Sick Bastard (20 page)

London

I’ve been roughly, thoroughly, and satisfyingly fucked. My dress is now situated and my hair is smoothed back into place. I run my finger under my bottom lip, sweeping away my smeared red lipstick, and knowing that some of it’s still on his dick makes me want to suck him off again.

Glancing in the mirror over my shoulder, I see him watching me, paying very close attention to my finger, cleaning up the smudged lines.

“Dante?” Pulling his eyes away from my lips, he doesn’t look embarrassed for staring.

“Yes?”

“Enjoying the show?” He looks completely confused by my question. He has no clue he does it. No idea that he stares with an intensity that’d make the most composed person fidget and feel self-conscious around him.

“What show?”

“Never mind.” Walking up to him, I notice the lipstick on his neck, right by his collar. “Bend down a little.” I motion with my fingers. He takes a step towards me and leans down. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I use my other to clean away the lip print with my thumb. “There.”

One side of those lips tip into a soft smile. Grabbing my chin, he pulls my face within inches of his. “Thank you.” He whispers against my lips.

“You’re welcome,” I stutter helplessly. He turns me into a mess―a stupid fucking mess.

~~~~~~

Sitting at a bar I drink and watch Dante continue to schmooze and rub elbows with the people here. I’m thinking of how I’m so ready to get out of here and go a few more rounds with Dante when I hear, “He’s quite captivating, isn’t he?” Turning in my seat, I find a leggy blonde sitting close to me, leaning into the bar.

“Yes, he is. And you are?” I faintly recognize her, but from where, I can’t recall.

“Victoria.” She says and bats her eyelashes. Is she trying to pick me up?

“Yes, well. Nice name, I guess.” I have nothing more to say, so I start to turn back around.

“He’s quite captivated by you, I see.”

“Okay.” I agree half-heartedly.

“Don’t get used to it, though.”

“Thank you for your ill-placed concern, but I didn’t ask for any advice on dealing with Mr. Marx. If you feel I’m standing in your way, then I suggest you find something else to do. Plenty of fish and all that.”

“Honey, I’ve already been there. Just a little friendly female advice, eh?” She’s not gonna leave until she’s said her peace.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

“He’s a liar and a con man. He’ll do and say whatever he needs to just to get what he wants. He’ll ruin anyone and anything in his path, so be smart and don’t trust him, or he’ll ruin
you
. He’s not a good man, dear.”

“Alright.” It’s all I have for her. I don’t like being confronted this way by someone who obviously wants him for herself. I remember her now from his office. Yeah, she also seems the type to try and ruin anyone and anything in her path to get what she wants too.

“He’ll take from you until you have nothing left. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” She says as she tips the rest of her drink back. Before she gets up and walks away, she gives me a sad, but hateful smile. It’s not as though I hadn’t gathered some of this information about him already. There’s no way he isn’t those things to others, but why would he do it to me? What would he have to gain from trying to ruin me? Throwing back the rest of my drink, I go in search of a little quiet time, away from this fucking house.

I make my way outside and to the cold waves of the Atlantic Ocean. With shoes in hand, I feel the bite of the cold on my toes as I let the water wash over them. The alcohol haze has been fucked right out of me. I sit down and drag my toes back and forth through the water, letting my legs swing and my thoughts drift away with that haze.

Victoria’s words replay in my mind. I know I should’ve ran the moment I knew he was stalking me, but I didn’t. At this point, I’m too far gone to walk away. For all those terrible qualities he exhibits, there are also promising ones in there somewhere, buried deep, and I intend to find them. I need to find them. I’ll let him break me, but I’ll break him too. There’s no other way.

“I know you’re watching me,” I say into the darkness. I take a quick look around me, but no one’s there. I may not be able to see him, but I know he’s standing close enough to hear me. He’d never just let me go.

Turning back towards the water, I continue to kick my feet and look out at the endless ocean before me. “I know.” He answers. “What are you doing out here, London?” Enjoying the quiet solitude of the Ocean. Spending a few needed minutes alone. Watching the world go by. Relaxing.

“Fishing.”

“You won’t catch anything besides a cold from being out here with your feet in the ice cold water.” Dante being funny makes me smile, but I know he’s not trying to make me laugh.

Looking over my shoulder again, I can finally see him standing at the end of the dock, rocking on his heels anxiously. He’s dying to get his hands on me again and he’s fighting it. It’s written all over his face.

“Come back inside. You’ll freeze to death out here.” He sounds irritated now, but what’s new? “No thanks, I’m getting some fresh air.”

I hear his footsteps coming toward me then I feel him crouch down behind me, but he doesn’t touch me. He sits his glass on the dock next to me. “What are you doing, Dante?”

“I’m here to ask you to please come inside with me.” Wow, that was completely unexpected. He never
asks
, he just
does
, so how can I say no to him when he asks instead of demands?

I reach my hand out and Dante takes it, helping me up. He grabs his glass and my shoes in one hand, and places the other firmly on my back, leading me back into the house.

As we walk through a living room of sorts, little Miss Victoria appears out of nowhere. “Dante, darling. Can I have a moment of your time?” She attaches herself as close as possible to Dante’s side.

“No.” He moves away and pushes me along, dismissing her. She doesn’t even bat an eye.

“It’s important.” She pushes.

“No. I’m here with my beautiful girl, and she’s the only thing I want my thoughts on for the rest of the evening. No more business. Why don’t you go off and give father a blowjob or fuck him on his desk. At least you’d earn your paycheck for once.”

I can’t control the laugh that bubbles up and out of my mouth.

Turning those dark eyes on me, I can see the humor there, but I know he’s trying to tell me it’s enough. “London―” he begins to say more, but I stop him.

“I’ll find my own way. See what she wants and come find me so we can do what we did earlier again, and again, and again,” I say with laughter in my voice. He gives me a genuine smile before reaching into his pocket and handing me a key.

“Here, take this. The elevator is in the foyer and it’ll take you to the third floor. It’s completely private, and your things are already up there. I’ll be up in a moment.” My things? I don’t bother asking, but I do reach up and kiss him, and there’s nothing chaste about it. He kisses me with just as much hunger and I hate to even stop him, but I pull away and look over at Victoria, who’s wearing a very ugly sneer. She really shouldn’t do that. It makes her face really ugly.

I turn on my heel and start to make my way to the foyer when Dante stops me. “London?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t wander.” I wouldn’t dream of it.

~~~~~~

I find the elevator with no problem, and also the room. It’s a dream, but what catches my eye is the giant white bed that sits in the middle of the room, surrounded by floor to ceiling windows, bathed in sheer curtains.

Walking over to a closet, I pull it open and I find nothing. Pulling dresser drawers open, I still find nothing. Onto the large wood armoire I go with fingers crossed, open it and there are my things. I wonder if he broke into my place and stole this shit himself or put one of his
employees
up to it? I hope I’m not missing my underwear. Men wouldn’t think about those sorts of things.

My long sleeved black and white maxi dress hangs all alone on the metal bar with a pair of lace up gladiator sandals sitting beneath it. Folded up on a shelf is a white cami and a pair of lace PJ shorts. A small bag sits beside the PJ’s, containing all my beauty crap. This is all from Matt. Dante would’ve chosen something more sophisticated or sexy, not any of this. He would have opted out of the PJ’s, preferring me in the nude and he’d definitely forgotten the hairbrush and such. Thank God for Matt.

I’m not alone more than five minutes before Dante walks in. Standing in the doorway, he smiles at me. Quick business or is it just that impossible to stay away from me?

“That was fast.” Shrugging a shoulder he shuts the door behind him, locking it.

“I missed you.” Good God, we were apart for five fucking minutes. He’s a crazy person.

“Did you break in and get this stuff yourself, or did you break in and have Matt do it?”

“Is it gonna work for you?” He asks hopefully. I don’t miss the proud note in his voice.

“Yes.” He’s thought of everything, but then again, when doesn’t he?

“Then I got it.” He nods. Liar, liar pants on fire.

“You’re a liar.”

“Maybe.”

“Why’d you want to leave the party?”

“I’d rather be with you.” He states as he pours a drink and downs it.

“You were with me at the party.” I point out.

“No, I wasn’t. I was sharing you and I’m done with that now.”

“You don’t say,” I mutter sarcastically.

“I do say.”

Grabbing my PJ’s from the shelf, I head towards the bathroom. I’m in need of a shower. “Dante?”

“Yes, beautiful?”

“I’m starving.” I inform him as I peel my dress from my body. Letting it fall to the floor, I step out of it and my heels. A single dimple pops out when he gives me a smile.

“What do you want?” He asks, running his eyes the length of my body.

“Cheese fries with bacon on top, deep fried zucchini with ranch, and something sweet.” Laughing deeply, he just shakes his head. “Anything else?”

“Yes. I want to eat it all on that giant ass bed.”

“Watch your mouth,” he gripes at me. Yeah, yeah no cursing. I haven’t forgotten his unusual grievance. I just don’t care. “Alright, take a shower and then we can eat,
amore mio
.” Wow, that’s a new one.

~~~~~~

Standing in the shower, I let the water wash away the day. I brush my teeth and hair, smear on some lotion and tie my hair into a messy ponytail.

Coming out of the bathroom, I find plates of food scattered all over the coffee table. “Did you request everything from the kitchen?”

“Is this not right?” Dante asks from the doorway to the balcony.

“No, it’s great.” And it is. I’m fucking starving.

We settle in with my back resting against the couch and my feet in Dante’s lap. He’s rubbing my feet and it feels so good.

“Black toe nails and finger nails,” Dante muses, tapping my toes.

“The color of my heart,” I mumble around a fry. Running deft fingers up my foot to my ankle, he traces my tattoo.

“My sexy Catholic school girl with the black heart of a monster.” Yeah, something like that.

“I think I may have the skirt to my old uniform around somewhere.” Lifting my eyes from my plate, he’s staring at me with an evil smile.

“Let’s hope you do.”

“Dante?” I’m nosey and I have to ask.

“London?” he says slowly.

“Why did your father seem interested in where I’m from and my name?”

Staring past me and out the window, he shrugs, “He’s interested in travel and other cultures.”

“I’m other cultures?” Christ, he makes me sound like I’m from the Moon.

“Are you not from Italy?” He counters quickly.

“Well yeah, but I was born there. I couldn’t tell you a lot about it.”

“Then you’re another culture, per se.”

Wait a minute. He’s just as dark, if not darker, than I am. He speaks Italian fluently. He has a slight accent. He’s not just a good ol’ American boy. “And where would you be from?” Some dark cavernous cave somewhere would be my guess.

“New York,” he answers me easily enough. Right. “Not where you live. Where were you born? What’s your ethnicity?” I hit the nail on the head. I know he’s uncomfortable and he’s evading. I know because of his tells. He’s looking anywhere but me and twisting that damn watch.

“Why does it matter?” His voice deepens and his eyes narrow. I’ve poked the snake.

“It mattered to your father. You won’t answer a simple question? I do remember you saying we’re friends. Well,
friend,
I’m getting to know you too.” Barking out a laugh, he takes a deep breath he looks at me when he speaks.

“I’m from Italy just like you,
amore mio
.
Calabria,
to be precise.” And that means absolutely nothing to me. Why he thought it would matter is beyond me.