Sick Bastard (21 page)

“See, was that so hard? I’ve never been and I know nothing about it.”

“You will someday soon.”

“Nope. No plans to go there.”

“Will you behave yourself?” I don’t know why he keeps asking me that.

“No.” I never behave, unless Grandfather tells me to, and not even he bothers anymore.

Eating my fries, I have more unanswered questions in my head, ones I will see answered.

“Was your father interested in my last name because of my
culture
?”

“London―” He starts to say when there’s a loud knock on the door. It looks like your lucky night, Mr. Evasive as Fuck.

Getting off the couch, he walks to the door and pulls it open enough for only him to see out. “Boss, we’ve got a small issue.” A voice says from the other side of the door. An issue? Scooting to the end of the couch, I listen intently. I can’t help it. Why is work stuff following him here? Besides, I’m nosey as shit.

“And?”

“And we need you for a moment.” The voice answers back.

“Is this not a party?” Dante growls at the man on the other side of the door. Why does he always answer a question with a question? It’s not that difficult to just answer a simple question.

“It is and I apologize, but there’s nothing I can do.”

“You’re cutting into my time with London.”

“I’m sorry,
Signor
e.”
“Not as sorry as I am.” Dante fires back.

Without a word or a look, Dante flings the door open and storms through it, letting it slam behind him. I probably should stay in here, but he didn’t tell me to. Plus, what’s the fun in that? I’ve never done what I’m supposed to do, so why start now?

I open it and peek my head out, seeing nothing, so I sneak my way down the long hall until I hear raised voices. “What do you mean you didn’t
see
him?” Dante asks incredulously. Oh shit, he’s gone from slightly irritated to extremely pissed.

“I-I must have m-missed him.” My curiosity gets the better of me and I peek around the corner.

Dante’s back is to me. Standing next to him is Cam, Josh, and Goldfish. A man in a shabby suit stands across from the four opposing men. “You missed your mark? How is that possible? Is that not what I pay you for? To find the target each and every fucking time, Antony?” What the fuck are they talking about. Target? Like shooting? Is it a company he’s trying to take over or what?

“Please accept my apology. I’ll do better. I will finish the job,” the man grovels. His eyes are wide and weary as he stares between the men.

In a flash, Dante pins the man to the wall by his neck. The man’s face pales and his eyes bug out of his head. His fingers claw at Dante’s as he tries to suck in air. His feet are literally dangling above the wood floor.

Dante doesn’t break a sweat. He doesn’t look like he’s exuding much effort holding up this grown man. Leaning into the man, he brings his other hand up and cups the back to the man’s neck. It’s a comforting, yet extremely threatening gesture.

Dante’s face is one of deadly composure as he speaks low to the man. “You will. You fucking will. You fucked up, pulling me away from my girl. Wasting my time―time I don’t get a whole lot of with her. Would you like to explain to her why I’m out here dealing with your incompetence while she’s alone in bed without me? I
need
my time with her.”

My head spins and my heart beats a little faster. He needs time with me? “N-no,
Signore
. Please accept my sincerest apologies.”

“Would you like me to ruin your time with your wife? Maybe I should pay her a little friendly visit. She seemed like a smart woman. Maybe she could finish what you could not?” He’s threatening this man’s wife for what? What could be so bad that Dante would threaten to do such a thing. Jesus Christ. I can’t stand here and not do anything.

“Dante!” Five pairs of eyes swing in my direction and Dante has the grace to look embarrassed. Goldfish stares, Cam smirks, and Josh shakes his head.

“London, go back to bed.” He flicks a hand at me. Not happening.

“Fuck no.”

Josh’s eyes widen, looking between the two of us while Cam laughs, “Apparently, she still doesn’t know.” Know what? What am I missing here.

Dropping the man to his feet, Dante turns his attention to me. Walking straight to me, his dark eyes are narrowed and I suddenly feel like prey. Bending down slightly, he’s nose to nose with me. Bringing his hands up to touch me, I flinch like a chicken shit and back away a small step. Resting his palms flat on both sides of my neck, he rubs light circles with his thumbs. “First, London, never flinch when I touch you. Second, go to the room. I tell you to go, you go. I’ll be right in.” Never flinch? I thought he scared me before, but now he scares the living shit out of me.

“You don’t threaten people and their families, Dante. What the hell could he have done that was so wrong that you would threaten him?” I counter bravely. I’m not sure where this bravery is coming from, but suddenly I’m full of it. Maybe a little bit of that liquid courage is still floating around in there.

“It wasn’t a threat.”

“So it’s a promise? You’re really going to hurt his wife over what, a deal gone bad?” I feel the bile rise. He is. He truly plans to hurt her just to hurt this man. It’s all right there for me to see. He’s not a good man. He is so far from the man I thought he may be. He’s more than a businessman, he ruins lives. He’ll ruin my life. That’s what she said.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, he lets out a deep annoyed breath. “London, what I do is none of your goddamn business.” He’s made every goddamn thing about me
his
business, but he’s out here openly threatening someone’s innocent wife and it’s none of my business? He made me part of his business the moment he dragged me into his life.

“I’m pretty sure it became my business when you stalked me for weeks to get my attention. You brought me into your life and into your bed, so yes, it is my goddamn business, you son-of-a-bitch.” Every eye in the room widens in shock.

His face is red and his fists are clenched at his sides. “Watch what you fucking say to me.”

“Fuck you. From this moment on, you, or anything remotely associated with you, are none of my business. That also means that I’m no longer any of yours.
This
,” I wave between the two of us, “is finished. I want you gone. I want you out of my fucking life and I never want to see you again, do you understand?” He takes a step and I back up into the wall with a thud. Shit.

“Don’t you ever touch me again, Dante. I never want your filthy fucking hands on me again.”

“You might want to be careful, Dante. I mean, she is an
amico.
She is about to be connected to us, if you recall. Work mixed with sex always makes for strange bedfellows, don’t you think?” Cam says. I’m what? Is he calling me names? There’s no way in hell I would ever connect myself with his business, which obviously goes beyond just mergers & acquisitions. There’s so much more going on here but I don’t give a shit. I’m over it. Fuck him for threatening innocent people and fuck him for treating me like I’m his property.

“Excuse me?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dante shoots Cam a murderous stare.

“I want to go,” I tell him plainly. I’ve had all I can handle of him.

“London,” his voice takes on a pleading tone.

Holding my hands up, I tell him, “No, I’m done. I don’t know what you’re into, but there’s obviously more that you’re not telling me and I hate to be fucking lied to. I will never put up with any man thinking he can tell me what I will or will not do. You’ve crossed a line with me tonight that I’ve made myself blind to, but it’s done. I’m going home and you’re going to let me.” I turn and leave, sucking up my feelings and walking away.

I leave him standing in the hall looking irate. He’s mad, but he doesn’t come after me. I grab my shit and find the first ride back to the city with the first person willing to help a stranger out. I throw myself inside my apartment, lock the door and the dead bolt, and collapse into my own bed. Fuck him. I let this happen. I was so infatuated with him and the way he came for me that I deliberately blinded myself to anything else. He’s a monster, but letting him in was all my fault. I wish he’d never walked into my life.

I fall asleep to murderous thoughts and dream of hot sex in bathrooms.

Dante

Things have become a disturbing mess. Lines are becoming blurred and boundaries have been crossed. Stories are unraveling and I’ll be damned if I let them fray completely.

I just wanted to kick this obsession the only way I knew how―fuck her out of my system. Spend a little time, put in a little effort. One dinner and a fuck, then forget her. I wasn’t looking for it to snowball out of control. I wanted a momentary fix, not a fucking lifelong illness, and that’s exactly what I’ve got. She’s infected every part of me.

I told her what I do is none of her business and really it’s not. Not because she’s not worthy of the truth, but because I don’t want her to be sucked into this, and most importantly, I never wanted her to look at me like she did that night. I wanted to keep her sheltered from it all, but I was a fool. I brought her into this, knowing, but hoping, that I would have more time with the fun, innocent and amazing woman she is right now. That’s all going to change and I tried to convince myself I could hold it off, kept believing I could hide it all from her. She’s not a stupid woman by any means. Naïve maybe, but that’s truly one of those innocent things I would give my life to be able to see her keep.

This life I live will ruin her.
I
will ruin her. I will destroy her. These things I do would corrupt the toughest of people. I don’t want that for her. I’ll do what’s needed to keep her wrapped in her innocence for as long as I possibly can.

I’ll give her five days. She
ordered
me to stay away. No one orders me to do shit. It was cute really, so I honored her little threat. London was mad and I understand that, but she knows better. I gave her all the time I’m willing to give, and even that was up a few days ago. I let her work it out and calm down.

I know she meant it when she told me she didn’t want to see me, but she can’t honestly believe that those words meant shit to me. That’s just not how I work and she knows it. She could tell me to go to hell, drop fucking dead, kick rocks, and none of it would have the desired effect she’s looking for. I don’t operate that way and I know she knows that. I do whatever the fuck I want.

Sitting on the fortieth floor of my office, I watch the small specks that are other human beings living in the same world as I am, hustling and scurrying by on the sidewalk below and I wonder, what are their lives like? Their lives can’t be anything like mine. They don’t ruin lives, families, and companies on a daily basis. They can’t have responsibilities and burdens as I do. They don’t constantly have to watch their backs, wondering when that bullet will end it all for them. These people on the sidewalk don’t deal in the unsavory and scum of the earth. Those
average
humans down there don’t run a goddamn empire from this very seat.

I don’t blame my mother for finding other outlets to numb the pain this life brings someone on the inside. I don’t hold a grudge that she let it destroy her. I see why my cousin Cam is a hardened asshole and the reasons my sister runs off to other countries to avoid being a part of this. I’ve lost more family than I care to remember, and more friends than I can count.

I’ve lived hard, fast, and lavishly. I’ve seen bad shit done, and I’ve done bad shit. I have no regrets. I’d do it all again. There’s not a goddamn thing on this planet that would make me give any of this up. Nothing can take this away from me.

“
Signore
?” Vinn says before entering my office. Twisting in my seat, I look at him and he looks bored. He shouldn’t be bored. I pay him to look anything but.

“Yes?”

“She’s left her place.”

“You and Antony change career paths?” Snapping confused eyes up to mine, he has the balls to look worried. He should be worried, but not for himself. He should be worried for Antony, for shoving his duties onto others. Antony knows how this organization works.

“No,
Signore.
I just know your priorities lie in keeping eyes on Miss DeLacourt.” True.

“Yes, thank you. When you see Antony, please send him my way.” Opening his mouth to protest, I shut that shit down. I’m not unreasonable. I don’t fly off of the handle unnecessarily, and I’m definitely not unrealistic. In fact, I would consider myself a very reasonable and kind boss. Considering Antony’s lost London’s whereabouts twice, missed his mark, and didn’t show up this morning, he’s lucky he’s gotten this many chances thus far.

“
Signore
?”

“Send him my way unless you’d like to have this talk for him. If not, then leave and close the door behind you.” And he does.

~~~~~~

My car idles at the curb while I wait. Someone might say I’m sitting here working up the nerve to go up, and I wish I could say that was the case. I don’t recall if I’ve ever felt the flutter of nervousness. My stomach is never in knots over a decision. I never have to work up the nerve to do something. I’m just biding my time, waiting.

I rub the sore muscle of my right arm. Christ, I need to invest in a hammer, a crowbar, anything that isn’t my hand. Glancing down, I see the start of a very colorful bruise. Perfect.

I pull my attention away from my hand to outside of the cars window, getting the nod that everything’s clear as my man disappears around the buildings corner a few moments later.

Sliding out of my car, I straighten out my watch and pull the sleeve of my jacket back down. This new clean shirt is wrinkled and hangs haphazardly off of me, but after I made a mess of my other shirt, I had no choice but to use it. Smoothing back the hair I know I’ve destroyed with my hands, I right my tie as I walk toward the front door. Walking through the front door, no one bats an eye in my direction. Lovely security.

I know London’s not in here the second I push the door open. It’s eerily quiet. The lack of life really settles in the pit of my gut with London not being here. The silence is deafening and the stillness is unsettling. London has life pouring out of her. She’s not here and I can feel it.

Walking through the living room, I look over shelves, rummage through drawers and cabinets. What am I looking for? Anything. She has to have secrets. I want to find something that will make her the bad person for once.

Pulling open more drawers, I examine their contents, finding nothing but stuff. Closets are skeleton free. Nothing out of the ordinary lurks in the dark nooks and crannies. Nothing alarming stands out. There never is anything in the kitchens and living rooms. Most people are smarter than that.

Is it wrong to dig through her belongings? Sick to look under couches and in closets? Is it immoral of me to look through her mail and paperwork? Disgusting not to ask her permission to enter her home? Yes. Do I care? Absolutely not.

But ever since laying eyes on London, that very tiny part of me that feels remorse and regret worms it’s way into my veins and eats away at me. For the most part, I push it away and ignore its sting, but when she’s looking at me, it’s nearly impossible to ignore all the bad I am. For that I do feel sorry, but not sorry enough to stop doing it.

It would be nice to not have this compulsion to feed into. Fuck, I wish I didn’t have this never-ending appetite of unrealistic demands. What would it be like to just
live
. I wonder what I could accomplish if I wasn’t always thinking twelve steps ahead every moment of every day. Damn, the free time would be immeasurable. I might even be able to take up a useful hobby.

The hardest part is the trust. Learning when and who to trust is always a calculated risk in my life. I don’t give it often and it’s never without a price. I made an exception for London. What would it be like to trust and be trusted? I surmise that it might be nice, to just be us, London and Dante. If only that were a possibility. If I could only trust her completely like she deserves, things may very well work out, but I can’t. I can’t trust her because she can’t trust me. I’m the liar and the keeper of secrets, therefore I always feel that if I can do it, everyone can. It’s a way to cope with my deceit―by convincing myself she has secrets too.

I spent a small amount of time in her room prior to now. I did my normal intake of as much shit as I could without being completely obvious. Her bed, dresser, closet, and bathroom are all normal. All plain to the ordinary person, but I’m just not that person.

In her closet, at the bottom left corner, I noticed a strange cluster of shoes. Normal for any other woman, but not normal for London, not when her shoes cost, at the very least, five hundred a pair. Not when she neatly lines them along the bottom of her closet in perfect rows, and not when she treats them like precious family members.

Pushing the pile of shoes aside, I notice not a single pair is designer. Not a single pair is worn. Not a single pair is a style I know she’d let grace her feet. Decoy shoes. Nice try, beautiful.

Crouching down in the corner of her closet, I peel away the hidden panel. Normally I’d leave this for someone else to deal with. I have no fucking time for this sort of shit, but this is a special case. There’s no way in hell I’m letting one of my men in here to run amuck. Never happening. She’s my girl after all.

The panel pops open easily enough. Carefully sliding it over, I see nothing at first, but that would be too easy. Reaching a hand inside, I move over insulation and find a big metal safe.

Cracking the code within a few measly moments, I wonder why London used her damn birthdate. I know she’s smarter than that, but when I start digging through the safe, I see why. Birth certificate, fake passport, apartment title, old pictures, and a wad of cash. At least over fifty thousand. Wrapping the rubber band around it, I stuff if back in the safe and stick the safe back where I found it. The cute little fucking monster is rat-holing cash and I couldn’t be prouder. She doesn’t even trust the banks with large amounts of cash. Lord, she’s more like me than I’d like to admit.

The front door latches closed, catching me off guard, and I know I’m about to get my ass in trouble.

~~~~~~

Leaning against the wall outside her room, I listen to her move around. The rustle of bags, the scrape of hangers, and the thud of drawers being closed tells me she went shopping. I wonder if she bought anything sexy? More shoes? But all I can focus on are the sounds as she moves while I stand quietly like a goddamn freak. I don’t give a fuck. I do dumb shit but to me, it’s more like doing dumb shit with a purpose. It all makes some sort of sense to me, so fuck it, I go with it.

Next I hear a door open and close, then the grind of metal rings on a metal rod. She’s in the shower.

I know it’s wrong. I know it’s unfair, and I know it’s weird. Hell, I could go as far as to say it’s revolting, but those things don’t register. I should seek help for lack of a moral compass, but I don’t have time for that right now.

I look inside at my beautiful girl. It’s painful to watch her touch all the places my hands should be. I’ve seen my fair share of naked woman. I’ve seen them do all kinds of things from licking each other from one end to the other, shower together, and I’ve even watched while they were being fucked, but this is something completely different.

Watching her perform such a dull task such as showering has turned into something else entirely for me. It’s my own fucking brand of live porn. She’s beautiful, and nothing like I’ve ever seen before.

Lurking in the corner of her bathroom, I’m well aware of how fucking wrong it is. The total lack of remorse is what’s alarming.

I miss the noise of metal on metal and hear a breathy scream fill my ears. I’ve been caught.

“W-
what
… What the fuck are you doing in here?” Simply put, I’m here because I miss her.