Last Kiss

by Laurelin Paige

  He took a step closer. “Are you entirely certain that Joe can take care of you? I don’t see him around. In fact,” he scanned the empty hallway, “I don’t see anyone right now. Do you?”

  My palms went clammy and my throat, dry. We were utterly alone, I realized, and he was standing close. So close that I wasn’t sure I could get a scream out before he managed to clamp a hand over my mouth. And, besides, as the stranger unbuttoned the coat of his jacket, I could see the butt of a handgun at his waist.

  I had no choice but to cooperate.

  With my heart thudding in my chest, I stood up straighter, hoping to seem braver than I felt. “What do you want from me?”

  My skin itched as his eyes swept crudely down my body. “How kind of you to ask.” His cruel smile made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. “Unfortunately, it’s not what I want that’s important. It’s what my father wants. And, at the moment, he’d like to talk to you.”

  “Who’s your father?” I asked, studying his features. His expression was so familiar, that all of a sudden it clicked. I had seen him before, once. In the middle of the night. During an online poker game Reeve had been playing with his cousins.

  So, though my heart skipped a beat and I suddenly felt drenched with sweat, I wasn’t surprised when the man delivered his father’s name. “Michelis Vilanakis.”

  CHAPTER 14

  With the stranger’s hand gripped tightly around my upper arm, he led me farther down the hall to a service elevator. There, he let me go to swipe a card across the access reader then punched the call button.

  I studied him as we waited for the doors to open. “You’re Reeve’s cousin. Petros, right? Online poker.”

  “Good memory. Tell him he owes me a chance to win my money back sometime soon. He’s been too busy as of late to join any of our games.” His cordial temperament was both impressive and chilling. It was a trait that reminded me of the stereotypical mob men I’d seen on television. But there were things that were not at all what I’d have expected from a man with Mafia ties. For one thing, his scruffy face and coiffed hair made him look like an art student or grunge model rather than a hoodlum. And his boyish mannerisms made him seem innocent, and with Vilanakis as a father, I was sure he was anything but.

  “I’ll give him the memo.” I laced my hands together in an attempt to stop their shaking while I tried to assess the level of danger I was in. With his tough guy demeanor and steely confidence, Petros would have been formidable even without a gun. But he interacted regularly with Reeve online, and he knew we were in a relationship. Surely he wouldn’t hurt me. Out of respect, like Reeve had said.

  Of course, that had been before someone – possibly even Petros – had snuck onto the ranch and killed a dog in order to leave a very pointed message.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked when the elevator doors opened and Petros gestured for me to go inside.

  “My father’s room is on the penthouse floor,” he said simply.

  I swallowed as I stepped in, glancing up to note the security camera in the corner, wondering what chance I’d have if I tried to signal for help or hit the emergency button.

  But Petros was too close behind me for me to try anything. He pushed the button for the top floor then leaned against the elevator wall and cocked his head at me. “You don’t need to look so terrified,” he said with a sneer.

  “Right. Because I’m completely safe and I can expect to walk away shortly without a hair touched on my head.”

  He chuckled. “Well. I didn’t say that. But I’ll tell you this.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a heavy whisper. “The more scared you look, the more my father likes it.”

  My breathing grew shallow and I jumped as the elevator announced our floor. Again Petros laughed then nudged me out the door, following close behind. My eyes darted back and forth as we walked down the hallway, hoping to find a route of escape or a hotel maid or a guest who could help me. But there was no one, and soon we had stopped in front of a pair of double doors.

  Petros raised his hand to knock, but I stopped him. “Joe is just downstairs. He’ll be worried when I don’t return. He’ll call Reeve and he won’t be happy if anything happens to me.”

  “I’m sure that’s true, Blondie. But, in case you haven’t figured this out, my father doesn’t give a flying fuck about anyone’s happiness but his own.” His words settled heavily over me as he rapped on the door in a peculiar little rhythm that I suspected was some sort of code. I also suspected it would be changed to something new the minute I left.

  After a few seconds, the doors opened, and a petite, Middle Eastern–looking woman in a simple housedress stepped aside to let us in. She didn’t say anything in greeting, didn’t meet my eyes, and kept her head bowed as we walked in, and even before I caught the tip of the V tattoo on her collarbone, I wondered if she was there of her own free will.

  The suite entrance opened into a luxurious grand room with a stone fireplace and a private balcony. To the left was a dining room large enough to seat ten. Beyond that, the circular-shaped kitchen was probably double the size of my own. In fact, the whole unit was probably double the size of my house in Los Angeles. At least that. To the right was a hallway that, I guessed, led to the bedrooms.

  As I turned back toward my hosts, my eye caught on the stack of magazines and newspapers piled on the coffee table. Or, rather, on one magazine in particular – Us Weekly, an entertainment periodical that seemed blatantly out of place among the likes of the Wall Street Journal, Forbes, and Business Insider. I nudged aside the New Yorker that lay partially on top of it, and, there, on the cover, was a familiar face – Chris Blakely.

  My heart sank as I read the accompanying headline: CHRIS TELLS ALL. The actor spills about his upcoming nuptials, his struggle with addiction, and his theory behind Missy Mataya’s death that includes cover-ups, government bribes, and the Greek mob.

  Goddammit, Chris, I muttered quietly. Despite running his mouth, I’d held out hope that he’d remained under Vilanakis’s radar. Apparently not.

  “Please, have a seat,” the woman said in a thick accent, interrupting my fretting. I looked up as she swept her hand out toward the sofa and the oversized chair at its side. With her arm held out, I could see a trail of yellowed bruises running along her skin as well as a series of circular burns – from a cigar, maybe. If I hadn’t been sure she was abused before, I was now.

  My stomach churned. Ignoring her offer to sit, I bent to meet her gaze. “I’m Emily. And you are…?”

  The woman’s eyes grew wide then flew from mine to Petros’s, as if afraid she’d be punished because I’d addressed her.

  Turned out she wasn’t wrong.

  He backhanded across her hard across the face. “Did I give you permission to look at me?”

  Rage and fear flared inside me, and I had to count silently to ten to calm myself before I did something else stupid, like, try to defend her.

  The girl mumbled an apology and Petros responded with something in Greek, which I figured was a directive of some sort since she left the room then.

  “Maya’s a sweet girl,” Petros said when she’d left. “Gives the best head too.”

  “Does she now? Hopefully next time, she’ll bite your dick off.” I sounded sure of myself, which was surprising. I prayed he couldn’t see the sweat forming on my brow, couldn’t hear the rapid firing of my pulse.

  “Now that’s uncalled for,” he tsked. “It’s her duty to suck me off, and she’s never complained.”

  I blew out a stream of hot air and told myself to drop it.

  But I was too pissed and worked up to be self-controlled. “Her duty, why? Because she owes you? What – did you take care of her ex-husband or pay for her mother’s surgery or feed her drug habit and then tell her she couldn’t leave until she paid you back?”

  “Something like that.”

  I rolled my eyes, which he noticed.

  “You really want to know about Maya?” Hi
s tone was sharp. “Then I’ll tell you. Her father owed my family money. When we came to collect, he couldn’t pay. He gave us Maya instead.”

  “Jesus,” I whispered under my breath.

  “So you see, she’s ours.” He circled around me as he talked, slowly, like a vulture. “She does what we want, when we want it. If I want her to make me a pot roast, she’ll make me a pot roast. If I want her to answer the door, she answers the door. If I want to fuck her in the throat, then she’ll swallow every goddamn drop.”

  “That’s horrible. You’re horrible, vile people.” I couldn’t bear to think of Amber in this situation, and yet it was the main thing on my mind.

  “Sure. Whatever. Call names. I’m just telling you how it is so you won’t be surprised when my father decides you’re in his debt as well.”

  I bit back my gasp. “You’re just trying to scare me.”

  He smirked. “Maybe so. Doesn’t mean I don’t also mean it.”

  “Petros,” a thick masculine voice snapped from behind me followed by a string of conversation in Greek.

  I turned to find a broad-shouldered middle-aged man had entered the room. I’d seen Michelis in pictures so I recognized him easily, but in person, he was both more formidable and more attractive than photos portrayed him. While his slicked-back hair was graying at the temples and his eyes were creased with age, he appeared to be in excellent physical condition. He was handsome, and I may have even thought he was sexy if I didn’t know so much about him. If I didn’t know what he was capable of. If I didn’t know his hands could hurt and punish and break down.

  It struck me – those were the types of men I was normally drawn to. Had I finally found a man who was a hard limit? Or was every man a hard limit if he wasn’t Reeve?

  “Emily Wayborn,” Michelis exclaimed, crossing to me. When he reached me, he put his hands on my upper arms and greeted me in the European style with a kiss to each cheek.

  Horror and adrenaline slid down my spine, automatically causing me to straighten my posture. I should have been prepared for that, and I hadn’t been. But more concerning was how unprepared I was for all of it.

  “Hello,” I said smoothly, recovering as much poise as possible.

  His lip curled up, and the gleam in his eye said he’d seen every beat of my reaction to him – my assessment, my apprehension, my regrouping. He’d seen it, he’d remember it. He’d use it if he could.

  Despite all that, he was polite and hospitable. “I’ve heard so much about you, Emily – may I call you that?” He didn’t wait for my response. “It feels like I already know you.”

  My skin prickled, and I had to scold myself to keep composed. He doesn’t know me. It’s his way of manipulating the situation, making me feel both welcome and uncomfortable all at once. I’d seen this trick played before. I wouldn’t let it get to me.

  “I wish I could say the same. I feel, however, like we’re perfect strangers.” I hoped it was a good move, dismissing any knowledge of him as if he were insignificant.

  His smile fell slightly. “Well, we shall get to know one another now. For me, it’s an honor to finally meet the face behind the name. Or should I say, behind the voice.”

  “I’ve heard that one before, I’m afraid.” I sighed. As if I were bored.

  “I’m sure you have.” He lost the grin altogether now. “I wasn’t going for originality. I was going for an icebreaker. Can Petros get you anything before he leaves? Coffee? A glass of wine?”

  “Uh, no.” At the last minute, I added, “Thank you.”

  “Water, perhaps?”

  His persistence didn’t necessarily mean he had ill intentions. He could simply have been attempting to put me at ease.

  Still, I was smart about bad men. “I’m not going to accept anything you have to offer, thank you, Mr. Vilanakis.”

  “Call me Micha, please.” With a nod of his head, he dismissed Petros, who disappeared down the hall.

  And now we were alone.

  “Have a seat, Ms. Wayborn. Make yourself at home.” He thrust his hands in his pockets, relaxed but in command. He reminded me of a lion lying in the sun, his eyes half closed, comfortable as king. If a mouse tried to sneak past him, all he’d have to do was stretch out his paw, and he’d catch the sucker in its tracks.

  All I had to do, then, was watch out for that paw. Easy enough.

  I circled the coffee table, putting space between us, casual despite the cocktail of adrenaline and foreboding that hummed in my blood. Once I’d distanced myself as well as I could, I spun to face him. “Why am I here?”

  “Ah, right to the heart of things. No beating around the bush.” He’d beat enough around the bush for me, it seemed.

  “That isn’t an answer to my question.”

  “No, it’s not. I’ll get there momentarily. Please. Sit.”

  I remained on my feet. “My friend is downstairs. I’m sure he’s looking for me already. Reeve will come looking for me as well.”

  “Only time for a short chat today, then. What a pity.”

  It was naïve to assume that a short chat meant he intended to let me go. But I clung to that notion all the same. He’d intimidate me, he’d bully me. But he’d let me walk away. He had to.

  Michelis gestured at the armchair, wanting to put me at ease, I was sure. Wanted me to sit, unwind. Let him call the shots.

  At another time, I might have played it that way.

  With Michelis – I would never use the nickname Amber used – I didn’t have the time or the patience. I would not sit. I would not unwind. He would not call the shots.

  “Why am I here?” My tone was even but insistent.

  “I wanted to meet you.” He could have had a hundred different motives, none of them were clear.

  I guessed at the most obvious. “Are you going to slip me your number and let me know you’re available after I’m done with Reeve?”

  “Amber’s told you how we met. How dear of her.” Sugar drenched his words, so much so that they became insincere. If he’d felt any fondness for her, it hadn’t run deep. His eyes narrowed as he openly perused my body like a man checking out a horse. “She was an exception, though. I don’t believe I’ll make a habit of indulging in my nephew’s leftovers.”

  “Then we’re mutually not attracted to each other,” I said brazenly. “That’s perfect.” As long as I was being bold… “Tell me something – why Amber?”

  He tilted his head as if considering his answer, though I was sure he had a formulated answer at the ready for this as well. “We had a lot in common,” he said carefully. “We’d both been betrayed by the same man.”

  “Reeve.” I couldn’t decide if he really believed that or if it were just the story he wanted me to believe.

  “Beyond that, I found her entertaining.”

  I wrapped my arms around myself, hoping he didn’t notice my shudder, “You mean you found it entertaining to abuse and demean her?”

  Michelis frowned. “As her friend, I’m sure you well know Amber is a passionate woman. I’m also a passionate man. Perhaps we sometimes got carried away.”

  “‘We got carried away’?” I practically laughed, a sound that was based as much in nervousness as scorn. “I don’t see you nursing any injuries.”

  “Now, Emily. Please. I know you aren’t a woman who believes that all wounds can be seen by the eye. Let’s not pretend that you are.” His attempt at sympathy failed.

  He did, however, have me unsettled. He’d been in my presence for all of five minutes, and I’d already learned that he was a master at communicating in dual meanings. It was distressing that he could do it so easily and terrifying how he managed to see inside me so clearly. How did he know that I was someone who understood both physical and emotional abuse well enough to react to the hint of unseen scars?

  Or maybe he didn’t know. Yes, that was more likely. He was spouting vague lines that anyone could hear and hold on to like a well-written horoscope, applicable to thousands of people in an i
ntimate way.

  Well, fuck him.

  “Let Amber go,” I said, tired of his bullshit beating around the bush. “She might have wanted you once, but she doesn’t anymore.”

  “She’s back with Reeve now? I’m surprised that you support this since you’d rather be with Reeve yourself.”

  Even if he did have spies on the ranch, he couldn’t know that. He was guessing.

  “Wherever you got that, you should probably find a more reliable source.” I kept my response smug – not too defensive. Not at all truthful.

  But Michelis’s brows rose as though he’d hit a jackpot. “My source is you, my dear Emily. You’re very easy to read, you know.”

  He’s trying to get to you. Don’t let him. “Actually, no one has ever said that about me before.”

  “Then no one you’ve ever met has been very observant.”

  I opened my mouth and shut it again. As solidly as I understood that he was feeling around for the truth, his accuracy was startling.

  But I’d also never let myself be surrounded by anyone who might see the real me. I was drawn to men who didn’t care to find out anything beyond my willingness to submit. Even Amber had only seen as much as she’d wanted. Reeve had been the first person to peel away my thick skin and study the layers underneath.

  Had he left me vulnerable? Could Michelis really see what he claimed he saw?

  My hesitation gave too much away, and he slid into the opening I’d left him. “Seriously, tell me, Emily. I’m intrigued. How are things working out with the three of you?”

  Don’t answer. Don’t give anything away.

  “Are you girls sharing him equally? Or does he have a favorite?”

  I shook my head ever so slightly – not an answer, but a plea for him to stop hedging, stop closing me in.

  “It’s you, isn’t it? I bet that makes Amber crazy.”

  “Don’t talk about us like you understand anything.” But my breathing was heavy and my voice frail.