didn’t help that Brantley had been dead for nine years, only for Ethan to find out his brother had faked his own death and had been in hiding.

  Not only did that bomb blow some shit up, but Ethan’s father was Lorenzo Vincent, biggest mob boss in New York City.

  This man is responsible for so much, including what I thought was my mother’s murder. Yeah, I left that out when Ethan informed me who he was. He didn’t need that on his mind along with all the other shit he had going on.

  Lorenzo is just lucky Jacob exonerated him. I have a friend in the FBI who owed me a solid.

  He got all the dirt on Lorenzo and Brantley and gave it to Ethan in return for his freedom. All he did was hand it over. Of course, there were copies, but they didn’t know that.

  They had tried to kill Ethan to make a point, but they wanted— no, they needed— Ethan on their side. His father was a real piece of work, and Brantley was well. I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.

  Brantley needs me that much, and it’s obvious, if I’m going to help him take down Niall Eaton, he’s going to do something for me.

  I may not accept this lifestyle completely, but if it’s going to protect the people I care about, then I’ll use it to my advantage.

  I’ll lose my piccolina when the real me surfaces, but really, I don’t deserve her. Demetrius’ aren’t meant to get happily ever afters. Especially not me after lying to her all this time.

  I stand waiting for Brantley and Ethan. I refuse to go behind Ethan's back when it involves his devious brother. Brantley is hiding something, and I’m going to pull it from him even if I have to beat him to do so.

  Ethan comes into the shop, rubbing his hands together.

  “Dude, this better be fucking important. Madden went to sleep early for a change, and I was ready to sink balls deep into my wife.” He growls.

  I hold my hand up, not needing that visual of him sinking into Luna.

  “It’s important.”

  He simply nods, knowing I wouldn’t have called him here if it wasn’t.

  “This better be fucking life or death, motherfucker.” Brantley curses as he yanks the door open, slamming it behind him.

  He gets in my face, and I simply smirk and pull my hand back and clock him straight in the nose. I held back earlier, controlling the monster within, but all I see now is what he did to Ethan.

  “You mother fucker.” He roars and holds his nose while blood pours out.

  “That’s for Ethan and every fucked-up thing you did to that kid.” I pull him by his shirt ready to give him another when Ethan yanks my arm back.

  “Bish, I love that you have my back but, dude, enough, he’s my brother whether I like it or not.”

  One hand sinks to my side, but I can’t let go of him. My fingers tighten around his shirt; he's not getting away that easy.

  He swallows.

  “You better start talking, fucker.”

  Brantley eyes Ethan over my shoulder. Pain is etched in his eyes, but still I can’t let go.

  “I’m sorry, I never meant to cause you grief, little brother. I had to go in deep, and getting out was harder than I thought.”

  He tips his head back, his skin is covered in blood. It brings a smirk to my face.

  “Why?”

  Ethan asks one simple question.

  For whatever reason he did it for, Brantley had his reasons, and the pain is evident. Even if it was fucking messed up.

  “I needed you to believe I was dead, I needed to be someone else.”

  Ethan’s intake of breath is loud. I look over at him. Fuck Brantley and this conversation.

  “I’m not following?” Ethan’s voice betrays him; it cracks at the end, just long enough to hear the agony in his voice.

  I slam Brantley back against the wall. He whines.

  I pull him toward my face.

  “Stop with the fucking riddles and tell him what he deserves to fucking hear.”

  I’m barely holding my temper in check, but for Ethan, I won’t kill Brantley. Not yet anyway.

  “Lorenzo came to me when I was a kid, told me what our future entailed. I didn’t want that for you, I want you to have a normal life, not be some fucking mob boss.” He inhales and winces.

  “You’re my little brother, Ethan, it’s my duty to watch out for you, to protect you.”

  I snort, unable to help the sound escaping.

  He glares at me but continues.

  “I know I failed, fucking terribly, but I promise I wasn't the one to drug you. I told the fucker he gave you too much. Lorenzo wanted you dead. I tried to stop it.

  “But if I didn’t go along with his fucked-up plan and make it seem like I was in, and really fucking in, he would kill her.”

  I look over at Ethan, and we both shrug.

  I don’t give a fuck what his reasons are you don’t try and kill your brother and then make him believe you didn’t care.

  “She’s all I have, okay.”

  Brantley has tears in his eyes, actual fucking tears.

  The fucker is crying.

  “What’s with the sob fest?” I demand.

  “When I was twenty, I met a girl. We ended up drunk, and next thing I know, she comes back nine months later and drops a baby at my feet, tells me it's mine and leaves, just walks off like this little angel meant nothing to her.”

  Holy fucking shit!

  “Wait?” Ethan says behind me. He comes right up to Brantley now, making me finally drop my fist.

  “You have a daughter?”

  He nods, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his wallet. Ethan snatches it, and sure enough, inside is a photo of a little girl about eight years old.

  “She lives with a woman who takes care of her. I only see her when I can. She knows I do dangerous stuff, that I have to keep her safe.” He runs his hand over his face, and a tear slides down his cheek.

  “Lorenzo threatened her and said if I didn’t help him convince you to join us or help kill you after, he would torture her and burn her alive.”

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  “Where is she now?”

  “She lives in England with Dana, her nanny. I’m so sorry, Ethan, I never wanted to drag you into this bullshit, but it all seemed so fucking amazing at twelve to get out of that shithole we called a home.

  “He wanted to bring you, too, but I said you needed to live a normal life. He said he’d give you until you turned twenty-one then you belonged to him.”

  He chuckles slightly but he quickly covers it up.

&
nbsp; “But, of course, I wasn’t planning on having my little angel; she was leverage he could use against me.”

  “Brant, what the fuck, dude? Why the hell not just come clean years ago? You know how many times I wished you were still alive, how many times I needed my big brother to come save me?”

  Ethan grabs his hair and tugs. His eyes glisten.

  “I know,” Brantley cries.

  “I hated you for leaving me, I hated you for what you put me through, but I hated you more for lying to me.”

  Ethan wipes his hand over his face, and I can tell he’s torn. Does he believe this dickhole? Or will he walk away?

  He has no loyalty to Brantley, he owes him nothing. I can simply call up Jacob and have him sort this shit now. Jacob is good for a reason; he’s the fucking boogeyman.

  No one gets past him, not alive anyway.

  “I’m sorry, Ethan, I didn’t know what else to do. Ayra is everything to me, I will die keeping her safe.”

  Ethan nods.

  “Bishop.” He touches my arm, asking me to let Brantley go. I hadn’t realized I had fisted his shirt again.

  As much as I hate him for what he put Ethan through, I can be the bigger man. My hands uncoil from Brantley’s shirt, and I flex my fingers to bring circulation back into them.

  “He may have forgiven you, but don’t believe for one second I won’t put a bullet between your eyes to protect him.”

  Brantley nods at my warning.

  “What can we do to help?” Ethan grabs Brantley’s arm.

  Brantley looks defeated.

  “Fuck, I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Okay, so we need a plan?” I grit my teeth, hating that I have to work with Ethan’s brother.

  “I just need her safe.”

  I pull out my phone. There is only one way his daughter will be safe. Time to make that call.

  The monster in me is surfacing, and it’s getting harder to contain.

  Who I really am?

  Bishop Stanton is nothing compared to the real me. Bishop Demetrius is a monster I can no longer control. Watch out world, the real me is finally here.

  I haven't heard from Bishop. He’s been quiet these last few days.

  It pains me to think he’s pushing away from me. I only have a little over a month before I’m due to marry Eric.

  I haven’t told Bishop any of it. Not that I expect him to do anything. I mean, would he object to the wedding?

  The thought of Eric being able to claim me in a way that disgust me makes my blood coil and vomit stain my throat.

  I want Bishop to swoop in and save me like he always does, but I know no matter what I do, no matter where I run, I’ll be Eric's wife, so there’s no stopping that.

  Tears prick my eyes at the thought of Eric touching me again.

  I throw my phone on the couch and head for a shower. My mind is off with Bishop, but I can’t sit around all night hanging by my phone waiting for an answer.

  By the time I finish drying my hair, I feel a little fresher and lighter.

  I check my phone, but it’s blank.

  I sigh, knowing Bishop owes me nothing. I'm not his girlfriend. He doesn't have to tell me what happened, even if my heart is sinking at the thought that something bad is about to go down and Bishop is caught in the middle.

  Why can’t life be easy?

  My phone beeps. I screw my face at the name on the screen.

  Eric: Princess, give in, we both know you’ll be my wife in due time, why not just make it official now?

  Me: Never.

  Eric: Sweetheart, come on. All you have to do is say yes.

  Me: Nothing will ever make me say yes to you, Eric. Nothing!

  Eric: Really, nothing?

  Me: I will die before I take you as my husband. Go to hell, asshole.

  Eric: Oh, princess, I’m already there, and trust me, I plan on staying here, getting cozy while my wife treats me like her fucking king.

  I almost threw up. I will never be his wife.

  Eric: Change your mind, Callie. Marry me.

  Me: No, Eric. I will never marry you.

  Eric: Shame really. We’d be so good together, princess.

  Gah, that name has my stomach in knots thinking about how it sounds coming from his lips.

  Eric: I think you’ll reconsider, sweetheart?

  Me: Not in this lifetime or even the next hundred.

  Eric. Not even for your little fuck buddy, Bishop Demetrius?

  What?

  Eric: Oops, did I say too much?

  Me: What are you talking about, that’s not his name?

  Eric: Oh, sweetheart, you’re more naive than I thought. Baby Demetrius has a secret bigger than you do.

  Demetrius, that name sounds familiar, like I’ve heard it before?

  I swallow, trying to rack my brain on why it sounds so familiar.

  My face falls when it finally hits me.

  Eric: Figured it out yet, sweetheart?

  My mouth goes dry, and my heart beats so fast my chest hurts. It can’t be, it just can’t.

  “No.” My tears fall as my legs give out from under me. I crumble to my knees in a heap. covering my mouth, trying to keep vomit from spilling to the floor.

  I can't... I rush up, nearly tripping over my own feet, just making it in time to empty the contents of my stomach.

  I knew Bishop had a past. But I would never have believed his past included the Mafia.

  Bishop isn’t all he says he is.

  He’s the son of one of the most feared men in Lincoln City.

  His father is one of the evilest men I have ever heard of. According to rumors, he killed his own wife.

  Bishop is the heir to his throne. Bishop will be the new Mafia king of Lincoln City.

  I’ve put myself right in the middle. What will Bishop do when he finds out I know his secret?

  I’ve left one hell to fall right into another.

  How do I survive?

  I slam the door behind me when I walk into his apartment. The sound echoes throughout. It gives me a gust of bravery as I prepare for my showdown with Bishop. How dare he lie to me with something that huge. My heels click on the hardwood floor, I almost slip with the anger that's coursing through my veins.

  I throw my purse down on the chair. Bishop stands there in only a towel, just coming out of the shower. Water drips down his hot-as-fuck torso, his abs glistening. His hair hangs just right over his eyes, giving him that sexy-as-fuck look.

  “By all means, baby, come in.”

  His cockiness irks me. I click my tongue, rolling my eyes at him.

  “Go, fuck yourself, Bishop.”

  “I'll gladly fuck you, brat, I've been dying to eat that pussy again.”

  I storm toward him. My anger simmers, and it takes everything in me not to slap him across the face for being such an ass.

  Bishop holds his stance as I stop in front of him. He stares down at me at the same time I glare up at him. His jaw twitches, and my nipples pebble under my bra.

  Why is that hot as all hell?

  “You don't get to be a smart-ass, not right now.”

  Tears threaten to fall, and I try my hardest to stop them.

  “Do enlighten me, brat?”

  He smirks, his tongue licking across his lips. My eyes follow the movement. It doesn't go unnoticed by the annoying Adonis standing in front of me. The chuckle that leaves his stupid hot mouth has me clenching my thighs together. God, I want to kiss him.

  No, you're mad at him.

  Bishop's fingers travel down over my nipple with enough pressure to pull a shiver from me.

  Smack his hand off, Callie, don't let him use his super fuck power.

  He continues the slow torture as his fingers skim over my stomach and hip. I bite my lip, desperate to hold in the moan begging to be unleashed.

  Damn him and his talented fingers.

  “Mmmhh.” His eyes darken; he sees how he's affecting me.

  I take in a breat
h as his fingers skim over my soaked covered panties. The wetness that drips from me has me biting down on the inside of my cheek.

  Damn him and his touch.