A flash of movement caught my eye and I spotted her standing across the hall in the dark. A sexy little grin on her face. She gave me a mock salute and walked away.
At the most, this opened a door, at the least, it kept her from snooping through my office. Either way. It wasn’t over.
SEVEN
MERCY
I sat on my bed and stared at the wall. Things changed last night. I’d wanted him before I couldn’t deny that. Now I had a taste, my body hummed with the knowledge of what he could do for me. The sensations he ignited with his teeth and tongue, lips, and fingers. My skin felt alive, my insides too. Damn him for this. I’d no longer be able to look at him and not feel everything he did to me. On me. For me.
The tinkling of cutlery wafted from the other room. Breakfast. I built the courage to go out and face him. And what we did. When I entered the dining room and sat down it was empty. Not that I expected small talk over eggs, but I’d built this moment up in my head for the last hour. Now I sat here, I felt foolish for overthinking it.
My stomach growled and I lifted the lid on the plate and dove in. Then spotted the carafe filled with steaming coffee. Yes. I poured a mug and hugged it to my chest. The liquid burning my tongue comforted me.
“If you look like that with every cup of coffee I’ll have to remember to have some ready at all times.”
His voice hit me like a lightning strike. I went wet, my lungs felt thick, and I glanced up over my mug. God, he looked good, strangely, even more now that I knew what he hid under his clothing.
“Hi,” the greeting felt inadequate.
He sat across from me and lifted the lid off his own plate. I watched him carefully. Hoping. Wishing he’d touch me. Instead, he ate his food, poured his own coffee, and continued to eat.
“Are we going to talk about this?” I asked, when the silence started to eat at me.
He froze mid-fork lift. “Do we need to talk about this?”
I swallowed and sank back in my chair, coffee still in hand. Right, it was sex, and really just oral sex at that. I was overthinking. It meant nothing.
“Stop.” His command rang through the dining room. I locked my eyes to his.
“I can see your mind at work, analyzing, playing this down. We aren’t not talking about this because this isn’t over. When it is, we can discuss it, until then, consider the time spent when I’m not inside you a pause button.”
I finished choking on my last sip of coffee and put down my mug to be on the safe side. We were going to have sex. I knew that it was inevitable. But I could mitigate the damage, if I was smart.
Looking at him now, I realized I wasn’t smart when it came to him. He lit me up in more ways than one. In lust, in anger, in indignation. The man was a walking incitement. Was he this way with everyone? Or was I just lucky?
“I’ll try not to overthink it,” I managed.
He returned to his breakfast and I resumed watching him. So carefully deliberate, he stopped eating and stared at me. “Will you quit it? You’re creeping me out.”
I mumbled an apology and focused on my own food. “Any plans today? Are you going to try and dress me like a stripper again?”
Deadpan without looking up he said, “no. I’d rather you were naked.”
My fork clattered to the porcelain plate and heat spiked in my cheeks. I was a grown woman, I should not be blushing over my scrambled eggs. I tried a different tactic. “Do you do anything else besides dismantle empires, abduct women, throw parties, and plot people’s downfalls?”
“No, that about covers it.”
“Maybe you should get a dog or something.”
He snorted into his coffee. “Find my hobbies distasteful, do you?”
“I’m no judge. Mine include felony activities, and too little sleep.”
“And an over consumption of caffeine,” he reminded me.
“That too.”
We fell into silence and I focused on my food, letting him eat in peace. When he got up and walked out without another word, I thought I missed something. I stared until he disappeared into his office, then a whole other thought popped into my mind, a whirl of memories cascading. My body heated up from the inside. I put down my fork, poured more coffee, and sat back. Should I feel some kind of way right now, about last night, about him walking away? He apparently didn’t.
I took my coffee into my room and sat on the bed, staring at the wall, the same wall I had before.
Was this my life now? I scooted up into the mussed covers and crossed my legs under me to consider. It was part of why I’d succeeded the last twenty years, I’d gotten good at considering every angle.
The sharp clap of a gunshot echoed through the apartment. I froze, and belatedly dove to the floor. My chin skidded against the carpet, my coffee flew everywhere. My ears rang as my heart pounded hard enough against my ribs the rug vibrated below me. Every nerve was on high alert. I waited, mouth open forcing each inhale and exhale out hard.
Then I heard shuffling, a masculine shout, and something heavy hit the floor hard enough it shook. I pushed up from my hands and rushed out to see Will stepping on another man’s throat. A gun lay a few steps away and I surveyed the situation. Had he come for Will or for me?
I skirted the men to get a better look at who he pinned down. As soon as I saw the man’s bruised face I said a loud, “fuck.”
Looking between them, the fury on Taylor’s face and the calm brutal composure on Will’s. I needed to think quickly to keep everyone alive. I caught Taylor’s hand inching toward his thigh.
“Stop,” I shouted. The noise faintly echoed to my bruised ears. They both gaped at me.
I pointed to Will. “You. Get off him. He won’t move.”
He narrowed his eyes, no doubt at my tone, but took a giant step backward. Taylor started to stand. I pointed at his face. “Stay still if you want to walk out of here alive.”
He lowered his head back to the polished hardwood. I looked at Will who stood glaring between us.
Even now, with rage written in his quiet glare, I didn’t fear him. I knew I should. Difficult with the imprint of his fingers on my body still so fresh.
How do I fix this situation? Save Taylor, and convince Will I honored our agreement. I considered the man splayed on the floor. How had he found me? Us? How did he even get up here? I’d been thinking too long, I needed to do something.
I looked up at Will again. “Can he please sit on some furniture while we discuss his fate?”
He flinched at the word ‘we’ and it hit me…he thought I orchestrated this. Something hot and liquid slid through me. Not in a good way. It felt an awful lot like betrayal, which made no sense. Neither of us owed any loyalty to the other.
“Get up, Taylor.” I pointed to the wood chair. “Sit, and don’t make any stupid movements.”
He limbered to his feet keeping his eyes locked to Will until his ass met solid oak.
I sat on the coffee table opposite. “Why are you here?”
He pushed a heavy breath out his nose. “Rescuing you, obviously.”
“And how’s that going for you?”
He rocked like he might surge to his feet. “You can’t stay here. He can’t hold you hostage.”
I glanced behind me, Will took up a post anchored at my shoulders. His hands descended heavily and gripped tight.
I hurried to answer before Will could chime in. “We’ve come to an agreement to work together. At least for now,” I added.
He already thought he owned me. I needed to start laying down better barriers. When his face was between your legs did you want barriers then?
I pushed those thoughts away. “How did you get in here, Taylor?”
He hesitated.
“Answer me,” I snapped.
Like a petulant teenager he sighed. “I snuck in via a service entrance dressed as staff. No one noticed me. I took the stairs, knocked out the lone guard, and ran into him.” He waved at Will.
I didn’t need to look
up to feel the glare he lobbed Taylor over my head. I could feel it in his hands locked on my shoulders. His fingers spread wide claiming the tops of my shoulder blades and collar bones too.
Taylor ground his jaw.
I pointed at his face to make sure he paid attention to me. “Stay here, don’t move.”
Dragging Will away by the hand, I met his eyes. “What do we do here? I didn’t call him. But he’s my friend and one of my most loyal guys. I don’t want to lose him.”
“Are you lovers?”
His question knocked me back a step. Where had…what did…the anger in his eyes was real enough, so I answered. “No. We slept together one time, probably a decade ago. It was a mistake neither of us wanted to repeat.”
Not that is fucking mattered, I wanted to add. But when begging for someone’s life, it was probably best not to antagonize.
I stayed quiet and waited, looking for his face in case he gave me any clues. It didn’t, of course.
After a few agonizing moments, he said, “and what will you pay for this? To keep your friend alive after he broke our original agreement?”
I looked away now, I didn’t want him to see how much Taylor meant to me. Shit, I doubted even Taylor knew how much I cared for him. It didn’t change my answer, regardless. “Anything. Name it.”
Taylor surged to his feet. “No, don’t do this. I’ll take the consequences myself. Don’t give another inch to this bastard.”
Neither Will nor I acknowledged he spoke. “Anything?” he asked.
I wasn’t going to repeat myself so I remained silent.
“Then you. I want you and everything you’ve been holding back from me. Every secret, every lie, every betrayal. And when we are done there, I want to inspect every scar, every birthmark, every freckle, before I lay my ownership in your skin.”
Taylor grabbed something behind me, but my world had narrowed to Will’s words and the off-key heartbeat pounding through every nerve.
I should say no. I should be afraid of him. I should run the first chance I got.
Instead, I nodded. Not even trusting my own voice to stay steady if I spoke my assent about loud.
Will gestured and a couple of hulks in suits took Taylor away. I couldn’t look, sure revulsion and shame would be aimed at me from his eyes.
I couldn’t believe I agreed to this. Now it was done, my brain scanned ways it could be undone, and came up empty, against the wall of desire I’d already built.
Damn Taylor for putting me in this position.
I cleared my throat and dashed toward my room. “I just need a minute,” I called back to no one in particular.
A voice inside screamed: run, take it back. But it was too late. I knew I didn’t really want to. I leaned against my closed bedroom door and considered the downsides. I’d already agreed to give him everything. We were just moving up the timeline apparently.
A knock made me dive away from the door. I cleared my dry throat as quietly as I could. “Yes. Come in.”
He entered in a few strides.
“Here to collect already? I didn’t realize you were so eager.” But the insult felt dead to my own ears.
He didn’t even blink. “No. I have some business to handle. I’ll see you at dinner tonight. We can discuss terms then.”
He walked out calmly without a backward glance. What had I done?
I sold my soul to the devilm and he would make me fucking pay.
EIGHT
EDDY
It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to walk out of her room. Not claim her as mine mine mine from the second she nodded yes.
The priest would be ashamed of me right now, my entire world careening, my body on fire and begging to be let loose.
I stripped out of my jacket and button down, leaving a trail of clothes to my bathroom. The cold tile met my feet as I kicked off my boxer briefs.
I took a long inhale and sat down. The chill jolted me for a second but soon passed. I let it seep into me, visualizing that biting cold merging into my skin, coating me inch by inch. It restored calm and control in its wake. When it reached the top of my head I opened my eyes, able to think around the growing hunger for her inside my gut.
Had I made the right choice bringing here? I thought I’d steeled myself against the memories, the feelings which haunted me. And yet, barely a couple days in her presence and all the carefully crafted sanity had been undone.
I needed her to have a front row seat to my machinations, but would I be able to ruin her once it was over?
I wasn’t as certain as I had been week ago. Before I touched her, and smelled her, and tasted her.
The only thing I could positively assess at the moment was how much I wanted her. Enough to risk it all.
I shoved my hands through my hair and bent forward, stretching my back and arms at the same time.
How did I get to my end goal without ruining my plans, and without denying myself the tiny bit of solace she gifted me with soft sighs and gentle cries?
A question to consider before I put my hands on her body again.
I sat up and cleared my head focusing on the breathing exercises the priest drilled into me for years. The room was shaded in sunset tones when I opened my eyes.
My body ached as I climbed to my feet with a groan. My stomach weighed in with a rumble.
It had been awhile since I lost myself for so long. I’d underestimated Mercy’s effected on me.
The sounds from the other room spurred me into dressed quickly, as did the empty gurgle in my belly.
When I exited my room, I found her sitting on one of the couches adjacent to the dining room.
She locked her eyes on me as I approached. “You didn’t specify dressing,” she said, and gestured at her black yoga pants and t-shirt ensemble. Even dressed down, she exuded elegance. Even in Armani I felt underdressed. “Shall we go in?”
The food had been laid out and I needed to eat before any rash decisions. She preceded me, and sat in the chair she’d come to prefer. I took the chair across, and poured us both a glass of the white wine the chef had placed near my plate.
She dug in with no preamble, and I had to shake myself from watching her.
My own meal: steak, potatoes, broccoli florets paled in comparison to what my mouth watered for with her so close, and so very unbuttoned.
I forced down a few bites. “Is it good?” I asked, watching her plush lips hug the rum of her wine glass.
“Mmm.” And a nod was her reply as she started eating again.
Riveting conversationalist I turned out to be, despite the priest’s training.
I polished off my plate, for once not forcing myself to slow to a more socially acceptable speed. Then I sat back in my chair with my wine glass in hand so I could study her.
It took a few minutes, but finally she glanced up and paused in eating. “What?”
“Did you have dreams, or goals, outside a criminal enterprise?”
I watched my question slide through her mind via the facial expressions she dropped like rain in a storm.
“So we’ve reached the interrogation course. Remind me, does that go with the desert wine or the red?”
I waited. Her default ran toward attitude and sass. She fidgeted a moment and hugged her wine glass before speaking again. “Did you?”
Hoping to buy some good will, I answered her question. “I did. I wanted to be a writer. Have a wife and kids one day.”
She stiffened and forced a fake smile. I’d begun to discern her real reactions vs masks. “At least you picked a career path. I wanted to be a unicorn wrangler when I was young.”
I remembered both of us, eighteen, laying with, her head on my chest while she traced the scars on my palm with her index fingers.
She’d dreamed of running away then, of getting as far from her father and cousins as physically possible. I let myself remember, for just a second, the way she used to smile at me back then. I was the key to her universe, until everything changed
.
“Since you aren’t going to tell me the whole truth on that question, tell me, how did you and Taylor meet?”
A little smile curled at the edge of her lips and I wanted to gut him for inspiring it.
“He tried to kill me, actually.” I renewed my mental death list with Taylor’s name.
“And that switched to loyalty after…?”
She shrugged. “After I tied him to a chair and forced him to watch John Hughes movies on repeat until he talked. He appreciated my style, and stuck with me ever since.”
I sipped my wine to give myself time too think. Who was I bullshitting? Not myself. I purposefully sat the glass on the table and met her eyes. “Why did you take over your family business when everyone went to jail?”
It wasn’t nearly the question I wanted answered, but we were circling.
She shifted, and I felt her poised to bolt. Not letting her get away, I reached across the table and caged her hand in mine. She danced her gaze over my knuckles toward my face, taking the scenic route.
I wanted the answer, but I also wanted to wipe the expression off her face. A scared rabbit look as she sat frozen under my hand. “Why don’t you try a question first?”
I slowly retracted my hand.
She shifted side to side in the chair as if shaking off the moment before. “What did you go to prison for?”
I could have hedged, lied, done a million things not to answer, but I wanted to see something in her eyes, anything at all. “Involuntary manslaughter and possession with intent to sell.”
The little lines on her forehead puckered together while she considered. “How long were you in?”
“Twenty years.”
She sucked in a breath but quickly cleared the surprise from her features. “That must have been difficult.”
Now it was my turn to draw the line. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
She didn’t press, instead took another drink. She chased the droplets of wine across her lips with her tongue and all the need and anger and frustration bound itself together in my chest.
The Count (Twisted Classics Book 3) Page 5