Sick Bastard (13 page)

Dante

I‘m pissed because of that douchebag Perry. Seeing London so upset, I made her dance with me. I personally don’t like to dance, but tonight with London, it’s definitely had its perks, but any other time I hate it. I saw the look in her eyes and I knew she was scared. When I touch her, she tends to get lost, so there was my answer. Distract her enough to calm her down was my plan, and it’s working. I’m a resourceful man..

Perry.
That motherfucker is a problem. I should’ve known he’d come looking. He’s only a friend of the family―a goddamn soldier, and watching him throw around what little weight he holds is laughable. For someone like me, he’s an annoyance. For someone like London, he’s a much different story. He’s an unstable and power hungry little pest, and she’s his ticket to get him where he wants to be in the ranks. If her father wants her bad enough, he’ll do whatever it takes to get her for him. Sad for him, though. He’ll get her over my dead body, and that will never happen.

“I need to find Matt,” she mumbles into my chest, pulling my attention back to her. Ah yes, the other man in her life. At least my blood pressure isn’t shooting through the roof this time around. I’m practicing great restraint tonight by not killing anyone. I hope she can appreciate that.

“Okay.” I let her go. She seems bereft when I move away. What the fuck now? She looks at me expectantly, “Yes?”

“You’re not coming with me?” She asks, like me not following her is crazy. One minute she’s cursing at me, calling me a stalker, and the next she’s smiling at me and wanting me around. I’m lost.

“Do you want me to? You’re okay with the stalking bit now?”

She just rolls her eyes, “Yeah. I guess I am.” Okay then. Waving a hand out I follow like a good little boy.

“Oh my God, London. Perry’s here. We’ve gotta go now!” Matt looks pale with his eyes wide. “Should we leave the city? Move again?” He suggests.

“No one needs to move.” I tell them both. I’d hate to have to move just to stalk her somewhere else.

I watch Cam walk up to the table, looking between London and I. He’s making lewd eye gestures at her that might get his eyes removed from their sockets. Once he’s close, he makes a b-line for London.

“And who is this beautiful thing? I saw you earlier and haven’t had the opportunity to dance with you, since you’ve had so many admirers’. ” He puts out his hand to her and she accepts it. Cam starts to lay it on thick by kissing her hand and lingering longer than necessary. Yeah, that’s enough.

“London, this is my cousin, Carmine.” He bows like some royal asshole.

“It’s nice to meet you, Carmine.”

Smiling he winks at her. “Call me Cam.”

“Cam?” Jesus Christ, I wish he’d go the fuck away. I’m not in the mood for his overly exaggerated pretentious antics. Doesn’t he have shit he could be doing?

“Short for Carmine Cameron Marc-ugh, Marx,” I gut check him before he fucks everything up.

“Enough. Come here, Cam.” That was too fucking close.

Grabbing his shoulder, I pull his annoying ass away from her. “Is there a reason you’re over here?” He just laughs and nods stupidly.

“It can wait.” He laughs.

“The fuck it can. Let’s go over there.” I point a few feet away from earshot. Looking back at London, I tell her, “I’ll be right back.”

“What do you want, Cam?” With his hands shoved into his pockets, he shifts around with a gleam in his eye.

“So she doesn’t know, does she?” I wish it was okay to just punch him right here, right now, in front of everyone.

“No, and she won’t find out so keep your fucking mouth shut. Now get on with it.” Fucking prick, he’s enjoying this.

“Got word that you need to make an appearance.”

“Is that so? When?”

“Tonight. Late.”

“Fine. Did you see that fucker messing with London earlier? Look into it.” He nods his understanding. I spend ten minutes getting details and giving instructions. A phone call pulls me away for another ten before I find myself back at the table.

I find London alone and lip deep in a shot, and four empties sitting in a semicircle around her. “Did I miss the party, beautiful?” Throwing back the shot, she shakes her head no and hiccups. “Where’d your friend go?” Shrugging, she points over her shoulder.

“Found some man candy and they’re headed to man candy’s room, I think.”

“Want to know what I think? I think you’ve had enough,
cara
.”

“Yeah, I think you might be right.” She grumbles. Pushing off the seat, she sways a little once on her feet. I make a grab for her to steady her and she jerks away from me.

“I got it,” she assures me. Holding up my hands, I back away a step.

“Okay.” I watch her throw that last shot back and slam the glass down on the table. She’s gonna hate herself in the morning.

“How are you getting home?” I ask her.

“Cab. I gave Al the rest of the night off,” she shrugs. That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. Her drunk in a cab for a few hours spells disaster. Nothing good could come of that. “Have you seen my purse?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Fuck. Must have left it in the town car.”

“Come on,” Grabbing her arm, I walk her towards the door. She’s got me bending. Any other woman I’d send in a cab and not think twice about it, but not London.

“Where ya takin’ me, bossy pants?” She slurs.

“Home, Now shut up.”

~~~~~~

“A limo, huh?” She smiles wickedly. “Are you overcompensating for something,
Mr. Marx
?” I know what that look means and she’s playing with fire.

“London?”

“Is someone trying to make up for something with this
long
limo?”

It took me thirty minutes to get her out of there and onto the sidewalk. We’re not getting distracted now, no matter how bad I want to fuck her inside this lime and show her I have nothing to compensate for. “Get in the fucking car, London.”

The dirtiest of looks flashes across her face before she turns away and trudges to the door. “This dress is a fucking pain.” She slurs and starts tugging on it while trying to get in. She lifts it up obscenely high to crawl into the back seat. I think I catch a glimpse of ass, but I know I get a perfect view of those long, tan legs. Damn. “As soon as I'm home, it's coming off.” Yes, and I’d love to be the one to take it off, I think idly.

“You,” I point at her and then to the far end of the car, “sit over there.” There’s absolutely no way I can sit by her and possibly keep my hands to myself, not while she’s lifting that dress up and shifting around. She sits on her side like a good girl. I’m not in the business of fucking drunk women.

Driving for a while, neither of us say anything and I’m good with that. I answer a ridiculous amount of e-mails and send off a few documents. Little by little, she’s gotten closer to me, but she’s not looking at me or speaking to me, so I leave her be.

I’m engrossed in a rather obnoxious e-mail from Rocco about unimportant details when I feel her lean against my side. Looking down at her, she’s staring up at me, “You sit over there.” I point back over by the door on her side. She blinks and starts chewing on that fucking lip.

“I’m cold, and it’s lonely over there.” She whispers. Why can’t I just move her? I just can’t tell her no.

“Fine.” I concede. No use in fighting her because Lord knows, she’ll win.

Sleeping beauty falls asleep and I try to keep my attention on my phone. She’s resting against me, curled into my side, using my shoulder as a pillow while one of her hands rests on my fucking thigh. I even took off my two thousand dollar suit jacket and draped it over her legs to keep her warm and comfortable. Sitting here next to her, I turn my phone off and stare at her for the rest of the ride.

~~~~~~

“Sir, we're here.” Branson alerts me from the front.

“Thank you. It'll be a minute,” I tell him. I actually feel a little bad about waking her up. She looks comfortable and content, but she can’t sleep in the limo all night.

“London?” I speak quietly, trying my hardest to wake her up in the nicest way possible. “London?” I try a little louder. The car is so damn quiet I feel like I'm shouting. Cracking an eye open, she stares at me through her long lashes. “You're home. Do you have your key?” She ignores me and lets her eye drift closed.

“Time to get up,” I try again, giving her a gentle shake. “Do you have a key?”

With one quick shake of her head she grumbles, “Nope.” Shit.

“Do you have your phone to call your friend?”

“Nope. Matt,” she mumbles.

“I’m not Matt,” I remind her.

“I know that,” she states dryly, “Matt has a key and mine is in my purse, hopefully in the town car.” I didn’t even think of that.

What the hell am I supposed to do with her? I know what I want to do and it’s shit I know I shouldn’t. I’m trying to be a gentleman right now. “How the hell am I supposed to get you inside?” She closes her eyes and says nothing else.

Am I just supposed to babysit her? I can’t very well just leave her on the sidewalk. The doorman is gone for the night and the manager won't get a key to us until morning if we're lucky.

I have no choice.

“Take us home, Branson.”

~~~~~~

Getting her out of the car is a feat. She’s drunk and sleepy, and if she wasn’t such a pain in the ass, this might actually be funny. “We're here.” Standing outside of the door, I hold my hand out to her, but of course she bats it away.

“I got it.” Drunk, sleepy London isn’t very friendly.

She stumbles as soon as she’s out of the car and her feet land in a mud puddle. “Come on, you fucking pain.” I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder, removing her shoes as I go. I’m done fucking around on the sidewalk while she prances around in mud.

Standing in my hall, I debate on what to do with her. I’ve never brought a woman here. I have no clue what I should do with her.

I have one bed. Four rooms, but none are for guests because I don’t ever have guests in my house. If I put her on the couch, I don’t want her falling off in the middle of the night and breaking her goddamn neck. I could put her on the floor, but I’m just not that mean. Fuck, my room it is.

Laying her down on my bed, my hands start shaking. This whole thing is fucking with my head. My nasty little obsession is here, sprawled out on my bed. It screws with self-control. She’s every sick fantasy I’ve had playing out before me. She’s everything I shouldn’t want, but do with a desperation that borders on unhealthy. Her hair looks a mess, her eye makeup is smeared, and her dress is ruined, and still, she couldn’t be any fucking sexier. I hate how much I love it.

Swallowing hard, I do something I shouldn’t. Crawling up on the bed next to her, I look for a zipper. I’ve done this dance plenty of times, but never has it felt so right, yet so wrong. I suck back the fucked up emotions and try to get her comfortable. Leaning into her, I run my hands up and down her perfectly curved body, but she doesn’t move. That light citrus scent makes me hard and twitchy. Running my hands down her sides, I find the zipper. Unzipping it, I slip the dress off and find out what a bad idea this was. Bad, bad fucking idea.

She’s wearing a sexy lace bra and matching panties. The bra only covers the bottom portion of her tits, which pushes the rest up high. Fuck, this is so wrong. I have a serious obsession with those fucking tits of hers. She’s out of her mind and out of her clothes and oh, the things I could do. The tie on my dresser catches my attention and I have to adjust my dick just thinking of what I wanna do with it. But I don’t do a goddamn thing. I’m gonna have to take care of myself, but I’d much rather have her hand, or her mouth, wrapped around my dick.

I get the sheets and comforter out from under her and cover her up. Rearranging the pillows, I get her comfortable. There, she’s as comfortable as she’s gonna get and I need to leave and to deal with my other head.

~~~~~~

Leaning back onto the chaise lounge chair in the corner, I get comfortable. I never understood why my interior designer put this pointless piece of furniture in here, but now I get it. Sitting in my secluded corner of the room, I watch her sleep and I start to think about this family situation of hers.

Everyone is playing her, including me, of course. I want what she has, or will have. She has no idea what she stands to gain. She also has no clue as to what her grandfather is getting her into. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing for me, but I do know I have competition to eliminate. Whatever the case may be, I’ll look into it and remedy the issue accordingly. At this point, who knows what her father and Perry have up their sleeves. There may be more players to the game now, helping them.

Sipping my bourbon, I watch her. Forty minutes I’ve sat here in relaxed silence. Why did she have to be her. Why have I let myself go this far with her. How am I going to handle it when she finds out the truth and the lies, because they will come out. I don’t want to hurt her, but I’m set on what I have to do for my family and it’s future.

She’s perfect. Everything about her is beautiful. She’s sexy, exciting, and most of all, she makes me
feel
. She’s changed something in me and I’m head over heels for her.