Sleight of Hand

by BJ Bentley

  “Mr. Magnus. Welcome back. Can I get you anything?”

  I looked up to see a leggy blonde addressing Aleksander and idly wondered if that particular shade of blonde was as fake as the tits that stretched her flight attendant uniform. The catty thought shocked me because I normally wasn’t one of those girls. I didn’t tear other women down to make myself feel good. But, Jesus Christ, if the bitch didn’t stop eye fucking my man, I was going to throw down.

  “No. Thank you.” Aleksander replied without looking up. “Bertie? Do you need anything?”

  I didn’t answer right away as I was busy sizing her up. She barely even looked at me, since she was too busy ogling Aleksander. Finally, I said, “Actually,” I peered at her name tag, “Anna, I would very much appreciate it if you stopped eye fucking my husband.” I gave her my sweetest smile. “Could you do that for me?”

  Anna looked positively stunned. “H-husband?”

  “Yep!” I said with exaggerated cheer and held up my left hand.

  Anna cleared her throat. “My apologies, Mrs. Magnus.” She nodded and backed away.

  I turned my gaze to Aleksander, who remained suspiciously quiet and still. “You fucked her, didn’t you?”

  “No, Roberta, I did not fuck her.” He was looking me in the eye when he spoke, but he also began to fidget slightly, and that was not a typical trait of Aleksander Magnus.

  “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, husband?” I narrowed my gaze, and he narrowed his right back.

  “I did not fuck her,” he repeated. Curious how he put the emphasis on the word ‘fuck.’

  “Did you do other things with her?” I tried to inject my voice with nothing other than casual curiosity, but I wasn’t sure I succeeded. I’ll be damned if he didn’t start to squirm just a little. I laughed humorlessly. “Of course, you did.”

  “Sparrow-”

  “Don’t you sparrow me.” I shook my head. I didn’t want to fight with him. “I’m going to lie down.” I meandered to the back of the plane to the small bedroom and flung myself down on the surprisingly soft mattress.

  I kicked my flip-flops off, letting them land wherever they may, and stared at the ceiling. Aleksander and I had never once defined our relationship before we were married. I mean, yeah, he said I was ‘his,’ but what did that really mean? Was that a two-way street? I knew I was monogamous, but was he? The click of the door shutting brought my head up off the pillow.

  I watched silently as Aleksander put a knee to the foot of the bed and crawled toward me to stretch his hard body out partially on top of me. He brought his hand to my face, forcing me to meet his eyes.

  “I did not fuck her. I let her blow me once. It was after you came to live with me but before you were mine.”

  I studied his face and saw the truth. “Okay.”

  His lips quirked. “Okay.” He kissed me wet and deep, and when he was done, he said. “Besides, if it’s any consolation, I had to pretend it was you in order to get off.”

  “Shut up!” I slapped his chest. “You did not!” I said, laughing.

  “True story,” he insisted, raising his hand in innocence.

  “Well, then I guess I can’t really be mad, can I?”

  “Nope. Absolutely not,” he said, looking very serious. “In fact,” he said, rolling over onto his back, “you should apologize.”

  “Excuse me?” I couldn’t stop my wobbly smile.

  “Yep. I think you should prove my point for me.” He lifted his arms and tucked his hands behind his head. “Give me what she couldn’t.”

  And even though he laid there looking like a smug bastard, I set about to do just that. When he came, I was sure the cockpit heard him shout my name.

  Stepping off the plane, I felt like I’d entered heaven. I still didn’t know where we were, but just being able to breathe the fresh air and stretch was enough for me at that moment. Thirteen hours is a long time to be cooped up, even if Aleksander came up with creative ways to keep me occupied. A car and driver met us as we disembarked to drive us to our hotel. As our car circled the airport, I saw the giant lettering on the side of the building: BARCELONA.

  I squealed my excitement and threw my arms around Aleksander’s neck, planting a kiss on his beard roughened cheek. “Barcelona! I’m so happy I could cry!”

  Aleksander chuckled at my exuberance. “No tears, sweetheart. Happy or otherwise.”

  I gave him another kiss, this time on the mouth, before moving back into my seat. It was all I could do to refrain from clapping like a giddy child. Oh my, God, where did I want to go first? There were so many things I wanted to do and see, so much food to eat and sangria to drink. Where was I going to start?

  “Here, hang on to this,” Aleksander said as he handed me a passport. I flipped it open to see my face and name staring back at me. A name, I might add, I only acquired yesterday. Also, since when did I have a passport?

  “Um, mister, where did I get a passport?”

  “I had it done a couple of days ago.”

  “Uh huh. And when you say you ‘had it done,’ what does that mean, exactly?”

  “It means I had the best forger money can buy make it.” He tipped his head. “You know what I do for a living, Bertie. You know that not everything I do is legal. You also know I have the means to make things happen.” He studied me, waiting for a reaction.

  “Yeah, I do know all of those things.”

  “So, is there a problem with your passport?” What he was really asking was if I had a problem with his methods.

  I smiled. “Of course not, husband.”

  “Good girl,” he murmured, and damn it if that didn’t make me horny.

  The thirty minute ride to the hotel flew by as I gazed out the tinted windows, trying to take it all in. Our hotel was one of those odd-shaped, ultra modern designs that sat directly on the beach, and our suite was somehow modern yet plush. It was, of course, spacious, with floor to ceiling windows that gave us an unobstructed view of the Mediterranean. It seemed to be a mostly open floor plan, with only a partition between the bed and bath, so each room had at least a partial view of the other. There was also only a partial wall between the bedroom and living room/kitchenette area as well.

  Wandering into the bedroom, I tested the mattress out on the round bed. I thought the only places that had round beds were those pay-by-the-hour motels. This was definitely not that. This place was beyond any extravagance I had experienced before, and that was saying something considering that I lived in Sin City. Oh, and with a multi-millionaire, no less.

  Aleksander entered the bedroom area with our bags in tow. “Do you know what you want to do first?”

  “Eat,” I said, definitively.

  “Excellent choice-”

  “No! Wait. Shower first, then eat.” I nodded.

  “Okay, even better choice.” He smirked and began stripping.

  I had a feeling this was going to go more like shower, sex, shower, and then he was going to feed me. I found that I was okay with that.

  Chapter 24

  Bertie

  Showered, fucked, showered, and dressed, we headed out in search of breakfast and adventure. Aleksander had the driver drop us off in the city center, so we could explore on our own. I marveled at the architecture, but essentially ignored the street vendors, which were essentially the same people selling the same wares in any major city. The area was chock full of tourists, and if I were still in a position where I needed to steal to survive, this would be primo hunting ground. Instead, I let my husband feed me and buy me pretty much anything that caught my eye. It wasn’t long before my bag was loaded down with two large boxes of turrón (one for me and one for Elaina), a couple pieces of eclectic, handmade jewelry, and a brightly painted decorative ceramic bowl.

  We strolled along slowly, admiring the work of some of the street artists, when one of the pieces caught my eye. It was a rendering of Aphrodite gazing upon two lovers in a meadow. It was both romantic and whimsical.

 
Aleksander rested his chin on the top of my head. “Have you ever wondered why I started calling you ‘sparrow?’”

  “I assumed it was because of my name sounding like ‘birdie,’” I responded, putting extra emphasis on the ‘d.’

  “Hm. Partly. But I could have chosen any bird.”

  “Okay, why then?”

  “Sparrows are said to be sacred to Aphrodite.”

  My brow shot up in surprise. “Really?”

  “Hm. Yes, they’re believed to symbolize lust,” he murmured in my ear, causing a shiver to roll through me.

  “Perv,” I accused.

  When it was time for lunch, Aleksander wanted to eat at some fancy five-star restaurant, but I wanted to sit outside a small café we’d stumbled upon, so I could people watch. He gave in but informed me that I’d be paying for it later. I hid my smile as I imagined what kind of payment he might demand. We settled into our table, but instead of sitting across from me, Aleksander chose the chair to my left. Taking in the sights and sounds of the city, I watched street performers execute a dance routine and inhaled the spicy aroma of Spanish cuisine wafting from the café. Feeling dreamy, I almost pinched myself again, but Aleksander’s hand on my thigh reminded me that this was indeed my new reality.

  “These legs have been driving me insane all day,” he murmured in my ear. His fingers danced up my thigh, under the material of my jersey skirt, and dangerously close to my core. When I squeezed my thighs together, he gave me a warning. “Ah-ah, sweetheart. Relax those thighs. Let me touch what’s mine.” I let my legs fall lax as he took immediate advantage of the situation. He fingered the edge of my panties at my hip before slipping inside the crotch. My breathing quickened as I turned toward him. We weren’t exactly shielded from prying eyes since we were sitting out in the open and the little bistro table did not have a tablecloth. I fought against rocking my hips in search of a firmer touch. “Lunch is coming,” he whispered but refused to remove his hand from my panties.

  Sure enough, a moment later, we had several platters in front of us, and I was frantically trying to smooth my skirt down in an effort to shield the bit of forbidden fun happening in my lap. Aleksander used his free hand to scoop small portions of each food offering onto my plate while, at the same time, his other hand wreaked havoc on my pussy. “When you come, then you can eat,” he informed me.

  Gripping my head in my hand and steadying myself by placing my elbow on the table, I whimpered. I couldn’t help it. “Aleks…”

  “Be my good girl, sparrow,” he crooned, and that was all it took. Well, that and the insistent pressure circling my clit. I shuddered my release and bit back my moan, slapping a Kung-Fu grip on Aleksander’s arm. “Well done, sweetheart,” he said as he licked his finger clean. “You can eat now.” He winked at me when I snorted.

  After lunch we explored a bit more before heading back to the hotel for a siesta. When I woke up, Aleksander was standing on the balcony, gazing out over the ocean, and talking to someone on the phone. Coming up behind him, I wrapped my arms around his waist and waited for him to finish his call.

  “You’re fluent in Spanish?” I asked. I had heard him speak it a little as we were exploring that morning, but it was mostly one word answers as he purchased my items from shop owners and ordered our lunch.

  “I speak several languages,” he answered as he turned in my arms to face me. “I have to go out for a little while. I need you to stay here. Don’t leave the suite.”

  I jerked my head back. “What? Why?”

  “I have some business to attend to. It’s unfortunate, but it has to be dealt with, and I’d rather do it now than have to make a return trip later on.”

  I didn’t do a damn thing to disguise my disappointment. “Alright, then,” I shrugged. “I’ll stay here. Watch a movie or something. Eat my weight in nougat. Whatever.”

  His arms tightened around me. “You’re adorable when you pout,” he smirked.

  I pressed my lips together in annoyance, which only made his smirk transform into a panty-melting grin. “Stop being handsome. It’s annoying.”

  He chuckled and nipped at my nose with his teeth. “Lock the door when I leave.” He moved around me to re-enter the suite.

  “Am I in some sort of danger? Something you’re not telling me?”

  “Just a precaution.” He shrugged. “I have business here, so it stands to reason that I have enemies here as well.”

  I studied him for a moment, looking for a lie.

  He exhaled loudly. “I just want you safe, Roberta.”

  I cast my eyes to the floor. I shouldn’t be looking for reasons to pick a fight or be so untrusting. “I know, Aleks.”

  “Come here. Kiss me before I leave.”

  Chapter 25

  Aleksander

  I wasn’t lying when I told her I had enemies in this city. I may have downplayed the danger quotient a bit, but when she had told me that Barcelona was her dream destination, I wanted nothing more than to make that dream come true for her. Bringing her here so soon after taking over Reyes’s gun running operation was stupid. I should have waited. I only hoped she did as she said and stayed in the suite with the door locked.

  My driver dropped me off at the address I’d provided him with. It was the same warehouse where I’d met Reyes for the last time. My contact had wanted to meet with me concerning some apparent unrest coming from some competitors. I supposed it was time to make my mark on the operation, so others wouldn’t be so foolish as to mistake me for anything less than a formidable opponent.

  “Hector,” I greeted the man I’d tasked with getting the whole operation up and running after I’d rested it from Reyes’s control.

  “Mr. Magnus. Thank you for coming.” When I nodded, he continued. “We had heard some talk that the Cabrera family was planning a move, so we set up some extra patrols, and we got lucky. Caught one of their men scouting the warehouse. Thought you might like to talk to him.”

  “He’s still alive?” I asked with mild surprise.

  “Like I said. Thought you might like to talk to him.”

  As we entered the room where the Cabrera man was being held, I understood Hector’s reluctance to shoot first, ask questions later. The little spy was barely a man. Probably around sixteen years old, if I had to guess. “Thank you, Hector.” The kid sat in a metal chair, arms bound behind him and ankles secured to the chair legs. I pulled a second chair around and sat in it backwards. Casually draping my arms over the back of the chair, I studied the boy. “What’s your name?” I addressed him in Spanish.

  No answer. At least not of the verbal variety. Just a clenching of the jaw.

  “My name is Aleksander Magnus. I’m sure you’re aware of who I am.”

  Still no response, although his eyes briefly darted between me and Hector, who stood watch in the corner of the room.

  Addressing Hector, in English, over my shoulder, I said, “I’m surprised the Cabreras would send a boy in here. What do you think they hoped to accomplish?”

  The boy seemed to tense in his chair. Guess he understood English.

  Hector, picking up on my game, replied, “Not sure what damage they think a kid could do.” He shrugged.

  The boy mumbled something.

  “Sorry, what was that?” I asked.

  “I’m not a kid,” he grumbled, his protest barely audible.

  I raised my brow in mock disbelief. “You’re, what, sixteen?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Almost seventeen.”

  “Ahh. Well, nearly a man, then.” This kid was obviously no criminal mastermind, so the question was who sent him? Because sending a kid still wet-behind-the-ears didn’t seem like a play the Cabreras would make.

  “Hector, get me Miguel Cabrera on the phone. I need to speak to him about his… man, here.”

  “Wait!” the kid cried. “Please don’t,” he choked out.

  Kid was starting to look more and more guilty by the second. I had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t here in an
y official capacity. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Just- fuck. Just don’t, okay?”

  “Tell me why,” I demanded.

  “He’s gonna be pissed,” the kid mumbled.

  “You’re trying my patience, kid.”

  “Fuck! He’s my father, alright?!’ he shouted.

  “Hector, as I said, get me Miguel Cabrera on the phone. Let him know we have his son.” With that, I turned on my heel and left the room.

  I had my driver drop me back off at the hotel just before dawn. My entire fucking night was spent in negotiations with the head of the Cabrera family instead of buried balls deep in my wife, and that pissed me off. It took Cabrera too fucking long to see the light and agree to my terms in exchange for the return of his son. My terms being that he wouldn’t make a play for my operation or attempt to fuck with it in any way. In exchange, he got his kid, who was only scoping out my building in a misguided attempt to impress his father, and ten percent of our future quarterly profit to ensure his continued compliance.

  I was filthy, I was hungry, and I was exhausted, so upon entering the suite, I made no bones about my foul mood as I stomped my way to the bathroom and began stripping off my clothes. I turned the water to the hottest setting I could stand and let it burn away the stink of my night. I whirled around at the tender touch at my back.

  “Why are you up?” I silently cursed myself for all but biting her head off.

  “I didn’t really sleep. You were gone a long time,” she said, not accusatory, but more like...concerned.

  “I told you I had business,” I clipped. I couldn’t help myself. My mood was still foul, and I was still hungry and tired.

  She laid her soft hands on my chest and looked me in the eye. She simply said, “Okay,” and sank to her knees. I instantly went hard looking at my wife kneeling before me. I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. I just watched her take me in her mouth and everything I’d seen, said, and done in the past twelve hours melted away.